Sunday, June 10, 2007

The Throwed Roll Detour

And now, for the final leg of our journey into the shallow south...

Preparing to leave the Queen of Diamonds, HH started a fight with #1 son to keep intact his record of making one of us cry at the beginning of every trip and on every holiday. I was in the bathroom at the time, cleaning off some diamond dirt and changing clothes before hitting the road. It had something to do with the command for #1 to load #2's diamond shoes in the LSUV. #1 asked why, since #2 was not doing anything other than laying on the bed watching TV. HH was astounded that someone should question his command, and set his jaw and said, "Because I said so." Which might have worked on a more timid child, but not on our #1, who was known to take off alone through the dark woods with a flashlight at 4 years old to look for his dad.

After much shouting and two of us crying and HH harping at me not to come to him when #1 murders somebody, we traced our tracks back the way we had come. To Little Rock, anyway. We were headed for the other side of Missouri, so our route changed. With a trusty 3-year-old road atlas, I fed HH directions at the major interchanges. HH was still not speaking to us. He had pulled over at a rest stop about 45 minutes after we left, but nobody needed it but him, and we did not want to make a sandwich for lunch as we had done for the whole trip. #1 asked for McDonalds. He got no response, other than the LSUV peeling out onto the highway again.

We drove and drove. Numerous McDonalds and one hour passed. By now, it was 1:00. #1 said, "Can we have some lunch? I am getting hungry." HH snapped, "Well, I'm taking you to McDonald's!" So #1 cried, "You've already passed 10 of them, so I didn't think you were going to stop." That was fuel on the fire. HH yanked the wheel at the next exit, and we found ourselves you say...not the nicest section of Little Rock. It reminded me of where HH used to work in St. Louis, near Tower Grove and Chouteau. HH and the boys went in, and I stayed in the LSUV. They were gone about 20 minutes. So I started thinking that HH would never stop again, and there were no more rest areas on the atlas. When the boys came out with their bags of food, I asked #1 which way to the bathroom. I might as well go before we hit the road again. He said, "Well, the bathroom is only for paying customers. They had to hit a button to buzz us in." That was all I needed to hear. I would just hold it until we got to Missouri.

We continued on through Little Rock, and came out of it on US 67. That went on and on and then stopped and zigged and zagged and took us on to another greeting area for Arkansas rest stop just before we hit Missouri. I did not go in there, though it looked a bit nicer than the other welcome/rest stop. I will say, Missouri did not have the band or balloons or cake with buttercream icing to welcome us home, either. In fact, we did not even have a 'Welcome to Missouri' sign. Though we did have a sign that said something about 'maintenance for the next XX miles...' which is generally a sign seen in Missouri. But then there were still a couple of Arkansasish road signs, so I don't know...maybe we are still waging a battle for the border.

Shortly before this point, I had asked HH if he was sure he'd taken the right turn. He snapped that he was perfectly capable of reading his own road signs, and that I was looking at the business route, and that he was just fine without my mouth telling him what to do, and he hadn't needed me telling him those routes all along. So I hmpfed and closed my eyes to leave the driving to him.

We had been seeing signs that said X miles to Fredericktown, which was still very far away, but I'd judged the time we would arrive home at about 6:30 p.m., which was good, because our animals would need their evening feeding. When I opened my eyes again, I saw a sign that said X miles to Sikeston. I said, "Oh. The Throwed Roll restaurant is in Sikeston. I've never been there. Maybe we can stop in there for supper." And HH snottily said, "I'd like to know how you're going to do that on the way, because Sikeston is way over by Cape." Well, Mr. Smarty-pants HH, the sign says we're heading that way. So I said back to him, "This road says we're headed there. Where are the signs saying how far it is to Fredericktown?" HH said, "I don't know. I haven't seen them for a long time. I guess that new stretch of 67 they put in goes through Sikeston." To which I replied, "Why would it do that? That's about 50-60 miles out of the way." HH sputtered that I didn't know what I was talking about. And then I saw it. The road sign said '60 E' instead of '67 N'. The man who was perfectly capable of reading his own road signs had taken a wrong turn while I was asleep, and had driven 35 miles out of his way without knowing it. I said, "Didn't you notice that the signs say 60 East instead of 67 North?" And HH replied, "No. I'm not paying attention to that."

EEEEEEEEEE! So now, we were too far that way to turn back, so we had to continue to Sikeston and come up Hwy 55, which could still get us home, but it's kind of like Diva going up to Lebanon, MO, to get to Branson. Good thing the Earth is round, or HH might have driven us right over the edge, what with not paying attention and all. The only good thing was that we did indeed stop for supper at Lambert's, the Throwed Roll Restaurant.

Here's a link. I suggest you take the tour. I had the fried chicken livers with no gravy, plus the green beans and mashed potatoes, and some black-eyed peas that a guy was carrying around in a bucket. Only the waitress brought me some in a bowl, because we didn't have room on our plates. HH had the giant chicken-fried steak, with green beans and something and fried okra. The kids ate off the kids' menu, #2 choosing the grilled cheese and fries, with #1 having chicken strips and fried apples. The food was excellent. But the best part was those throwed rolls that we had while waiting for our food. They were freakin' HUGE. The kids ate about 3 apiece, and I managed one-and-a-half. The kids used butter, but I used the honey bear that was sitting on the table. Oh, and there was a girl walking around with a bucket of sorghum, too, but I didn't want it, and HH said he had enough of that while growing up.

Our waitress was a sweet little black lady who gave just the right amount of service without intruding every 5 minutes. It was like, if you needed something, she was there, but otherwise we were left alone. And yes, she got a good tip, unlike that pitiot at the Dixie Stampede.

Sooo...we finally got home around 9:00 p.m. After our little detour. We had a 1-day buffer of nobody speaking to each other, and then we decided to use a free night at the casino. Which is tomorrow's story.


Mean Teacher said...

Holy hell, you ARE a hillbilly! I didn't even know I was harboring some doubt about it until I read that you ordered fried chicken livers. That's a serious redneck dinner choice!

I haven't been to Lambert's in years, but remember having fun when we were there.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Ya got THAT right. I loooooves me some fried chicken livers. Shh...they even put a gizzard in there by mistake. It was great.

Redneck. Diva. said...

While not a fan of gizzards, I lurves me some chicken livers. They're even better with a nice chianti (*slurpslurpslurp*).

Rolls are so much better when they're throwed.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Ooh! You must have watched Silence of the Lambs yesterday, too.

Wouldn't that be a great job...throwing rolls?

Stewed Hamm said...

If you have a job as a roll thrower, you're required to go on Jeopardy, just to make Alex say - on national TV - that you're a roll thrower.

It's true. I saw it in the Constitution.

Hillbilly Mom said...

That must be one of the new amendments that I have not yet memorized.

I wish that the first guy set adrift on the Pirate Master show would go on Jeopardy. Just so Alex could say, "A scientist/exotic dancer from..."