Often it is the case that during a campout someone will organize an "excursion" for one purpose or another, e.g., to visit a nearby factory or simply to eat at a restaurant somewhere. Usually BBBH and I take the position that we have paid good money to enjoy the park and the outdoor experience, and thus decline the invitation to join the crowd.
On Wednesday, though, a knock on the door before we had finished our first cup of coffee brought with it an invitation to go shopping and have lunch in Toto. "How far, when are you leaving, when will we be back? and we will let you know."
It was 8:30, the temperature already at 82o and the dew point pushing 80o. Did I say it was quite warm and extremely muggy? We decided a few hours in an airconditioned environment might be a good thing. We got ready to go.
Toto, we were told, was a half-hour distant, though it turned out to be closer to an hour. We rode with Doyle and Rose and were the second car in the caravan. The lead driver was clearly following his GPS, for no one who was sane and owned a map would have taken the route he chose. Anyway, we were barreling down a back country road when the dew point was reached with a vengeance. The downpour was intense, and we continued to drive through rain all the way to our destination. We got a parking spot right in front of the restaurant marquee, but in the ten-foot trip from car to porch, I got soaked, especially my back, and my feet which passed through the torrent in the gutter.
Are we having fun yet?
Our waitress was a jewel and the company around the table was pleasant. I ordered the spaghetti, though, which was the day's special. It is always a mistake for me to order spaghetti, because BBBH takes it as a personal affront, reminding me that she makes a much better pasta dish than I can get in a cafe. And she is right. And in this case, she was really right.
During lunch, the rain stopped. We walked from the restaurant to the store, huge barn, next door. There I sat at the entryway reading while the gang shopped. Then we learned that we hadn't really had the "Toto experience" until we had been to Bailey's. So it was back in the cars, and down the road. Bailey's, I would say, really is not "in" Toto, for it was a six or so mile drive to get to this vast warehouse structure in the middle of a cornfield. And it was pouring rain again by the time we arrived.
A bit about my experience at Bailey's can be found here should you be interested.