Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Hey, We're in Delaware

The leisure time activity of travel can allow you to see some of the greatest sight’s this planet has to offer. In the last 5 years, I have been privileged enough to view the Paris skyline, many an ancient German castle, the mountain peaks of a New England winter, the cavernous ravines of New Mexico, the sunsets of St. Lucia, and the upper deck of RFK Stadium – ok, scratch that last one.) These are the high points of my travels of late. And it’s a good thing, too. Because this weekend I had to visit the low point of humanity once more, and all the good memories in the world are needed to vanquish this one.

Yes, the I-95 Rest Stop.

If I had to choose one in particular to crown the Low Point of Humanity, it would be the Delaware House. Even though one stays on this section through The First State a mere 23 miles, it seems that everybody feels the need to make sure their dinner plans go sales tax-free. Now this is not an honor one can simply skate into, and the Delaware House has managed to make me want to cry upon its mere mention. This blog is designed to be educational. Therefore, we’ll explain why Interstate rest stops might as well be the Gateways to Hell.

Cleanliness – I’m not saying that rest stops such as Chesapeake, Maryland, Delaware and the rest are the filthiest places I’ve ever been. (see RFK Stadium visit, above). But there’s just something about rest stops that make you want to wear protective ER scrubs upon entering. The sheer foot traffic completely blows the janitorial staffing levels out of orbit. It’s your standard “Hole in the Rowboat” scenario. No matter how many times you try and shovel water out of the boat, it’ll keep sinking. Especially considering this boat is open 24 hours, and the one thing it could use is a good hundred gallons of water.

Dining – Yes, each rest stop seems to manage to nail down a fast food staple, a la McDonald’s, Burger King, or Wendy’s. And Starbucks has entered the fray. However, after that, who knows what franchise will find its way onto your off-ramp menu. The basic requirements is thus: pick franchises that are rather rare but maintain an above-average level of appeal to hungry travelers. That way, your sheer novelty and their sheer hunger will totally warrant prices than are 140% higher than what they would be had Mr. Mini-Van picked a random exit and scavenged for drive-thru restaurants. Between here and home, I could dine via rest stop at the following: Bob’s Big Boy, Cinnabon, Roy Rogers, Sbarro, TCBY, Popeye’s, Nathan’s Hot Dog, Hot Dog City, Hot Dog Construction Company, and PretzelMania.

I don’t know which is weirder: the abundance of hot dog stands or a place called PretzelMania.

Rest Stop Staples – No matter the stop, count on the following truths to be upheld. The bathrooms will be cavernous and spacious, but paper towels are nowhere to be found. You can memorialize your trip by ruining a penny
by investing two quarters. The best gifts a gift shop will ever have is a t-shirt that does nothing more than identify the state in which you have stopped. (Who needs sports teams when you’ve got state pride?) The most interesting thing in the joint will be the giant map of the interstate that is oddly riveting, and only helps to depress you as to how much farther you have to go. Babies will cry, as if the rest stop sends off a signal that scares children that minute they enter. Parking will be convenient, if by convenient we mean nowhere near the entrance and stuck between two over-stuffed RVs.

If you can, avoid at all costs.

That is, unless you’re a PretzelManiac.

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