This past weekend I went on my annual trip to Kentucky to play golf. It’s a good time. A good chance to chill with the old man. You know you only have so many opportunities to do that in you lifetime; so I try to take advantage of the times when I can. Usually this blog is a comical one, being about my experiences in the south. This will be no different. It almost was though. For the first two days I didn’t think I would have any material, but good old Kentucky wouldn’t let me down. And so begins our tale….
Day two of the trip we are heading back from the golf course and we decide to have the bright idea to try to shave 10-15 miles off the intended route. Wow, what a poor idea. We must have taken the most backward route to get back to the lodge. We were going up and down so many hills and narrow corners. These roads were ridiculously small too. Small for one car and these were supposed to be two lane roads. I found myself just praying for no other cars to be on the road. These roads didn’t even have names either. I’m pretty sure the United States is unaware the area is even inhabited by human beings. I can’t blame them too much though, it’s hard to tell when your looking at it. Oh yeah! Get this. We are driving on good ole boy road or whatever it wants to be called and we hear this shot and we turn to our immediate left and we are greeted by a rather large shirtless gentleman pointing a firearm at the ground. That made me feel so terribly safe. I think every restaurant, store, golf course, what have you, we went into I saw a no shirt, no shoes, no service sign. You know my feelings on signs, if it’s there it was put there for a reason. Yeah, Kentucky is a special place. If someone asks you to go and they are speaking of anywhere but Louisville (lulllvlllll if your from Kentucky) say no then promptly run away.
Also, this is my 50th blog! Hooray!