Pre-Vacation Jonesing.

I am going on vacation in less than 48 hours, meaning that sometime during the wee hours (OK probably around 6 a.m.) on Saturday, we will load the car, pile the sleeping children into the car, and head east on Route 50 for the glory that is Ocean City, Maryland. Sometime around 9 a.m., we will cross the Route 90 bridge and see the strip of high rises to the north and the low slung buildings, each year dotted more and more with higher buildings, to the south. Our son, if he's awake, will begin to talk about all the miniature golf courses he wants to play. Our daughter, if she's awake, will probably be crying because she's been in the car so long. We'll eat some breakfast, maybe at the Sahara or the Satellite, then it'll be beach time...

But I still have two days to work before that happens. It's difficult to get motivated when you're anticipating some time off, but it's also the time when you need to concentrate the most, since you'll be leaving your work for an extended period and don't want to look bad for not completing projects. Can't concentrate. Must concentrate.

Anyway, I will be revelling all week in the cultural morass that is Ocean City, land where the mullet never died (other than Canada of course). I will see immensely large people load up on the large size Thrasher Fries. I will see angsty (or maybe just horny) high school kids and college freshmen sitting on the boardwalk strumming their acoustics in the damp nighttime breeze. I will see many moronic traffic maneuvers completed by individuals who should have their licenses revoked for being too stupid to drive. I will lament once again that Days Inn swallowed up the French Quarter motel, a true dive, and turned the once sparsely populated and inexpensive bar into some travesty called, of all things, "The Dungeon," which while it seems would be a fetish S and M bar, or at least a Goth bar, actually subtitles itself a sports bar.

Would you go into a sports bar named "The Dungeon"? No, I wouldn't either. I'd wonder what sort of sports they were talking about and be half afraid it was something like "Medieval Times," where you'd have some jousting tournament in the middle of trying to get your drink on.

Jesus, the sooner I get a box of claws in me the better.