As I mentioned, roadtripping was pretty non-blogworthy until we hit our favorite pit stop, South of the Border. South of the Border is the trashiest conglomeration of shops, restaurants and fiberglass animalia on the I-95 thoroughfare. Most tall tales involve the runs after a particularly bad taco.
Tacky billboards line I-95 for at least 100 miles north and south touting their mascot, Pedro, and as you draw near you spy the gigantic sombrero which you too can visit for a dollar. For this bargain basement price, you get a ride on the world's scariest elevator to the top of the world's scariest highrise structure. We forked over four bucks for literary purposes and my first thought as you might expect was, "Is that the flattened carcass of a pigeon in the elevator shaft?"
We stood on the giant sombrero rim admiring the parking lot, BoyChild picked up a few graffiti pointers, the structure swayed a bit and then we figured we could check that off the list of "thing to do before we die" before we really did die.
SOTB retail targets a class of customer just slightly lower than that of your average dollar store. BoyChild's favorite item:
And my favorite display rack: You can see that the Good Word ranks second, only to NASCAR.
After the kids chose their two allotted pieces of crap, *ahem* toys, we let them dork around on the assorted fiberglass animals and timed our departure almost perfectly for the I-95 accident back-up that had us parked with at least 10? miles of our road trippin' friends. To be continued...