I went down to Auburn, Alabama with my cousin last Saturday to see the Tennessee Vols and the Auburn Tigers clash. More thoughts on the game later, if I get around to writing them.

After driving through northeastern Alabama for an hour or so, well, first let me say, wow. I’ve never been in a more depressing, isolated place. Some of the areas we drove through made Irving College (itty bitty community in my home county of Warren) look like The Big City. We consistently only picked up about 8 FM radio stations, and one of those was from across the border in Georgia. There was nothing, and I mean nothing. So, after driving through this abyss for about an hour or so, my cousin decided we needed a pit stop. I pulled into the first service station we came across. There was a Weigel’s across the street, but I went with my gut and chose this one, and I’m glad I did.

This service station was like something out of a movie that was written for the sole purpose of making fun of Alabama. The bathrooms were out of order, you could barely find a section of drinks that were non-alcoholic, (Seriously… it was tucked away in the back of the store. Plenty of liquor and cheap wine, though), and the, er, contraceptive supply that for some strange reason was right next to the chapstick (the need of which is one of the reasons we stopped) was quite extensive. Although, I must admit I’m not sure if this is the typical location for stock such as that or not, so that could be normal. And, I should also say that I’m glad they had such a large selection; as you will see, inbreeding can have some devastating consequences. But I digress. The point is, this place was scary. I was sporting a bright orange UT shirt, so I was skeered and fearin’ for my life.

All of the above is just a teaser though. Because the clientele, oh, the clientele. Now, though Alabamans are people, too, (and I’m sure there are some good ones mixed in), I have to say that there were definitely some specimens present at this service station. My favorite was this guy, of whom my cousin happened to snap a picture…

Notice the jorts that expose a little too much up top. I also think that the cowboy boots are a nice touch. Unfortunately (fortunately?) this picture does not capture the most disgusting (and simultaneously intriguing) beer belly I have ever seen in my life.  It did not resemble the more typical beer belly (round protruding object sticking out from an otherwise skinny person), but was instead more similar to this…

And, to top it all off, he rode off into the sunset in the passenger seat of his comrade’s silver Ford Mustang. Not really that big of a deal until you consider that he had a custom license plate that read P CHOP1. So awesome. Mothers and fathers beware, P CHOP1 and his copilot JRT MAN2 are on the prowl.