June 16, 2004 - Cedar Creek Campground, Sealevel, North Carolina

Took the ferry ride which gets you off the Outer Banks peninsula to the mainland. Starting to receive truck/camper envy. Some woman approached me in a parking lot back at Hatteras Sands and wanted to know if indeed it was a shortbed truck camper. Her husband didn't think they made them, yada yada yada. Gave her the spiel. While on the ferry, some guy with a Ford dually [translation: four rear wheels] pickup truck wanted to know the spiel about the truck camper. He was from Massachusetts and HE yada yada yada. While at a stop light at Myrtle Beach, we overheard some fatso redneck glance at our rig and say to his offspring, "Hey, look at that big ol' camper; wouldn't it be nice if we got one of those?" I felt like yelling back, "You can...GET A JOB!"

With a town name like SEALEVEL, we just had to stay there. Now THIS is the south. We pull into this joint which is a boat marina and a campsite. We walk past the ducks and register at this boathouse--plywood floor, pictures of rednecks wielding flyrods and dead seabass. The owner running the place had a bandage over his ear, covering some kind of infection. All I could think of was the film "Barton Fink" where John Goodman had this runny, pussy [that's puss-filled, not a kitty on his head] ear which would erupt from time to time. Armed with my camera, I was hoping the owner's ear would do the same.

When he rang up the bill, we handed him our credit card. He says, "We don' take no plastic." Back at the truck, Schnookie [HE'S DOING IT AGAIN!] and I spontaneously broke into a round of cliche southern accent patter like: "FLOOR TILES? Yoo best go on back to the KAY-OH-AY if yoo want FLOOR TILES!" We're almost exclusively speaking to each other with a drawn out southern accent. I'm going to have to put on some PBS when I get the satellite dish set back up.

Yes, there was an old wrinkly bumpy spotted guy with a messy handmade bandage over his left ear who said, "We don't take plastic." I wasn't paying attention to floor tiles or the lack thereof, however--the only thing I was thinking of was taking a shower and finding a comfy place to lay my weary head. It was very muggy and warm (where did the word "muggy" originate?).

You're going to have to excuse Eric: he grew up in Massachusetts, therefore he has the Yankee "superiority" thing about southerners. (Note the use of derogatory terms like "redneck.") When we first arrived into North Carolina, we stopped at a farm stand (the one next door to the place where I bought the country ham). I was buying some corn and he came up behind me, put a bottle of Coke on the counter and said (in a very bad accent, I might add), "I want this here Co-Cola." I wanted to kick him in the shins!

Having said all that, I have to admit--as I wrote in my journal: "Ain't nothin' here but busted-up chiffarobe campers, fishin' poles and floorless shacks. And a ice machine. Whoo-eee!"