Day Six: How Dry I Am

Day Six: How Dry I Am

My intention for tonight was to draft a simple blog about our experience at Washington State Park, have a nice adult beverage, watch the hockey game and get a good night sleep before a long ride up the western edge of Arkansas to see a few Civil War battlefields tomorrow.  Ah, the best laid plans……

We returned to the hotel and wandered across the street to the gas station to buy some beer for Jason and Mike’s Hard Lemonade (I hoped) for me. Since we’d seen beer and wine in every gas station we stopped in after Pennsylvania, we didn’t think it would be an issue. Silly us. No beer. No wine. Nothing with alcohol content stronger than water. Ok. Maybe that particular gas station simply didn’t sell it, but before we went on to the next station, we decided head back to the hotel and ask at the front desk.

“Do you know where we can buy some beer or wine?”

“Oh no deah, this is a dry county.”

“Really?” I tried not to sound shocked. After all, this IS Arkansas.

“But I can give ya’ll directions to the liquor store,” she offered, rummaging matter-of-factly through her file index, pulling out a slip of paper with typed directions. “Here ya go, deah. It’s just a short ride over the bridge and down the haway in Miller County.”

Miller.  How appropriate.

So we took the slip of paper back to our room, stifling our giggles until we were out of earshot. It then dawned on Jason as to why he couldn’t find an Applebees, Chili’s or sports bar of any kind closer than Texarkana. So, no alcohol, no hockey, and the only restaurants we’d seen were fast food chains. It wasn’t turning into the promising evening we had expected.

The Boll Weevil, yes… that’s the name of the liquor store….was only a few miles away, so we decided to make the run.  Donning helmets, we climbed on the bike and headed on down the “haway”. 

I wish I’d thought to bring my camera.

The building was certainly nothing to speak of, distinguished only by the giant green letters spelling out BOLL WEEVIL LIQUORS and DELI. The parking lot, on the other hand, looked like the mall on December 23^rd.  There had to be twenty or more trucks parked in the lot, not counting the two that pulled in ahead of us.  The entrance was like a two-way conveyor belt – truck in, truck out, two in, two out. And every patron wore the same uniform – faded blue jeans, graphic tee shirt, construction boots, ragged baseball cap and black sunglasses. In they went and out they came, brown paper bag in hand.

Jason and I sighed deeply and went inside, clearly out of our element.  The air was heavy with the smell of grease (Fried chicken, yes. Bologna, no, so I was confused about the whole ‘deli’ concept). and the left and back walls were lined with beer coolers. While Jason and I surveyed the shiny cans and bottles, it was no nonsense for everyone else. They bee-lined to their beverage of choice, walked up to the counter, paid and left. With no Mike’s in sight, I settled on a large-sized Smirnoff Ice. Jason pulled out a 40 oz. bottle of Bud Light, and we did what felt like the Perp Walk, without the paparazzi and coat over our heads, to the counter.

With brown-bagged bottles in hand, we went back out to the bike and loaded them into the saddlebag, while the trucks continue to pull in and out. It was amazing.

We waited for five more vehicles to make the right into the lot before we could pull out, and as we made our getaway, I felt like a fugitive smuggling contraband across the county line.

With the bottles chilling in our in-room refrigerator, dinner was the next decision.

Staying true to our commitment to eat locally at least once a day, Big Jake’s BBQ, the home of the Original Fried Pies, was the hands down winner. Of course, being the only place within 15 minutes helped.

A local favorite, judging by the parking lot, we entered with high hopes and were not disappointed. Jason ordered the small plate with beef brisket, ribs, corn and coleslaw, and I had the same, with chicken as my BBQ choice.  The meal was served in paper lined plastic dishes, with plastic silverware and rolls of paper towels on the table.  It was awesome.  And because we felt we had to, we tried the coconut fried pie; batter covered coconut cream pie filling deep fried and served in a paper sleeve.  Also, a tasty treat.

So now, we’re back in our room watching the Boston Red Sox instead of the Boston Bruins, drinking water instead of alcohol and looking for Harley Dealers along tomorrow’s route.

And yes, I’ll still blog about Washington State Park, but it may have to wait until morning.