And we’re back. After a long near-two weeks on the road, I’m back in Arlington, where I can finally get down to the important business of updating my blog, hanging out at Murky, reading books, and maybe even writing some things that people will pay me for. I was accompanied by a few friends for the drive from Nashville to here, which made the drive a lot more fun but also stretched it out quite a bit with things like a 45 minute breakfast at Hardee’s, a stop for me to pick up a magic performance table in Lebanon, TN, and night-time frisbee toss at a highway rest stop to try out a new light-up frisbee. The drive was capped off with me getting pulled over on I-66 in Fairfax and me getting out of the ticket for, I suspect, giving the officer such a ridiculous explanation for what why we were on a road trip.
Officer who has pulled me over for following another car too closely: So are you guys in a hurry to get somewhere?
Me: No sir, it’s just been a long day of driving. We’re coming home from a trip to Nashville.
Officer: Ah, what we’re you doing in Nashville?
Me, saying the first reason to come to mind: We went to a Hootie and the Blowfish concert.
Officer, laughing incredulously: You drove all the way to Nashville for a Hootie and the Blowfish concert?
As he laughed I ineffectually began to explain that there were other reasons, but by that time he was heading off to run my license and another car had pulled up. Soon another officer walked over and asked me to step out of the car. At this point I was expecting the worst, but his interrogation was pretty light. “So I hear you guys drove all the way to Nashville to see Hootie and the Blowfish?” He was laughing, so I agreed that this was a silly thing to do. He then asked if I had any explosives in the car (I didn’t) and sent a bomb-sniffing dog around it. The first officer came back, gave me a friendly warning instead of a ticket, and we were on our way.
I can’t know for sure, but my guess is that I owe my break to Hootie. Four guys traveling more than 10 hours for a Hootie concert, no girls in the car, and driving, of all things, a Pontiac Aztek, was probably enough strikes against us to make the officer decide that we had enough problems and that a ticket wasn’t necessary. So thank you, Darius Rucker. I’ll eat a Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch burger in your honor.
McGrouther and the Gelatinous Blindfish is not the name of a band, but it certainly should be. No, the gelatinous blindfish is a new addition to the Australian Museum Fish Site and another specimen from the NORFANZ expedition. Mark McGrouther sent me the link to this one while I was on the road, noting that a Mr. Blobby fan like me would like this one’s floppy jelly-like body and tiny eyes. Check it out here.