There’s been an absolute avalanche of chaos and confusion going on in my corner of the world so it took me a whole week to get back to writing part two of my Vermont adventures but here we are!

We had already had an awesome day of a completely overwhelming amount of antiquing. We were lacking in sleep, my companion had come down with something, and on top of that a number of negative complications from personal life were butting in our free wheeling. Also we were both getting hangry- that lovely point when you’re so hungry you’re either yelling or crying for no reason. And this was the point in our travels that everything also started to go wrong.

You see Vermont is very mountainous and rural and cell phone coverage and internet connection here can be… unreliable at best. So there we were, hungry, in the middle of the goddamn mountains in an unfamiliar town having no idea where to find some good grub.

I sucked in a good breath, tested my own patience, and said, “Well… we could just follow the signs to Rutland which I know is a city and would have both coverage and a place to eat…” We agreed this was best and set off back the roads from whence we came, over some bear-sized potholes, until we arrived in Ludlow. You might recognize Ludlow is not Rutland but it’s Ludlow where our internet started working again and it seemed decently populated, enough so to have a place to eat. So instead of continuing another half an hour or so we decided to pull over in a gas station and see what there was for good grub rather than risk losing connection again.

I nearly lost an axel pulling into this gas station over a pothole that may as well been a crater. CLUNK CLUNK!

Cars in this town were 100% unforgiving of anyone who didn’t know where they were going or going slower than 10-15 miles over the speed limit so I also had another car close to rear ending me as I drove over the aforementioned crater. My companion is in charge of picking places to eat so he found a place and we headed off. It wasn’t far away but it was unbeknownst to us in a ski lodge that was filled to capacity and despite being in the middle of the woods was swarmed with people. Restaurant parking was full and I wasn’t about to figure out how much ski lodge parking cost so annoyed we turned around and made our way back to town but before getting there I had some jack ass laying on his horn telling me I needed to turn and turn NOW. Only one problem with that, another giant jack ass pick up had pulled up beside me and was halfway into the intersection completely blocking my view. So I was patiently waiting rather than playing Russian roulette with oncoming traffic in a goddamn Prius. Mind you the Prius gets honked at A LOT, almost always from pick up trucks who think they’re God’s gift to the roads. I’m used to it but on this day that was the straw that broke the camel’s back and I just started screaming back at the fucker and his privileged ski bunny ass.

We found a taco place down the road and turned out it but it was bizarrely a pick-up only restaurant. A pizza parlor was next door but there was no parking and by now we were both intensely agitated and yelling.

“That’s not a parking space!”

“I KNOW! I’M TRYING TO TURN AROUND!”

The pizza place was Goodman’s American Pie. We weren’t looking for pizza but we needed something so I parked nearby and we walked back not realizing this place was also an arcade filled with unsupervised children, some of them joyfully screaming. We may have been holding back visible twitches at this point as we ordered and looked to see if there was anywhere to sit.

The only table they had left open was a tiny bar stool table next to the pool table where three children were playing something, though I can’t say it was entirely pool, more a chaotic mix of pool, bowling, fishing, and water polo, you know all the big ones. Though our table was above their little heads they still managed to repeatedly whack it with the ass end of the pool sticks.

My companion took this moment to go to the bathroom, probably in part to supress any growing homicidal thoughts regarding the situation.

Meanwhile another overly privileged asshole could be heard making an order on the phone as the poor kid taking the call asked his boss, “Uhhh… can we make 45 pizzas in an hour?” One employee, 45 pizzas, and this SOB wanted the whole order in an hour.

I wad SHOCKED to see my own pizza served to our table only moments later. That is the quickest service I have EVER gotten in any restaurant. It seemed to defy physics. The brick oven pizza was basically lava but I was halfway done horking down my first slice before my companion returned.

We ate in silence and with the ferver of rabbid raccoons before stopping at the end and stating, “I needed that.” YEAH, we both did. And that’s how we managed to stop yelling at each other for no reason and retired for the day. And for all it’s worth although neither one of us ever want to return to Ludlow that was still a damn good pizza.