Posts Tagged ‘going home’

We were all ready to go home by Sunday morning. We had a good time, but even the beach can wipe you out after awhile.

While Diamondqueen took a load of bags down to the car, I snapped a photo of the hippos and Dooney the cheetah on our room balcony. Funny, they didn’t look tired at all.

We still needed to get breakfast. The night before, Diamondqueen had dug out the local phone book and discovered two listings for Krispy Kreme stores. So instead of starting out along the Mapquest-recommended route, we started up a parallel boulevard, keeping our eyes peeled for one of those miraculous green and white stores with the neon sign announcing hot doughnuts. (We had them for awhile in the Cincinnati area. One burned down and another closed. We can get Krispy Kreme just about anywhere, from Kroger’s to the Shell station, but it’s just not the same.)

It felt as if we were driving forever, but intense pursuit has that effect. At last, we spotted Nirvana. As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw that there was a line that nearly ran out the front door. So strong was the attraction, though, that we went in anyhow.

Most patrons were taking their doughnuts with them, so we were able to get a cramped table near the front windows. I’d forgotten how amazing a hot, fresh glazed doughnut tastes.

While we were eating, we kept our eyes on a pair of dogs outside. They appeared to be a golden Lab and maybe a weimaraner, and they were sitting in the back of a pick-up truck inside a camper cap with the back window open. They gazed continually at the front door, and it was easy to imagine they were anticipating a doughnut eventually. One kept resting his/her chin on the top of the tailgate. They were adorable. We kept hoping their owner would come out so we could see how the dogs reacted, but they were still waiting as we cleaned up our things.

They were parked next to the van, so of course Diamondqueen had to say something to them. “Aw, are you waiting for a doughnut,” she cooed in her sweetest I-love-doggies voice.

In a flash the golden Lab-like dog transformed into Cujo, barking ferociously with tremendous warning and authority. Diamondqueen recoiled as she was opening the van door for J.Hooligan, and we grimaced in horror at one another. Hours later, halfway between Richmond and Charlottesville, she muttered, “I’m not talking to any more strange doggies!”, still taken aback by the encounter. Maybe the poor beast simply hadn’t had his morning coffee yet.


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