This weekend, Harold and I loaded a uHaul with his boxes of comics, boxes of books, more boxes of comics, and maybe some clothes and a couple pieces of furniture, and started driving south from Brooklyn to Chapel Hill. Harold’s going to be starting work at 519 Games, which is not actually named that because it’s 519 miles away from my apartment in Brooklyn. That just also happens to be true.
We did not take the efficient route described there, instead we took a roundabout route more suited to anxiously driving a truck, where we could talk and laugh and watch the scenery. We passed through a small town in Maryland, where lawn signs hotly debated an upcoming school board election, and past a liquor store offering ALL DAY open sunday DISCOUNT drive through LIQUOR, where the cacophony of fonts was just as entertaining as the concept of drive-through booze, through miles of early-autumn farmland. The best was a small auto-body shop promising We Meet By Accident.
I wasn’t exactly looking forward to arriving in North Carolina (if I haven’t mentioned it recently, that’s because North Carolina is the worst place ever, and plus it makes me horrible too), but I enjoyed every minute of the drive down.