Spring Break Begins

We start every vacation with a trip to the World's Largest Truckstop in Walcott,Iowa. And that applies to this trip, too, because it's...Spring Break!

And Emmett has influenza. This is not an ideal beginning to our spring break vacation to Orange Beach, Alabama. We got the influenza diagnosis the day before, via a nasal swab test. With our fingers crossed that we don’t all catch it, and the doctor’s approval that he could ride in the car as long as he got lots of rest and fluids, we piled into the car on Friday and pulled out of the driveway around 11:00 a.m. Our goal tonight: Memphis. But first, Walcott, Iowa, where the World's Largest Truckstop lives.







We know this place well, although we usually just eat and shop a little (Emmett got his coonskin cap here). For truckers, it has not only showers, TV lounges, restaurants, truck washes, and lots of retail, but a movie theater, a barber, and a dentist.

We got some lunch—the kids had Wendy’s and we settled for Taco Bell since there wasn’t time to eat in the “real” restaurant—and then continued on our way, sailing uneventfully over the Mississippi River and into Illinois. I had considered various routes, including the Great River Road, but finally decided the Interstates would be faster. In retrospect, I’m not sure they were.

By the time we reached the Spoon River Rest Stop in Illinois, we were ready to stop again so we wandered around the wooden bridges and I took the camera up a flight of steps built into a hill and found this wooden watchtower. I didn’t climb it but plan to climb it someday. Angus would have climbed it if he’d been there, but he was busy skateboarding along the sidewalks.










Ben gave Emmett another dose of children’s Motrin and we continued on towards St. Louis, but I somehow got off on the wrong road and we ended looping around and going through the city twice. But that was serendipitous because the second time through, we stopped across from the arch, crossed the street, and the kids ran around the grassy lawn and stared at the arch from beneath. It’s dizzying and spectacular up close—or from afar, for that matter, especially at sunset, the sun glinting on the metal.
















On the way back across the road to our car, the kids and I leaned over the overpass to watch the cars on Interstate 55 whizzing by beneath us. Angus and Emmett made the universal trucker sign for “honk your horn” to several semis passing below, and two of them obliged with a satisfying beeeeeep as they roared under our feet. Angus said, “I love it when they do that!”

On the way up the hill, we passed a fire hydrant—bright red with a yellow painted cap. We looked at Emmett—dressed head to toe in a bright red sweatsuit. With his blonde hair, he looked just like the fire hydrant.
We drove a little farther and stopped at Bill Gianino’s for dinner. This little Italian spot in a strip mall south of the city met our need for local St. Louis-style Italian food. We started with some mediocre white bread, much improved with a drizzle of olive oil which stays on the table, and beverages (Sprite for kids, beer for us—when I asked if they had any microbrews, the waitress looked at me like, “Um, do you know where you are?” Right, it’s Anheuser-Busch country. I forgot. We ordered Heinekens.) We tried an appetizer of toasted ravioli, a St. Louis specialty we’d never had before. It’s basically deep-fat-fried ravioli filled with meat paste. Mild but satisfying, dipped in marinara. Everyone liked it except Emmett, who only tried it on the promise of dessert.


The chopped salads were huge and rich with cheese and oil. They were good but too big. Ben ordered veal piccata--lemony and rich. Angus ordered another appetizer portion of toasted ravioli, Emmett ordered a pepperoni pizza, and I ordered the special, seafood ravioli. I was a little disappointed that the seafood wasn't in the ravioli but in the sauce. The ravioli tasted kind of processed, but the sauce had creme, tomato, and a lot of chunky crab and gulf shrimp. I hardly had room for any of it, but the sauce was filled with cream and lots of chunky crab and shrimp. Emmett’s pizza was the classic St. Louis-style thin crust and he liked it but it looked pretty greasy. Ben’s side of penne with garlic cream sauce was under seasoned. I didn’t taste any garlic or salt.

We took pictures of all the food, but it wasn't photogenic food, so I'll spare you.

By this time, we realized we were way behind schedule, and way too full for dessert, so Emmett grudgingly accepted a rain check (he had been trying to decide between fried ice cream and triple chocolate cake, but even he had to admit he was really very full). All the stopping and misdirection had taken its toll, and our route was turning out to be a lot longer than I thought. Maybe we should have taken the highways after all, although we were never stuck in traffic on the interstate so I’m still not sure why it took so long.

We stopped twice more—once at a rest stop and once to fill up with more gas and coffee. Shortly after we entered Arkansas, we noticed grass...green grass!. It was starting to feel like spring.

We finally arrived in West Memphis, Arkansas, at around midnight. Exhausted, we checked into our two rooms, the kids kitty-corner from us, but as we were all unwinding, it started to rain, and then suddenly, big chunks of hail began pounding the parking lot and the cars. This was some big hail. It surprised us all. The kids, giddy with energy after a long day of sitting but also too tired to be awake, started laughing and shrieking and running in and out of the hail.



When the hail stopped and the kids didn’t, a woman opened her door and yelled, “Tell them to SHUT UP!” Like magic, the kids disappeared into their rooms, then called my phone. “Was she talking to us?” That’s all it took to settle them down. Before long, we all fell asleep, glad to know we were at least a little over half way there.

Tomorrow, we can’t possibly hit the road until we’ve had a look at Graceland.