April 26, 2007 – Me and Del were singin' little 'Runaway.' I was drivin'.

Today I pretty much just drove. I left Florence around 11am…because what else are you going to do in Florence, South Carolina?

I had decided that Virginia Beach was pointless. I mean, it’s a beach. Yes, I love beaches. They’re fun just to walk down for hours. But not when there are hundreds of people crowding them.

Of course, about half way to Richmond, I remembered why I wanted to go to Virginia Beach in the first place: the Beatles’ Museum.

Dammit.

Oh well. Next time.

I think I’m also going to take a little detour after I leave NYC and pick my car up from Not Philly. (My friend who lives there hates it when I say that she lives in Philly.) There’s really nothing that I care about between Philly and, say, Pittsburgh. So I’m going to come back south a little bit and check out the Shenandoah National Park and the Skyline Drive. It’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful drives in the country. I’ll let you know.

By the way, just so you know, John Denver was wrong. The Shenandoah River doesn’t run through West Virginia. And the Blue Ridge Mountains are in North Carolina. So, I guess that means that West Virginia ISN’T ‘almost heaven.’

As to why I know all this about that song….shut up.

Anyway…um…so I drove to Richmond today. It’s about a five hour drive. Not too bad, but not fun, either. Although, I-95 is, for the most part, a really pretty drive.

There’s really only one reason that I was going to Richmond: The Edgar Allen Poe Museum. It in the oldest house in Richmond (built somewhere around 1737. Poe never lived there, but he did go there once when he escorted Lafayette through Richmond during his tour of the US.

Poe was born in Boston and died in Baltimore, but he grew up in Richmond and always considered it his home.

The museum was pretty good, and it was only $5 to do a self-guided tour, so it was totally worth it. They have a lot of first editions and bits and pieces of Poe’s life throughout the grounds of the Old Stone House.

(A little shrine they have in the back yard of the house. No notes saying, ‘I’m coming to be with you, Ed!’, though. Disappointing.)

(Said back yard.)

Richmond looks like a pretty cool town with lots of historic buildings, but I’m not so sure that the historic district is a very good neighborhood. I dunno. I didn’t really want to walk around it too much.

But one more stop that I had to make was St. John’s Church. This is where Patrick Henry made his ‘Give me Liberty or give me death’ speech. I’m not sure if they chill I got was from being there or because it’s actually kinda chilly here in Virginia tonight.

(Of course, it’s under re-construction. Story of my trip.)

(This is another old church that I actually thought was the Poe Museum. Looks pretty damn creepy.)

I’m staying in a motel in Williamsburg tonight so I can check out where it all started tomorrow.

What’s interesting is that this isn’t your typical corporate motel. I kinda like it. It’s a little Bates Motel-ish, but not so creepy.

I almost stayed in a place called The Motel Rochambeau. It was the cheapest one in the AAA guide. When it was closed, I was ready to Rochambeau someone for a room.

One more thing: on the way to Richmond, I think I almost got pulled over for no reason. I was boppin’ along at the speed limit when I looked in my rearview mirror (which was empty five seconds before) and there was a Statey right on my ass. Like, RIGHT on it. So I pulled over to the right lane to let him pass. Instead, he pulled up right beside me, looked at me and fell back.

About a mile later, there was a big plastic thing in the road that everybody was swerving around. I was about to call 311 to tell them that, if their cops were bored, there was something to do on I-95.

Then, on the drive from Richmond to Williamsburg, I realized why there were so many bored State Troopers around: West Point is right here. That means that there are a lot of kids who graduate and don’t make it into the military. So they go be Stateys. Which puts a LOT of cops on the streets. A lot of cops means bored dudes with cars and guns.

Wow. Not a good combination.

I really don’t have anything against cops. Hell, one of my best friends is a cop. But I do have something against BORED cops. Especially when they decide to follow the long-haired hippy Texan just because he ‘doesn’t belong.’ (Because OBVIOUSLY, if I have long hair and am from fucking TEXAS, I must be a hippy.) Fuck that.

That’s it for now. More tomorrow.