It was imperative to go back to Dutch Haven the next morning before we left Lancaster. Crybaby Henry wanted to get a piece of shoo-fly pie and Chooch and I wanted souvenirs for our peeps. Plus, I like to look at the windmill on top of the store.
“How many pictures of that do you need!?” Henry cried when I went out front to take another picture. AS MANY AS THE DUTCH GIRL INSIDE OF ME DESIRES, OK FATHER?
I almost bought this Amish bonnet for Andrea because she said she wanted Amish shit, but I just couldn’t decide which one would make her look like the best Chaste Candlemaker. So I got her other Amish shit instead which of course I haven’t mailed yet, because I have a Lazy Sender reputation to uphold.
Chooch so badly wanted a t-shirt of a bunch of cats on the beach. It said “Beach Bums” and the back of the shirt was a picture of the cats’ asses. We literally fought about this shirt in the middle of the store because hello, I’m not buying some stupid beach t-shirt when Lancaster doesn’t even have a beach! Get a courting candle or GTFO kid!!
He ended up getting a little Amish doll magnet — for his TEACHER whom he loves more than me.
Of course, he managed to lose the magnet during his spring break.
Thank god for the Roadside America app or else we would have gotten home about 4 hours earlier than we actually did. There is a ton of tacky shit to see and do along the historic Rt. 30, so I was pretty thankful for our bent wheel keeping us off the turnpike.
One of the things I desperately wanted to do was take a tour of a Shoe House in Hellam, PA. I emailed them a few days beforehand to see if anyone would be around to give us a tour and they said NO. I flew into a rage that night at work. DON’T LIVE IN A HOUSE SHAPED LIKE A SHOE IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE AVAILABLE TO GIVE A TOUR, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!
I mean….maybe next time.
On our way to Lancaster the day before, we kept seeing signs for Smittie’s Soft Pretzels but never actually found Smittie and his soft pretzels. Near Gettsyburg, the signs began popping up again, but unless Smittie was selling his wares from inside a broke-down van from 1983 (one of the signs was propped up against its hood), there was no sight of any damn pretzels.
Miles later, I screamed, “THERE! ANOTHER SMITTIE’S SIGN!” Henry pulled over down the street and there it was — the elusive pretzel van.
The pretzels were eh.
“They’d be better if they were warm,” Henry lamented. Yeah, what’s up with that, Smitty? Maybe he should have my co-worker Cheryl send out an email for a pretzel warmer contribution drive. She’s really good at collecting money, on par with the paperboy from “Better Off Dead,” at least.
Fuck you and your room temp pretzels, Smitty. You cunt.
Of all places, Henry was the most adamant about stopping at Mister Ed’s.
“Is it going to make us miss Mister Ed’s?” he interrogated me when I mentioned casually some of the other awesome tourist traps I wished to visit. Then I figured out he probably just wanted to see if they had any old-timey candy from his childhood.
We were going to stop there the day before, but they were having some gigantic Easter egg hunt and there were millions of screaming kids and their asshole parents milling about, so we kept on driving and felt extremely thankful that Chooch was sleeping in the backseat, else we’d have never heard the end of it.
So, the story is that Mister Ed has been collecting elephantine things for his entire life, for no good reason. Except that if I had watched the video playing in the small museum, or read any of the signs on the walls, or cared enough to Google, I would probably have way more information to enlighten you guys right now. But the truth is that I stopped reading when I got to “over 5,000 elephant items” because really, what else do I need to know?
Wait! Lies! I’m telling lies again! I did read that Mister Ed’s had a fire a few years ago and over 2,000 of his elephant thingies perished. He ended up receiving OVER FIVE THOUSAND more in the mail from kind-hearted hoarders all over the world.
Mister Ed’s is basically just a roadside candy & gift shop with way too many stuffed animals for Chooch to beg for. Henry was mad at us for some reason that I forget now so he wouldn’t even stand near us inside the store. We even let him buy himself a Mallo Cup, but he was still being a total Hoover. Then he got mad because I bought a maple cake even though he mumbled, “You’re not going to like that.”
Well guess what? He was right. It was disgusting. But still!
I know. Don’t say it. This is going to be Chooch as an old man, but with tens of thousands of cat curios.
The actual elephant museum was only one room, but it was still worth it. Mister Ed even had the same elephant table as me! Except that his is elephant-colored, not pink. I bought a small Hindu-esque elephant from the gift shop and now I don’t know where I put it. I also bought a Mister Ed’s magnet and lost that, too. I always happen to LOSE STUFF after Henry cleans the house.
Ugh, I wish this was for sale!! I’ll just get Henry to make me one, I guess. In lieu of an engagement ring, maybe.
Henry, being miserable. Even in a pachyderm paradise.
That elephant was supposed to talk, but it did NOT.