I emptied my suitcase on the floor and started to dig. After I had found my missing belt, I stood up, shook out my wet hair, and threw on some mascara. I grabbed my pre-prepared bags of camera gear and wedding paraphernalia, and the doorbell rang. Tara was standing outside with a big smile. I instantly felt inferior. She looked cute.
We loaded up my little two door car and I printed directions-just in case. It was our wedding adventure-heading to a small rural Indiana town to photograph a family member's wedding.
The church wasn't hard to find, but when we got there, we knew that food was going to be necessary to make it through the rest of the day. After we scouted out photo locations, we put our eyes to good use finding a restaurant.
There.Was.Nothing. In that little town. Nothing. No, I take that back, there was a convenient store. We cautiously walked into the store. It was like we were in some Julia Robert's movie going on a road trip. There were some sketch looking pizzas sitting out, and a whole slew of Little Debbie's.
We decided to put our stomachs (and the fate of the rest of the day) in another location. Across the street, there was a "Fish and Steak" place. We walked into a barren eatery. As we walked across the dining room, I couldn't help but notice that my shoes were sticking to the carpeted floor. I looked up at Tara, and she was staring down at her own feet. We'd both noticed it. We were in our own episode of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. The only thing that was missing was Guy's fiery personality.
Our food arrived, and we got it to-go. It was quite possibly the most greasy ham and cheese I've ever had. But, we felt small-towny. Road-trippy. And fat. It's funny how only driving 30 minutes from my town of residence can take you into a totally different world. Very different.
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