First: what do you get when you cross Rose from Titanic and Bender from The Breakfast Club?

"I'll...never...let...go...bud!"

Well, I'm back. Damn, I love vacations.

Sonya and I left Memphis last Friday night - I think it was the 28th. We took a collection of back roads and Alabama highways to Chattanooga, Tennessee. In Chattanooga, I turned right.

By the way, we took the wrong road immediately outside of Memphis, resulting in a scenic detour along one-lane roads and scary, Stephen King-ish little towns. The only things I learned about Chattanooga on my midnight drive through was that it's at the bottom of a hill and apparently you can buy fireworks there.

We got an el cheapo hotel room in Dalton, Georgia early Saturday morning. We got up and went back out on the road a few hours later. Observations from Georgia: Atlanta looks like a SimCity 2000 city and the Chick-Fil-A in Macon has some fine sammitches.

So we pushed on, spent Saturday in the car and rolled into Daytona about seven that night. Daytona is a sight, I tell you - the main beach drag, Atlantic Avenue, is wall to wall souvenir shops, seafood joints, bars, hotels and condominiums. You should have seen the place we stayed. Our little one-bedroom was decorated with porthole mirrors, a harpoon over the kitchen, and a ship's wheel clock and table. Where there wasn't wood paneling there was mirrors. There was also an honest-to-god ship's wheel on the wall, along with a depth chart of the Gulf of Mexico. It had a combination seventies/nautical feel.

I went around making pirate noises for ten minutes after we got there.

And the bed, oh man! The bed itself was pretty normal, but it lit from underneath, giving the whole room a Barry White, oh-baby glow.

So after that we lounged on the beach, played in the water, got some some sun. You know, beach stuff. We also went to Universal Studios. Me, Sonya and the entire population of England were there. I heard more foreign accents than American ones, which was cool.

Just for the record, European girls don't care if their ass is hanging out of their shorts. I saw it - I know. I'm sure showing your ass will be the next big fashion trend next summer.

We did some other touristy stuff, too. Kennedy Space Center was nifty - I saw the Space Station! And St. Augustine for Ripley's Believe It or Not, the Fountain of Youth and outlet mall shopping.

Funny story. Sonya and went to the place called Sloppy Joe's one night for dinner. The joint was pretty much deserted but we had to sit in the smoking section, which was by the pool tables. In the dark. You see, the lights were blown in that section for some reason. But we did have a clear view of all the televisions.

Our waiter was a bit light in his loafers, but he looked like Hootie from Hootie and the Blowfish. You know, the black guy.

So Sonya wanted onion rings with her sandwich instead of french fries. No can do, our fancy yet soulful waiter replied. Swapping side dishes was totally verboten by the management. Sonya's mood immediately darkened. Whenever our waiter passed nearby she'd shout "Hootie!" and "Darius!" at him. I joined in.

So we're eating, both a touch unsatisfied with the place, when some sample-heavy rap song came on the MTV. Sonya and I started talking about sampling - specifically, how are the original artists reimbursed when their music is sampled.

"I know there was a big fuss a few years ago," Sonya said, "you know, about that Queen song."

I didn't know which song she was talking about. "Which one?" I asked.

"You know," she said, "the one Ice Daddy did."

I sat puzzled that over for a second. "Ice Daddy?" I said dubiously, "do you mean Vanilla Ice?"

And that was it. She started laughing. I started laughing. We laughed and laughed. Hootie gave us weird looks. Soon, I had Sonya saying, "I'll never let go, Ice Daddy" a la Kate Winslet.

So now I am Ice Daddy and Sonya is my rose. But that's another story...

We had a big time.

We came back through New Orleans on Saturday night, which was fun, as New Orleans always in on Labor Day weekend. We had dinner at the House of Blues and then wandered the French Quarter. If you don't know, Labor Day weekend in the Quarter is Southern Decadence, a gathering of homosexuals of every type and description. It's a hoot to watch - like a gay Mardi Gras, really. I never seen so many leather chest harnesses and exposed male buttocks. They were having a big time so we observed the festivities for a while before retiring to Deja Vu, a fine little dive just off Bourbon.

The next morning we drove down to Thibodaux to have lunch with a friend of Sonya's. Red beans and rice, jambalaya and steak. Excellent. Then a tour through Oak Alley (Brad Pitt's plantation home in Interview with the Vampire - Sonya took lots of pictures, we're hoping for something supernatural) and the six-hour drive home. We got in at about midnight and started distributing the souvenirs.

So now I'm broke and peeling. And I wanna go back so bad it hurts.

Must become independently wealthy soon...

And a big shout-out to Renee, who sent me my first piece of unsolicited fan mail that wasn't from a friend of mine. Renee's unfortunately-departed journal was too cool - her relationship with her in-laws tickled the hell out of me.

Web-based fame, here I come!

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