SOUTHERN IMMERSION NIGHT

The wife and I, we like to understand the culture we're living in so we can appreciate it more. I mean, you wouldn't move to NYC and never try a bagel, right? Fortunately, we've made some friends who have taken on the challenge of explaining the ways of our new home. So last Saturday night, we had dinner at a place called Hillbilly Hideaway, an all-you-can-eat no-menu kind of place with fried chicken, ribs, cornbread, beans, coleslaw, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, some other kind of delcious bread, ham, cooked apples, and of course sweet tea to drink. No booze and no dancing, so bring the preacher kind of place. I gorged.

Out back, they had a little stage where bluegrass and country is played to aid the digestion. I successfully resisted the urge to dance. It wasn't easy. I wanted to go up there and sing along.

After a while, we headed out to the drive-in to watch Talladega Nights. I haven't been to a drive-in since I was knee-high to a grasshopper (the movie was Bambi. I've been a fan of venison ever since). Yeah, I said it. I'll say it again: knee-high to a grasshopper. Got a problem with that? Didn't think so.

Drive-ins are far superior to movie theaters. The movie was very funny, even though they mixed up Busch series cars with Nextel. I managed to keep my NASCAR snobbery to myself so as not to diminish the experience for others. Another thing that was unrealistic: they had Kyle Petty qualifying 4th at Talladega. Kyle, you're great, but you and I both know that won't happen.

Anyway, good times were had by all. Next week: moonshine and snake-handling.