I can’t remember if was in Arkansas or Tennessee, but we were driving along a stretch of highway that was flanked by opposing camps engaged in an epic battle for our very souls. On our right were giant billboards advertising Adult Books and Videos. Every few miles we’d see one, and on the other side of the road would be the counter-message, straight from You Know Who. Hell is real. That’s the one that really grabbed my attention. And having just suffered the ignorance of eighteen-wheeled a-holes for the previous three hundred miles, I couldn’t agree more.
Hell is real, and it can also disguise itself as a Taco Bell in Tennessee, where the spicy chicken tacos gnaw at your insides, compelling you to jump the highway divide into on-coming traffic. Yes, Hell can take many forms. It’s sneaky like that. I believe that’s where we really went after the Rehearsal Dinner on Friday. The sign out front said “Ernie Bigs,” but the shitty music and drunk, obnoxious frat boys inside said “Welcome to Hell!” But I prayed hard to You know who, and he came to me in the form of an elderly black man driving a yellow car, who whisked me away from the licking flames and deposited me safely back at the hotel.
Another one of the signs on the left side of the highway said “I love you,” and it was signed by You know who. I believe that one too, although the guy standing behind me in line at the adult bookstore said the same thing.