23
Jul
07

Vince Lombardi Service Area

So apparently the rest stops on the NJ turnpike vary in their offerings – some have Starbucks and Popeye’s fried chicken. Others nothin’ but Burger King and some sad lookin’ hot dogs (e.g., Vince Lombardi). It helps to know in advance their line up along the highway, so as not to get screwed w/crappy Cinnabon coffee at 9pm on a Sunday night in traffic when you really need the ‘bucks caffeine jolt to carry you through the remaining 5 hours home to Boston.

We here at the M.A.S. seem to believe we’re holding on to our youth a little more tightly than it feels now on this Monday morning. We left Baltimore at 6pm last night and got home to Boston after 2am, only to have to unload 12 boxes from the car and then debate whether or not to leave the car in front of the hydrant rather than park in authorized but far-off and sketchy parking land at almost 3 am by now (We stayed in front of the hydrant, Brighton-style. No ticket this a.m. Nice!) Asleep by four, up at 11am by alarm to try to capture some semblance of a normal day.

I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, and I’m definitely not fully awake even as I type. Yay coffee.

But it’s good to be home, after a busy busy week of consulting work mixed with non-stop visits to family and friends in the D.C. metro area. A half doz Maryland blue crabs at Obrycki’s before we got on the road last night and some great convos about past and present relationships got us through the long ride home. I know the M.A.S. is already gunning for a third round of mini-golf to try and steal the Championship title I’m still holding after round two last week in suburban VA, one of our few moments to ourselves (other than an impromptu field trip to HUD on Saturday night while we waited for friends to meet us in the city. But more on that urban planning geekiness later. Round 1 was in Sarasota in March with my dad and stepmom; I schooled them all.)

Thanks to Weboy and Sheelzebub (at Pandagon) for posting on topics near and dear to me, though I’ve definitely got a response to the former in the works when I finally bounce back here.

In the interim, if you had your own personal turnpike, who would you name your rest stops after? (One of the many fun highway games we played. Another: Redstar’s Presidential Campaign Platform! “No More Traffic.”)

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5 Responses to “Vince Lombardi Service Area”


  1. 1 Bill Pollock
    July 23, 2007 at 1:27 pm

    I used to pass by this REAL one on my way back to school.

    http://www.onmilwaukee.com/visitors/articles/bong.html

  2. July 23, 2007 at 2:17 pm

    Ha! Seems they left one of the most obvious pasttimes out of their listings of family fun for everyone!

    This is where I prevailed in mini-golf:

    http://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/parks/burkelake/

    Place is great, with 4.5 miles of trail around the lake, which has fishing, boating, etc. A mini-train that goes around the place. A golf course, an ice cream shop w/excellent hot dogs (fueling up for the mini golf competition), a frisbee golf area, etc. Good times, good times.

  3. July 23, 2007 at 3:25 pm

    Well, you should have talked to me – as a long distance driving veteran, especially of the 95 corridor between DC and NYC (remember, I came from Baltimore?), I would have three words for you: Delaware Service Area. Almost everything on the NJ turnpike pales in comparison to this all inclusive paradise. (Of course, with my love of Chick-Fil-A, I now use the Chick-Fil-A map feature to find the most convenient mall in Delaware or MD.) What’s more, of all the service areas on the Turnpike, Vince Lombardi is the absolute worst of the bunch, catering to long-haul truckers just off of, or just heading to get on, the GW Bridge. Better to hit the more recently renovated ones around Exits 8 and 9, if you absolutely must.

    Anyway, welcome back! I guess you won’t kill me, just eviscerate my argument. 🙂

  4. July 23, 2007 at 5:10 pm

    The problem for us is when we were ready to stop, we wanted to stop (Ladies’ Room, anyone?). We didn’t really plan around the service stops.


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