At least there were no dueling banjos

I went away for the weekend to attend a girlfriend's wedding. Though a long drive (400 miles round trip), everything was beautiful - the wedding, the weather, her. She was, except for myself of course, the most beautiful bride I've seen. I wish her and her new husband the best of everything life and marriage has to offer.

I have to admit, however, that the trip to and the area itself was not at all what I was expecting and quite surreal. I am used to the signs appearing on highway entrance ramps stating 'Pedestrians Prohibited' or occasionally, 'Non-Motor Vehicles Prohibited' so I was amused, after making a pit stop, to re-enter the highway and see a sign that stated 'Pedestrians and Farm Animals Prohibited'. Has this been an ongoing problem? People herding cattle on to the highway?

I dismissed it, after a grin and a good chuckle, as 'okay, I'm officially in farm country now'. However, about an hour later, I came upon another sign. This one at the entrance to a side road. The sign read 'Do not enter when flooded'. Pause and consider this for a few moments. Not only did this obvious statement have to be made at all, but apparently, it is such a frequent occurrence that it necessitated a state or township paid for permanent sign. Lord, have mercy.

Luckily the southern accents exhibited by the locals was not so thick as to require a translator, as in the case of my brother who has lived in North Carolina most of his life, but it was surprising none the less. I did manage to find some good classic rock radio stations en route, which I was quite surprised at after the Farm Animal sign. Granted, there was a little more Lynyrd Skynyrd played then I'm used to, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I did come down with a fit of the giggles, I will admit, when the advertisements for the morning show of 'John Boy & Billy' were being advertised however. And I was downright hysterical with laughter when the man introducing himself as 'DJ Jethro' came on the air.

But everyone was very kind, helpful and generous and I enjoyed my weekend tremendously.

So where was this backwoods southern farming town?

Northern Ohio.

I shit you not.

So now I know, the next time I'm in the mood for a little southern hospitality, I just need to drive 200 miles North.