And, We're Off!

Check in? Check. Unpack? Check. Bathroom break? Check. Back in the car? Check.

While we drive into town and park, the children bicker about which of two places in which we will eat lunch. Please note that neither child has visited either place before and has nothing on which to base their choices, just a burning desire to disagree with one another.

We decide (I decide) on Hil's choice, the Blue Parrot, and head in that direction. I choose it because for all of Gettysburg's familiarity, I have never been there. Why not add to the adventure?

Unfortunately, though the door is open, the place is closed. Closed for those boring, sober hours between the traditional lunch hour and dinner. (What? No Happy Hour?) A disinterested woman behind the bar is more than happy to shoo us out. Not at all disappointed that she doesn't have to serve us a couple of grilled cheeses and maybe some sodas. Perhaps a pint of beer for Mom's jangled nerves.

We head to the other choice, The Pub, with no intention of returning to the Blue Parrot for dinner. Tonight or the next. They don't get a second chance. On the way, we pass a military surplus store. Guns. Ammo. Camo. Gear. It is calling to Pat like The Sirens. He could easily monopolize every moment of our trip browsing the aisles of this dusty little jam-packed store owned and operated by a completely miserable overly serious young man. The kind that would lecture you if he thought you were buying the gas mask as part of your Halloween costume, God forbid. I am secretly praying that it burns down while we are at lunch. Pat is frothing at the mouth. Hil is chomping at the bit. Mom is having a low blood sugar moment.

We make our way to lunch. The service at The Pub is accommodating as usual. Jovial, helpful, patient with indecisive tweens, discreet with Mom's growing thirst for a Big Ass Beer.

We order and wait for our food, and while we do, we look over the tour guide pamphlet we got at the hotel and plan our trip. Shops to visit. Sights to see. Restaurants to try. Trips to the hotel pool and hot tub. Things to avoid. We won't be boring Hil with a battlefield tour, though Pat would love one. We also won't be scaring the bejeezus out of ourselves with a Ghost Tour. Hil would love it but Pat's nerves would be in shreds. Most of all, Hil wants to try on vintage clothes. Pat most wants to find a replica Civil War rifle. We can accomplish both by visiting the General Store. We were there last time and never made it back during the trip to purchase the things we'd found. Both kids are so excited to be going back.

The food comes. We eat and talk and laugh. Then we walk up the street, feed the meter, and head up town in the direction of the General Store. I am not entirely sure of the address but I'll know it whe we see it.

Uh-oh.

The house that once held all the vintage clothes and Civil War memorabilia and 1800's-style crafts and costume period jewelry has been repurposed as an historical research center!

The kids stand on the sidewalk staring in shocked disbelief.

I am going to have to tap dance pretty fast to get over this speed bump. Mama may need another Big Ass Beer.