Inform the Colonel, we're off to Kentucky

Day 12, Thursday
Chicago to Kentucky
Raining at first, sunny later
This post by: Craig

The Colonel is big in Kentucky... and Tijuana

Hangovers suck balls. Hangovers and having to lug heavy cases through rain at 6 in the morning to get to a train then get to the airport to find that you’ve missed being allowed to check your case in by 10 minutes and thus you’ve missed your flight and been put on a waiting list for the next available seats and have to sit around the airport for at least another 3 hours… well, that sucks more than balls, it sucks both legs as well.

So we sat, waiting, hoping our names would shift from the “Stand By” list to the “Actual” list, and hoping we wouldn’t miss too much of FamFest ’09 in Kentucky! And do you want to know how hungover we were? Crystal ate three McHash Browns, and I had to bring myself to say the words, “Grande Frappucino, please.” Yegads!

And we made the next plane, hoorah!

The information screens had said there were thunderstorms in Louisville, Kentucky, which is right where we were headed. I overheard the flight attendant on the plane say to a fellow passenger: “The weather is going to be bad. Very, very, very, very bad. Just awful!” And we were in the tiniest plane ever, only 3 seats wide. Confidence… dwindling… On top of that, we’d brought too much hand luggage on, and I had to hide mine around my legs, with a black hoody used as some kind of magician’s cape. It worked, too. Not sure how safe it was, but it worked.

And you know what? The thunderstorm was blowing ahead of us, so by the time we took to the skies, it had moved on. Hoorah! Smooth flight, everybody happy, and didn’t have to hope that brown underpants dropped from the overhead panels! Phew!

Crystal’s cousin Gene and brother James met us at Louisville airport (and just a reminder that ‘Louisville’ is pronounced ‘Looo-vooo’, like blowing across a comb wrapped in tissue paper). And there were errands! Gene had to grab food and booze from various places, and while he did that, we goofed off in the car park:

James sez, "Welcome to the gun show, laydeeez..."

And thankfully, we were spared sharing the car with half a bison – Gene dropped us at his house for a rest while he and James sorted the rest.

Then we hit the road to Campbellsville, snoring most of the way (it had been a long day). We arrived at Morgan and Kathy’s house to wonderful FamFest decorations:

We figured we were at the right place

and an onslaught of happy people.

Some Chakos family clan (there were 40 peeps!)

Noise! Heat! Humidity! Food! It was a bit overwhelming for me at first, but I got there eventually! Crystal’s folks were there, it was family reunion TO THE MAX.

That's Russell on the right. Or is it Morgan? Hmmm...

And there was CORNHOLE! This is something that the Americans had been hinting at for months, not telling us what it was. We didn’t know whether to expect some bizarre drinking game, or some other game involving, well, BUMS… but we were thankful it was a bean-bag tossing game, with not a vegetable or lewd act in sight. Phew.

The bean-bag lobbing of Cornhole

A sport designed to leave a hand free for beer, hoorah!

And after a great meal from cousin Georgia and a few more beers, it was dusk.

Crystal and Barbra defy the 'dry county' laws, tootOOT!

The fireflies came out (really slow-moving flies that intermittently glow as bright as a match, awesome!) and the eyelids started getting heavy, so it was time to crash on Jordan’s floor. The next day was gonna be BIG.