Landed in Pensacola without a hitch and picked up my ride, a brand new Chevy Traverse, loaded. One of the first things I noticed about driving here in the deep South is that the use of turn signals is definitely an option or a sign of weakness, take your pick, but it's really OK to change lanes without signaling. I still had another 65 miles to plow through to get to my hotel in Mobile. The route was mostly on Interstate 10 through the piney woods that make up the natural environment here. Crossing Mobile Bay was really quite beautiful. I was trying to imagine Union Admiral David Farragut steaming his way into the Bay shouting "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"
With the ease of modern technology whose name is Tom Tom, I found my hotel. The front desk clerk was an affable African American woman who asked me "What brings you to Mobile?" I'm thinking Mobile, it's definitely not pleasure, so I answered truthfully "business" which is nobody's business but my own. Then out loud she read my company's name on my company shirt. Maybe I don't get this Southern chit-chat curiosity and maybe I'm just a little too Pacific Northwest reserved. I should probably lighten up.
After throwing my bag into the room and a little nest building, I cruised out to look for food. I was starving after a long day of travel fueled on Starbucks and scones. I quickly found a fast food place, Raising Cane's, that served up all manner of deep fried chicken strips, or as they refer to them in the South, chicken tenders. Fried chicken, for sure I was in the South.