Roanoke: I Hardly Knew Ye, March 2017

I had flown into Roanoke late, picked up my puke green KIA rental, and drove to the Super 8 I booked near the airport. You know how in movies when the protagonist is lost at sea in a raft or stranded on a deserted island and just as they are about to give up all hope they spot a rescue party on the horizon? That exact same thing happened to me only instead of being lost at sea, I was super hungry. And instead of a rescue party, it was a Waffle House.

I shouted, “YES!!!” and punched the steering wheel repeatedly when I saw the glowing yellow sign as the GPS guided me to my hotel, which shared a parking lot with the Waffle House. Within 5 minutes I had checked in, dropped off my bags, and was sitting on a stool in the Waffle House waiting for my smothered and covered hash browns. I have never booked a hotel room based on its proximity to a Waffle House but motherfucker I might.

Whilst sipping on a vanilla Coke, I flipped through a travel brochure of Roanoke and the surrounding environs I took from the hotel lobby. Scenic pictures of the Blue Ridge Mountains were plastered across the pages along with photos of Civil War reenactors sweating through their period imperfect garb. What I was doing was torturing myself. There was no way I was going to see much in Roanoke besides the Waffle House which is like saying I went to Rome and only saw the Sistine Chapel. Not bad at all but I was still going to miss out.

I was scheduled to speak at a high school all damn day in Lynchburg which is an hour from Roanoke. When I say all damn day, I mean all damn day. I was scheduled to do 6 presentations for the students, 1 professional development for teachers and a parent presentation in the evening. I estimated that after driving back, I’d be in my hotel by 10 to wake up at 4 for a 5:45am flight home.

The student presentations were back-to-back-to-back etc. They went well, the teachers were awesome and I had a 2-hour window before the parent night. I was running on less than fumes. I was running on the fumes of fumes. If I didn’t stop moving I would crash. I’m like a shark that way; a small, slow shark that can’t swim. I did a quick search of the area on my phone. Lynchburg has a historical district but nothing was popping until Appomattox showed up on a “Things to do” list.

Appomattox is where the Confederacy surrendered to Union troops, thus ending the Civil War. Google Maps estimated a 30-minute drive that would leave me just enough time to sneak in a tour, grab a brochure, and get back for my parent night presentation. I debated on whether this was a wise move for a couple minutes then decided I really like visiting places where white supremacists ate shit so into the KIA I went.

McLean House

The western part of Virginia is picturesque as all get out. You got rolling hills, big rivers, forests, etc. I made it to Appomattox in good time and had 20 minutes before the whole place closed. I thought Lee surrendered in the Appomattox Courthouse but he actually signed the terms in the nearby McLean House. The National Park folks at the visitor center told me, “If you hightail it now, you’ll be able to get into the last tour” and hightail it I did. The cool part of traveling by yourself is you get to creep out families by appearing out of nowhere and glomming onto their previously private tour. The tour guide mentioned a few things about the house but really, all anyone wants to see is the living room were the Confederacy gave up the ghost.

Most of the original furniture has been lost or placed behind glass in other museums. Our guide spoke at length about the desk that the surrender was signed on was given to General Custer. After Custer got iced in Little Bighorn his wife BROKE IT INTO PIECES. She sent those shards to politicians who she hoped would bring back honor to the disgraced general. Long story short: Fuck the Custers.

Back on the road in my trusty KIA I had enough time to stop at the most adorable convenience store I ever did see (had enough wood paneling to cover 3 Wisconsin basements) and got down with their 2 for 1 Frappuccinos.

Fully caffeinated, I returned triumphantly to the school ready to face the Parent Night Event. As I walked down the hallway towards the room reserved for the presentation, the air became thick with paint fumes. Imagine if you decided to spray paint your closet with the door closed. Nobody told the maintenance crew about the event and they had started a heavy-duty paint job complete with scaffolding, tarps, and masks. I turned to see the woman organizing the event walking down the hallway looking just as confused as I was. She took a look and said, “Well this won’t do. I guess you’re free.” I stifled a scream of joy and feigned disappointment to the best of my ability.

The sun was setting and the temperature was taking a dive. I drove back to Roanoke with only one thing on my mind: the Texas Tavern. As you could probably tell by my Waffle House boner, I love me some greasy food. The biggest treat on family road trips was a truck stop cheeseburger. Food just tastes better when served by a disgruntled waitress who could pass for 25 or 45 depending on the time of day.

I cruised the streets of downtown Roanoke looking for a parking space. Most places were closed but it struck me as surprisingly hip. There were a lot of art studios with overpriced watercolors, decoratively lit walking paths, and I guess there’s a pinball museum but I goofed on that one. I  assume this is the Farmers Market/brunch capital of the city.

 

THE Texas Tavern

The Texas Tavern is a 10-seat diner (“We seat 1,000 people, 10 at a time”) that has the appropriate neon to non-neon light ratio. It’s a 24-hour joint popular with the closing time crowd. I’m not implying you have to be drunk to eat here. I was stone cold sober and if I lived in Roanoke I’d triple up on my cholesterol meds because I’d be eating here for every meal.

I was the only customer there. The waiter/cook/manager was a 20-year-old kid who looked like he had seen some shit. He took my order and went to work. The interior looked like it hadn’t changed much since the 20’s. It was dinged up, a little run down in places but not dirty. I eyed the chili selection. A teacher in Lynchburg told me how to order a special kind of chili, complete with a diagram and code words. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I don’t fuck with chili. Also, I’d be on a plane in a few hours and the last thing someone needs on a 5:45 am flight is a neighbor who smells like he’s rotting from the inside out.

 I ordered a Coney Dog, a hamburger and a Coke. The burger and dog were only $1.25 each. Nothing on the menu is over $3. The dog was full sized and decent. If you want a Chicago style dog you’ll be disappointed but I’m not an asshole that thinks Chicago does everything right so I was pleased. The burger was a thing of beauty. It was on the smaller side, bigger than a slider but smaller than a regular patty. It was neither grass fed nor Kobe beef but I gave no shits because it was the best burger I had ever eaten.

Texas Tavern Interior

To show my love for the Texas Tavern I French kissed the cook. Not really, but I did buy a t-shirt which is the ultimate declaration of my love for a dining establishment. I lingered long enough to chat up the cook who I’m pretty sure assumed I was an undercover cop trying to bust him for selling weed out the walk up window. Looking back, I probably could’ve worked that into a free burger.

I attempted to walk around but it was cold. Plus the only site I saw was a tribute to Robert E. Lee. I thought about showing it my pics from Appomattox to see if it looked familiar but I couldn’t feel my fingers so back to my car. Side Note: After the white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, this same statue was tagged up with anti-Confederate sentiments so score another point for Roanoke.

I drove back to my hotel to catch my 3-4 hours of sleep. As I pulled into the lot, I could feel the Waffle House lights pulling me back like tractor beams. I stepped out of my car and waved my Texas Tavern shirt to which the Waffle House nodded in respect. Game recognize game.

Would I Go Back?

If I was like Elvis and had access to a private jet, I could see myself flying into Roanoke specifically to eat at Texas Tavern then flying home. Until that happens, I wouldn’t go out of my way to get there. It is a cool little city but not super convenient. You have to drive out of your way to get there but if you are road tripping through the south, it warrants a stop. If you like nature stuff, you’d like it more.