Most of these irreverent (and frequently incomprehensible) signs feature the same extravagantly stereotypical sombrero & poncho wearing Mexican bandido cartoon character . . . and with each billboard, we are brought more fully into the world of Pedro.
The miles tick on, the strings of the trap tighten, and unwary travelers find themselves - almost as if driven by an unnatural force - pulling off at the first exit beyond the borders of North Carolina.
The Place: South of the Border.
The Purpose: To redefine the meaning of "multi-colored roadside hell."
The happiest place on earth this is not.
I mean, I've been in half-century old Southeast Asian bathrooms with more general appeal (and fewer insects) than SOB (the acronym for the town, as featured on the nearby water tower). Far from the slightly racist, kitschy, and kid-catching cartoon character the signs make him out to be, Pedro is more a modern day Virgil, guiding you carefully through various creative and fiery tortures before finally setting you lose to claw your way back to purgatory (i.e., the rest of South Carolina? Not sure about that analogy, but I'm sticking with it just to give Dante a well-deserved shout out).
Beginning life as a beer stand in 1950, SOB once had enough tourist-trap energy to power its own police and fire department. It's been a part of I-95 road trip lore for ages ... trapping and tricking tourists with its large contingent of ill-spirited plastic poltergeists.
How many people have been permanently scarred by over-exposure, we may never know (and the body count keeps rising). At the very least, though, we can number Ben Bernanke among them. Though he is now Chairman of the Fed, ol' Ben worked there one summer as a poncho-wearing waiter to help pay his way through Harvard.
From what I've been told, he's still working it out in therapy.
Having been to SOB and having unwisely partaken of its unrecognizable "foods,"* I fear that I may be required - as was Persephone - to return each year and pay penance for the only truly unfortunate decision of Legendary Florida Road Trip '09 (look for more on that later).
But regardless of what happens to me, it's not too late for you. So please ... heed the warning of one who has been down that road ... stay away, my friends, and always beware the wicked face of the Smiling Bandido.**
* Think "meat" smothered in fifty year old nacho cheese ...
** Legal Disclaimer: Consider yourself warned. If after reading this post, you still decide to stop, I cannot be held accountable for the consequences (i.e., subsequent recurring nightmares and medical bills).
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