Road trip to Dallas on Sunday night. Mom and I took our semi-annual pilgrimage to the Dallas Trade Mart to find retail goodies for her church bookstore (there's always the edge of the thought that it might also be my store someday--or weirder, that I might end up working at First Baptist across the street). It's always fun, I enjoy the trip, get a sneak preview of the christmas lights and gifties for the next year, make fun of the wacky clothing all the women wear, try not to stare at the cute sales guys (I should try dressing up a bit some year, just for fun, show floor sales reps must be one of the only groups with a higher percentage of gay males than furries), and help mom out a bit.
Aaanyway, we took my shiney new Garmin satellite navigation thingie with us, and round about 70 miles into the drive, mom decided we should stop for coffee. Not knowing the area enough to find a good local coffee shop, I told the device to look for "Starbucks."
After a LONG search, it told me there was one three miles ahead.
A mile later, we took the exit for it, as per the melifluous female voice's request.
After a bit, the countdown started--a half-mile to coffee, a tenth of a mile, 500 feet, 200 feet, 100 feet, 50 feet, at destination.
Off to our right, there was a scary-looking establishment called, "Bar Strucks."
I'm not really sure how we came to that destination.