I don't think that you can really understand American culture until and unless you've been to a drive in. Right now it is 12:32, and my son is still not asleep, b/c we went to see Over the Hedge at the Georgetown Drive In. On the way, we went to pick up some beer. It was a travail. Zule had to go to a "tavern" to buy a six pack "to go" b/c the alcohol laws in Floyd County Indiana do not allow people to buy beer from a store. Best part of that:
Zule: Do you take credit cards?
Bartender: I guess if I have to. *suspicious look*.
We get to the drive in and found a great spot. Sweatone immediately demanded ice cream, even though we had enough candy in our car to feed an army. I like to watch people, and the drive in is a great location to do so b/c of the whole "car" thing. In the car, we are not to be disturbed. Windows down, three feet from another car, it does not matter, its like there is an invisible forcefield between all of us. And that translates to the drive in in a really interesting way.
I think I saw one of my cousins up there, the one that lost her kids due to drugs, but I did not ask "are you N***?" for two reasons. 1) I'd feel sad b/c I miss her being about 7 and adorable and 2) I'm really out of touch with the majority of my first cousins.
I bought Sweatone a glowing necklace. He loved it.