15 minutes too late...

So I'm coming to you live from McDonalds, an empty sundae in front of me and a piping hot apple pie currently finding it's way to Brian's gullet. Just arrived in Lockhart, Barbecue Mecca, about 15 minutes too late for any 'cue.

Still, the smoke lingers. Outside a McDonald's, across from a Taco Bell, the smell of charcoal hangs thick. I think you might end up smelling like you went camping if you stand out on a Lockhart street corner for an hour or so. We've seen at least four barbecue restaurants already -- in a town of 11,000 -- and it's dark.

Anyway, today was our lazy day, progress-wise. We only went about 200 miles towards our destination, the rest of the drive time spent traveling to and fro in the vicinity of World Famous Waco, Playground of the Stars.

First stop was the Branch Davidian compound outside town. I, but not Brian, have vivid memories of the siege from back when I first got interested in news/politics/etc. It was interesting to see in person. Smaller than it looked on TV, like everything, and a bit creepy. The Davidians still own the land, have a new church, a small unmanned visitors building, some granite monuments and what appears to be a small commune of trailers parked behind the foundation of the old facility.

I don't know enough to know how much fault the young Clinton administration had in the matter, and how much in was unavoidable, but the folks who run it now put the blame on both. There's a plaque honoring the four fallen ATF agents killed in the initial assault and the brochures express the belief that Koresh was a misguided man who died as part of a prophecy. They seem to have forgiven the go'ment, makes them seem reasonable enough, then again...

We spent an hour or so at the compound, looking at the memorials and exploring what's left of the burned compound.

Eventually we made our way back down the long dirt road, back toward civilization. Next stop was the Dr (no period) Pepper museum where we learned all sorts of interesting facts about what Brian calls The Most American Pop and tasted the good stuff, Dublin Dr Pepper.

Yes, the Dr Pepper you know and love is not the real deal. It's not made with pure cane sugar, as the original recipe calls for, and isn't quite as peppery. They have the original recipe all over down here, as well as the standard fit-for-national-distribution variety, side by side in the soda spickets.

So then there was the President's ranch in Crawford. That's more of a Brian story.

After the ranch escapade we stopped for some 'cue in one of Crawford's two eateries, a gas station/restaurant/grocery that makes it's own beef brisket. It was incredible. The guy who ran the place makes it himself, and the girl who works there makes homemade hot sauce (salsa) and both are truly fantastic. Sadly, a lot better than the 'cue in Clinton's hometown of Hope, Ark.

Hope makes better presidents though.