Don't go to Rome! And don't, absolutely don't make Homemade Root Beer.

Acutally, I mean Rome, Georgia. I had to drive there this morning for a training I was assisting in. The training was pretty boring. My part essentially is to click the mouse button every couple of minutes when it's time to advance the Power Point presentation. I do have to answer questions once in while, on the rare occasion that I actually know something that the presenter doesn't, which isn't often.

Anyway, I'm not suggesting that you not go to Rome because I was bored during training. If that were the case then I'd have to suggest you not go to just about every major city in Georgia, and I like Georgia. No, I think you should avoid Rome because the civil engineers that designed the roads were clearly demented. They were deranged and they took deranged pleasure in five way intersections, and three way intersections, and roads that turn off into no where.

And so you know, should you ever decide to go to Rome, against my instructions, Highway 411 is ubiquitous. It does not go straight and it does not follow any pattern of logic. Even on Map Quest it forks like 4 times. But Map Quest is outdated. 411 has metasticized. I turned off of Interstate 75 and onto what I think was State Road 20. Shortly thereafter I saw the sign to exit right onto 411, the road I thought I wanted, and under that was the word: ROME. I took it. But where Map Quest said it went straight it curved, and where Map Quest said it curved it went straight. And where Map Quest said it would take me within one turn of my destination 411 decided it would take me within one turn of my sanity. After I was on 411 for about ten minutes I saw another exit for ROME, but it also had the street name 411 under it. This is not unusual for the south, as we tend to develope around old rural road systems and old roads get chopped up and twisted. But even I, having lived in the south my whole life, could not explain this road. I exited off of it three more times, each time exiting back onto a road by the same name. Then, on my way home, I took a different route so as to avoid the confusion of 411. I hadn't been driving for five minutes when I was on 411 again.

But don't let me give you the idea that 411 was the only odd road out there. I actually went down one road that looked like a two lane divided highway. It looked like that because that's what it was. So I'm driving in the left lane on the right side of the divide when all of a sudden, honest to God, out of nowhere, a double yellow line appears on my right. I'm suddenly driving down the wrong lane! I look ahead and see a car coming. Naturally I moved over to the right lane-I was never in any danger as the road was not heavily traveled-and I looked to the left side of the divide and saw a tiny "road closed" sign. Well that would have been a bit more helpful when the road actually divided!

I arrived in Rome at 7:45am, and I had to be at my training at 8:30am. I walked through the doors of the training room at 8:45. It took me a full hour to finally find my way through the maze of roads.

And don't think that the locals understand it either. As best I can tell they have resigned themselves to living in Dante's Highway Inferno. After I had been in the city for a half hour without any reasonable sign of the street I needed I pulled over and asked for directions. I went into a temp agency because I assumed that the people that worked there would be relatively familiar with the area. I walked right in and told the lady that I was late for a meeting, and did she know where this building was and how I could get there. And she said with narry a sign of confidence:

"Um... heh heh... I know where it is... it's... well... you want to take... you know this light right out there... take a left on it... perhaps I need to draw you a map... well... that might not help... see, you want to take a left out there... do you have any paper... take a left at the light then at the next light a right... and then... well... after you take a right you're gonna go for a while... and then... maybe I should just draw the map... do you know where the Braves stadium is... take a left at this light right out here... take a right at the next one... then you go until you see a new apartment complex high on a hill... take a left at the light just before that... then you go for a while and you will see the Braves stadium on your right and a Fuddruckers on your left... it's right there."

Believe it or not that seemed pretty easy for me. After I filtered out all of the crap it seemed there were only three turns. I could remember that. And for added measure, the guy in the office with us nodded and said, "Yep."

I followed their directions. I even knew where to turn when I saw the apartments atop the hill. Then I came to a Braves stadium, which must be a minor league stadium or perhaps an exhibition field for the major league team, and across the street was the Fuddruckers. But what was missing?

Everything! There was nothing there! There was an empty field by the stadium which was clearly set aside for parking, and beside the Fuddruckers was a forest. On the only other street corner stood a vacant building with a For Rent sign on it. I drove down three possible paths before finally finding the office which was a good half mile from Fuddruckers.

DON'T GO TO ROME.

And if you are ever considering trying to brew your own Root Beer... DON'T.

I found this little website that offers a very easy recipe for Root Beer, and so I thought I would try it. It seems uber-easy. Take a 2 liter bottle. Pour in a cup of sugar. Pour in 1/8 teaspoon of yeast. Pour in a tablespoon of Root Beer Extract. Then pour in water. Swirl around until dissolved. Fill bottle to within 1 inch of top with tap water, tightly put the cap on, and set in a warm, dry place for two to three days. After that refrigerate for at least 24 hours and serve.

Well I couldn't find Root Beer Extract anywhere. What I did find was butterscotch extract. So I gave it a whirl. I don't see how it would have made a difference. It seems to me the only thing I did was alter the flavor. Nothing more.

Well maybe I'm wrong, but Dear God, don't try this at home kids! This evening, after braving the streets of Rome, I pulled safely into my driveway craving a yummy carbonated Butterscotch soda. I twisted open the top and it fizzed to life. I was excited. I poured a glass and it fizzed a bit less than I had hoped, but it did fizz. Then I put my nose up to the rim of the glass and wiffed what can only be described as liquid hell. It was bilious. It smelled like vomit on the rocks. But I was determined to give it a shot. I mean, what if it tasted better than it smelled?

Yay! It did taste better than it smelled! It did not taste good, but it tasted better. I think the best discription of it is Rotten Oranges. Moldy rotten oranges. I poured it out. I couldn't even bring myself to swallow a single swallow. Oh Lord, please let me not have poisoned myself.