Welcome to Plunkett, Virginia
The happiest Weird Place on Earth!
I have a setting for a Monster of the Week tabletop role playing game based on the city of Winchester, Virginia that I created when homesick. Below is a fictional piece on the fictional town.
BlakeCo Industries has been dabbling in the tourism industry, Since we can’t legally host tours at the BlakeCo HQ or the processing plants due to them being described by our legal team as “What is Upton Sinclair described Willy Wonka’s Factory”, we’ve instead hired a lifestyle columnist, Joseph Pachimaw, to do a piece on a town executives at BlakeCo Industries developed an interest in; Plunkett, Virginia.
Off The Beaten Path
As I stepped off the bus, the fall air had a crisp, leafy smell I thought was gone from small town America. The skyline is sparse, the tallest building standing at five stories while most of the city of Downtown Plunkett maxes out at three stories. But the view benefits from the modest skyline, as you can see the azure edges of the Appalachian Mountain Ridge in the distance. I stuff my hands in my pockets and watch my breath float off in the evening air, the chill almost comfortable as I wait for my ride. Plunkett is too small for any ride share companies to make any headway, so I wait for Ray’s Taxi Service at the bus station. Just as I began to consider calling to confirm I had the right time and location a Ford Pickup plucked from the 80’s rolled up and the driver waved enthusiactically for me to get in. I crossed my fingers this wouldn’t make me a story on a true crime podcast.
Stepping into the warm cab, a man in his thirties with a day’s worth of stubble and intense green eyes, orange stocking cap on his head like an exclamation point against his camouflage shirt and dark blue coveralls extends his hand. He introduces himself as Ray, same as Ray’s taxi yes I own my own business, no big deal. I barely get the door shut before he’s moving, taking corners and dark gravel roads at an unnerving pace. Ray talks non stop about many topics: why he’s using his personal truck and not the usual vehicle, the best places to eat in town, how great it is to have me visit, do I have any family, will he become famous, and many other statements I simply missed due to his machine gun fire questioning. By the time he drops me off at the Mountain View Inn I know about his extended family and how he wants his son to get serious about football.
Meeting The Locals
The next day calls for strong coffee and a hearty breakfast. I walk to the highly recommended Plunkett Diner & Drive Thru, colloquially called ‘The Drive Thru”, ironic as the drive through portion had been closed for nearly a decade. Entering the diner is stepping into one of my parents’ Polaroids. Fire engine red Formica countertops and peeling plastic tabletops catch my eye upon entry. My gaze floats across the scene spying faded wallpaper coated with framed posters. The posters have no theme, and contain black and white celebrity photos, nature photgraphs, and pictures of the town decades ago.
Before I can check the menu Plunkett’s top celebrity, Margaret Sanderson, is at my side and ready to take my order. Insisting I call her “Margie” like everyone else in town, Margie correctly assumes I want a coffee before listing off food options that are not within my metropolitan diet. I inquire about quinoa but Margie clucks her tongue before lightly admonishing me. “If you want a proper breakfast, I’d say the Breakfast Bonanza is the way to go hon! Half price for a new face!” A wink and she’s placing the order before I can object. After a surprisingly short wait I am presented by what looks like a meal made for television. But I can’t bring myself to argue with Margie, she’s too kind about the whole thing. The food is incredible. Fluffy scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, a cup of cinnamon flavored oatmeal, thick bacon slices, and a grapefruit half with a sizeable mug of piping hot delicious coffee. After eating what I could Margie appears with a carry out box. I thank her, take my remaining food, and walk into the city of Old Town Plunkett.
Seeing The Sights
Old Town Plunkett has an air of quaint small town with flairs of modern capitalism peeking through. There is a tea shop with the cute name of “Capital T-Shop” built next to a small scale Italian restaurant, Romana’s eatery, which is built next to a small courtyard designed for live music or festival events. The entire area is dotted with ATMs, a somewhat anachronistic sight against the cobblestones and colonial decor. The weekend is when Old Town Plunkett comes to life. Couples walk by holding hands, packs of teens roll by on skateboards, bikes, and roller blades, while a trio of old men sit on a bench and feed birds while laughing together. The general tone of the city of Plunkett is calm and put together. Yet there’s a feeling of something hiding from plain sight whereever I go. I feel watched, so I turn and a shadow seems to vanish just a second too slow to avoid my eyes. But the town is nice, just an odd feeling I can’t seem to shake. Must be that city living trying to adjust to small towns.
Another key to Plunkett’s charm are the tourist spots and recreational activities you can enjoy here. There’s Dino Acres an interesting but somewhat tacky outdoor “museum” of plaster dinaosaur statues. The employee, through the haze of marijuana, insists they move at night. I was also fortunate to see the hiking trails connected to. Plunkett Park. Plunkett Park is one of the largest parks in the Northern Virginia region, and it hosts a disc golf course called Disc Golftopia. The clunky name aside, the course boasts a clever layout and is well maintained. While speaking with an employee at Disc Golftopia whose name tag read “Party Dave” I was informed of the best local bar to meet longtime residents, The Forest.
Getting a Proper Drink
The Forest is named for the acre of trees that were cleared to build the ale house early in Plunkett’s founding. A sturdy brick building with little to no design flair stands brightly lit against an inky black sky. A pair of leather jacket clad older men eye me as I push the heavy door aside and enter a warm, well lit tavern.
You couldn’t make a call who the bar was for looking at the clientele. Middle aged farmers sit at the bar shoulder to shoulder with hoodie clad college students and people dressed like they’re extras in the Blade movies. The smell of cooked meat fills the air as Donna Summer spills out of the jukebox in the corner. The decor looks as if they used the lumber from the felled trees to build the bar, which one co-owner, Lonnie Harmon, explains is fact as she knocks back a gin and tonic. When I ask about the strange arrangement of furniture, specifically the two pool tables placed across the tavern from each other, Lonnie says “That’s Denton’s thing. He loves Feng shui.”
It seems hard to believe that Denton Carroll, Lonnie’s co-owner and ex-husband, is into Feng shui. He’s the first person I’ve met in Plunkett who isn’t small town friendly. His stained mechanic shirt and calloused hands suggest he works on cars in his free time, but when I ask about what’s he’s been working on he grunts a reply about “bein’ a handyman” before actively avoiding eye contact. As I nurse my lager, diet be damned, I pepper Denton with questions but Lonnie answers them. I’m grateful, as Lonnie is verbose and provides a wonderful story with each answer, but I can’t help but wonder how this co-owner answering would go if a member of the police were to question Denton about a crime. I don’t press anything that Denton lets Lonnie answer; I see it as part of that small town charm that seems to spill out of Plunkett with ease.
The interview is nearly cut short when a trio of kids, most likely students with Plunkett Community College, burst into the door shouting for Denton. In the blink of an eye Denton is out from the bar and at their side, whispering back and forth while glancing in my direction occasionally. The din of the bar doesn’t change, and when I ask Lonnie if this is a normal occurrence she smirks. “Plunkett’s a sweet place to live, but also strange at times. I suppose most places are, like my cousin Debbie? She works down in Phoenix-” as Lonnie continues I chalk her comment up to working on her third gin and tonic, but I can’t shake the feeling that something was being kept from me. Especially when Denton went to his office, brought the trio a gnarled wooden staff, then locked the door behind them after they left. I asked Denton about the trio but he shrugged and grunted “Pranks, kids do pranks. Hang here fer 20 minutes.”
After half an hour Denton unlocked the front door and called Ray to take me to my motel. Ray, now driving a marked bright yellow Subaru Forester, was markedly quieter than our first encounter. I didn’t mind, it gave me time to ponder what happened at The Forest. It fell away from my mind as an outlier to an unexpectedly nice small town vacation. I picked up some local made jam for my partner, got a lifetime Plunkett resident’s take on the town, and finally shook any strange feelings I had.
To wrap up the article, I would absolutely recommend visiting Plunkett, Virginia for a weekend getaway. I was fortunate enough to see the leaves changing, but I plan to return next summer to explore the massive park and see some of the festivals Plunkett hosts every season. And if you stop by The Forest, let Lonnie and Denton know that Joe’s thinking of them!