No, its not Vegas, not anywhere in Florida, or even Reno. The hands down, no arguments, tackiest place on earth is South of the Border, South Carolina.
O.K. if this picture doesn’t say it all lets look a little closer.
Once you are within 20 miles, north or south, of South of the Border, you will be treated to one billboard every mile. When you get within ten miles, there is a billboard every half mile. The closer you get, the closer together the signs; it’s the billboard version of an overbearing used car salesman.
As far as I can tell this town began as a border stop for North Carolinians to buy contraband fireworks. Then, some time around 1952, a plastic flamingo mated with a sombrero and Ta-Da! a thriving metropolis was born.
I may, or may not, have bought a brick of firecrackers, bottle rockets, and a bumper sticker. I was just passing through. I have no idea what these folks were doing there.
As you leave the town, billboards berate you for going. It’s the type of place where you feel like you are supposed to have light blue polyester pants and a comb-over.
I’m still wondering what the Ferrari was doing.