Waynesville, Ohio: Where the Downtown Hustle Meets Maple Leaves (I Accidentally Drank My Third Coffee…)
imagine this - you’re staring at a weather app that reads 12.57°c but feels like 12.39°c because of the humidity. yep, that’s waynesville. i’m sitting on a bench near shepard’s fountain, the kind of old dude who regrets his life choices but still waves at squirrels. the air smells like wet grass and gas station chihuahuas. i wore too many layers. i also forgot what i was here to photograph. mostly leaves. autumn always betrays me. the leaves here? crisp and orange and falling like confetti. but it’s also the kind of day where you question if the ground’s just wet cement. “sorry”, earth. “sorry”, trees.
Anyway, the neighbor-old bill who’s 90% picket fence and 10% grumpiness-yelled at a raccoon last week. not even mine. cool guy. he’s got a hose that sprays like it’s auditioning for a fireworks show. I’ve heard that waynesville’s best kept secret is the gas station burrito. not reviewed on tripadvisor, obviously. there’s a guy who’s like, “if you’re looking for new reviews, check the dumpster at midnight.” that’s me. I’m in the dumpster.
seriously though, they’ve got a little thrift store with mannequins that whisper punches. “buy me, bro,” one said. it’s got a mirror and a pile of listless teenagers who think Waynesville is a verb. “go somewhere,” they chanted. I took notes. also, someone told me the diner downtown serves “detroit-style pizza” which is just a square incarnabun with extra cheese. Yelp says “meh” but the guy who owns it is literally a robot. he’s getting parts from walmart.
pro-tips: roadside stands sell pickles from jars labeled “for cultural studies”. locals say they’re pickled in regret. also, don’t trust the deer. they’ve got mini cameras on their heads. don’t believe me? try walking past graves mountain without hearing the click ones.
map time. here’s where I am rn. don’t get lost. just follow the smell of chipotle mayo and existential dread. oh! fun fact: waynesville’s zillow scores are lower than its humidity. doesn’t matter. i’m too busy staring at the creek to care. ⚴⚴⚴
(images description: map iframe embedded, three waynesville photos from unsplash showing leaves, a weirdly happy squirrel, and a coffee shop that’s probably haunted)
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