South of the Border

South of the Border started small. In the late 1940s a man named Alan Schafer opened a modest beer stand at this spot on the state line, taking advantage of the fact that neighboring counties across the border were dry. From that humble beginning he expanded steadily, adding a motel, restaurants, gas, and gift shops, and wrapping the whole enterprise in a lighthearted Mexican theme, complete with the mascot Pedro.

When Interstate 95 was built through the area, it turned the little stop into a natural break point on the great East Coast highway, roughly halfway between New York and Miami. Schafer became famous for his marketing, blanketing the interstate for miles in each direction with a countdown of corny, pun-filled billboards that made stopping feel almost inevitable. Over the decades the complex kept growing into the sprawling roadside city it is today.

The signature landmark is the Sombrero Tower, a tall observation tower rising some 200 feet with a giant neon sombrero perched on top and an observation deck beneath it. From up there, travelers get a wide view over the flat Pee Dee farmland and the ribbon of interstate stretching to the horizon in both directions. At its base and all around the grounds stand statues, arches, and figures of Pedro in every size, most spectacular of all after dark when the whole place blazes with neon.

Beyond the tower, the complex holds gift shops crammed with souvenirs, eateries, an amusement area with rides, and all manner of oddball roadside spectacle. It is a place built to be photographed, a riot of color and kitsch that captures a particular exuberant era of American highway culture that has largely vanished elsewhere.

There is no getting around the fact that South of the Border's theme rests on broad Mexican caricature, from the mascot's exaggerated accent in the old billboards to the stereotyped imagery throughout the grounds. What read as harmless fun to many travelers in the mid-twentieth century strikes many modern visitors as dated and insensitive, and the attraction has drawn thoughtful criticism on those grounds.

At the same time, it survives as a genuine artifact of a bygone roadside America, a time capsule of the era when a long car trip meant billboards, neon, and quirky stops rather than identical exits. Many people visit precisely because it is a living relic of that vanished culture, aware of its awkward legacy yet drawn to its unrepentant, larger-than-life charm.

For most travelers, South of the Border is exactly what it has always been, a place to fuel up, stretch, grab a bite, and snap a photo beside Pedro before getting back on the road. Sitting right at the North Carolina line on I-95, it remains an easy and logical break on one of the busiest drives in the country, whether you are heading to the beaches of the Carolinas or on toward Florida.

It is a year-round stop, though the neon is at its best after dark and the flat Pee Dee country around it can be brutally hot in high summer. Whatever season you pass through, pulling off here for a few minutes is a small tradition shared by countless road-trippers over the decades, a bit of camp and color in the middle of a long haul.

The closest Boutel™ stays, so you can turn this stop into an overnight. Each is an independently owned, editorially selected place to stay.