Sunday, June 05, 2005
TGIF and off to Wade and Biloxi
So on Friday, Eric and I packed up our gear at the Garden District Hotel and drove to where he'd ended the ride. I went on my merry way and tried to find a library in Pascagoula, Louisiana. Turns out I wasn't even in Pascagoula, but Moss Point. I went to a Wal-Mart there, and if you're noticing a pattern, I think you're right. Wal-Marts are everywhere and when a girl needs licorice while traveling cross-country, sometimes there are few options. Anyway, so I popped into the Moss Point Wal-Mart and asked the greeter where the library was and she didn't know so I went about my shopping (licorice, bananas, miscellaneous tzotchkes) and then asked the checkout girl. She gave me some interesting directions, which included a lot of "go thisaway" and "go thataway when you get to the red light." I discovered, or rather got corroboration on, a suspicion. It appears that a "red light" simply means a "traffic light" (which, to my mind, could very well be green or yellow). In Louisiana, Eric and I heard the expression "feeder," which means frontage road. All kinds of new terms I'm learning. So anyway, I tried to follow the girl's directions and got as lost as I could tolerate (but I did get a nice tour of Moss Point) and then I worked my way back to where I started and tried to get back on Highway 63. To do that, I had to stop at a gas station, where I bought a piece of grape bubble gum and used the restroom. The gas station has a bhudda altar and was brand new. I asked another man in line where the highway was and he said "you can't miss it." He had no idea the kind of driving luck I'd had the previous days.
I didn't miss it, so that was good. I drove straight to where I was supposed to pick Eric up, having not gotten to a library, so my mood was a bit sour. I thought I would maybe come across something on Highway 63, but I am telling you, there is essentially nothing on Highway 63 between Moss Point and Wade, Mississippi. So, I got the Chevron in Wade, got a coffee, lugged my backpack to a table, and got started on sitting for two hours. I wrote several postcards, looked through my planner, looked at the customers, and wondered when Eric would arrive. I kept thinking I should bust out my laptop and work on an abstract I needed to email that day, but I thought that might make me look even more out of place than I already did. So I just sat there, sipping away at my coffee. I ended up really enjoying my hours there because I overheard lots of neat covnersation by the men sitting behind me. Seems the Chevron, which is also a Subway, Krispy Kreme, fried chicken place, and pizza shop, is a local hub and gossip station. A table of middle-aged women met up for lunch there and were sitting in the booth in front of me and the fire chief (or just a fireman) and some cops and other local officials were sitting in the two booths behind me. The firechief seemed to be in the know about everything going on around Wade area and I gathered that his wife was quite impressed with the house one of her friends' husbands had built on a three-acre lot in the vicinity, and then the firechief's wife let him know all about it. Also, it appeared that one of the police men who drove up was in a car that had a different number on it than the men were used to seeing him drive, and that produced some discussion. Another man who sat with them was griping about what had just happened at the bank, where the lady there had given him some crazy wrong information about a loan, a consrtuction loan of some kind, about which he was not happy at all and he was going to go back and speak to someone else. About this time, Eric was I assumed a half-hour out still, so I asked where the post office was and it was about three miles into Wade, so I drove there. Turns out the post office is closed on Fridays between 12:30 and 1:00. So if you're in Wade on a Friday at that time and need to mail some letters, keep that in mind.
Eric called while I was at the post office, so I went back and met him. I guessed that upon seeing Eric and I together, the people at the Wade Chevron probably figured out why the out-of-place-looking gal (me) had been sitting there for so long.
Eric and I drove from there to Biloxi and checked into a Best Western across from the Beau Rivage Casino. The Beau Rivage is awesome, in that word's real meaning. We walked around Biloxi, went to the marina, walked through a public park in which they were having a Race for the Cure relay in the heat of the late afternoon, and then went back to the Best Western and floated around in the pool. And then I finished and mailed my abstract. Then we went over to the Beau Rivage. I thought I could replicate my $31.00 success from the Paragron in Louisiana. But no. After spending $8.00 at the Beau Rivage, I gave up. The real highlight of that evening was the buffet at the Beau Rivage. I am not kidding. You have never seen anything like this in your life, unless you've been there. The reason why Americans eat so much is no secret. There were fifty feet of desserts. This was the Land of Plenty configured as an all-you-can-eat buffet. American Opportunity means you can gorge yourself on an inexhaustible supply of cocktail shrimp. They had sushi, crab legs, every kind of meat and fried thing imaginable, Chinese food, soups, breads, fruit, a chocolate fountain, grilled fish, and I cannot even remember what else. And complimentary drinks -- beer, wine, daquiries. I tell you, it was intense. The decadence was gross . . . enjoyable and happy-making, but still kind of gross. There were actually all kinds of people in this casino/hotel -- thin and fat, hip and dowdy, old and young, people at weddings and retirees whiling away the time, happy-looking and frustrated-looking. We saw a lot of women wearing what seemed requisite casino attire: tight long jeans and high heels. Actually, come to reflect on it, most people looked happy. I think Eric and I looked happy. We were even happy when we left $8.00 the poorer.
I didn't miss it, so that was good. I drove straight to where I was supposed to pick Eric up, having not gotten to a library, so my mood was a bit sour. I thought I would maybe come across something on Highway 63, but I am telling you, there is essentially nothing on Highway 63 between Moss Point and Wade, Mississippi. So, I got the Chevron in Wade, got a coffee, lugged my backpack to a table, and got started on sitting for two hours. I wrote several postcards, looked through my planner, looked at the customers, and wondered when Eric would arrive. I kept thinking I should bust out my laptop and work on an abstract I needed to email that day, but I thought that might make me look even more out of place than I already did. So I just sat there, sipping away at my coffee. I ended up really enjoying my hours there because I overheard lots of neat covnersation by the men sitting behind me. Seems the Chevron, which is also a Subway, Krispy Kreme, fried chicken place, and pizza shop, is a local hub and gossip station. A table of middle-aged women met up for lunch there and were sitting in the booth in front of me and the fire chief (or just a fireman) and some cops and other local officials were sitting in the two booths behind me. The firechief seemed to be in the know about everything going on around Wade area and I gathered that his wife was quite impressed with the house one of her friends' husbands had built on a three-acre lot in the vicinity, and then the firechief's wife let him know all about it. Also, it appeared that one of the police men who drove up was in a car that had a different number on it than the men were used to seeing him drive, and that produced some discussion. Another man who sat with them was griping about what had just happened at the bank, where the lady there had given him some crazy wrong information about a loan, a consrtuction loan of some kind, about which he was not happy at all and he was going to go back and speak to someone else. About this time, Eric was I assumed a half-hour out still, so I asked where the post office was and it was about three miles into Wade, so I drove there. Turns out the post office is closed on Fridays between 12:30 and 1:00. So if you're in Wade on a Friday at that time and need to mail some letters, keep that in mind.
Eric called while I was at the post office, so I went back and met him. I guessed that upon seeing Eric and I together, the people at the Wade Chevron probably figured out why the out-of-place-looking gal (me) had been sitting there for so long.
Eric and I drove from there to Biloxi and checked into a Best Western across from the Beau Rivage Casino. The Beau Rivage is awesome, in that word's real meaning. We walked around Biloxi, went to the marina, walked through a public park in which they were having a Race for the Cure relay in the heat of the late afternoon, and then went back to the Best Western and floated around in the pool. And then I finished and mailed my abstract. Then we went over to the Beau Rivage. I thought I could replicate my $31.00 success from the Paragron in Louisiana. But no. After spending $8.00 at the Beau Rivage, I gave up. The real highlight of that evening was the buffet at the Beau Rivage. I am not kidding. You have never seen anything like this in your life, unless you've been there. The reason why Americans eat so much is no secret. There were fifty feet of desserts. This was the Land of Plenty configured as an all-you-can-eat buffet. American Opportunity means you can gorge yourself on an inexhaustible supply of cocktail shrimp. They had sushi, crab legs, every kind of meat and fried thing imaginable, Chinese food, soups, breads, fruit, a chocolate fountain, grilled fish, and I cannot even remember what else. And complimentary drinks -- beer, wine, daquiries. I tell you, it was intense. The decadence was gross . . . enjoyable and happy-making, but still kind of gross. There were actually all kinds of people in this casino/hotel -- thin and fat, hip and dowdy, old and young, people at weddings and retirees whiling away the time, happy-looking and frustrated-looking. We saw a lot of women wearing what seemed requisite casino attire: tight long jeans and high heels. Actually, come to reflect on it, most people looked happy. I think Eric and I looked happy. We were even happy when we left $8.00 the poorer.
# posted by jnewwave @ 11:34 AM 
