Welcome
to installment no. 3 of our travelogue, ShimShaw Redemption, where we take a lengthy trip to Flora, MS to look at several roadside attractions that we'll tell you to avoid or relish. The picture to your left is me, Kris, and I'm holding up some delicous barbecue sauce up from Sonny's Barbecue outside of Jackson. If you look real close, you can see the name of the sauce is "smokin." It's been a hectic two weeks since we last travelled and for me, Jury duty and school have kicked in making the workload twice as dense. I was really ready for some new scenery.
If you remember, Wendy was saddled with researching a new site after our successful jaunt to Baton Rouge to visit the Insomkneeack Pexcho's American Dime Museum and we think she steered us, once again, into a really terrific site. The Mississippi Petrified Forest as described from the brochure, "is privately owned and developed with the primary aim of complete and natural preservation. It was named a Regional National Natural Landmark by the National Park Service in 1966" and we felt they did the park service proud. Check out the website at www.mspetrifiedforest.com. You may, as Wendy was, be under impressed by what was presented webwise, but we felt the Park itself was really done well.
The weather has been bad in the Gulf Region as of late, so Wendy, being ever ready had a few contingency plans in mind, but they weren't necessary as everything went as planned.
Okay, I have to admit right here that when I woke up at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday morning to get ready for our adventure I was not really thrilled. Why you ask? Well, I have a standing Friday night appointment with my octogenarian Sicilian mentor, Mrs. Mussolini. You can't say no to a Sicilian, you know, and, well, I wouldn't want to think of the consequences I'd face saying no to Mrs. Mussolini specifically. So she, my lovely friend Phyllis and I headed out as planned Friday night and, in a word, overindulged. Consequently, my head was not coming off the pillow easily this morning and to wit, it was pouring outside. I tried to get up, but secretly, I was hoping Wendy would call and say, "Eh, Naw. We don't want to do this in this weather."
We planned to start with McDonald's breakfast at 7:30 and I figured I'd wait for her call. When she did call though, as planned she announced brightly, "We're fifteen minutes away and we have breakfast which we'll eat at your place! Do you have coffee?" I told her I would make some or we'd get it at PJ's across the street and I'd be ready. Oi! No turning back now. They are so thoughtful and with the plan in process I started getting ready, totally committed to the day.
So I jumped in my shower, plopped a note on the door telling Steve and Wendy to come in and began getting my act together. Shortly after they arrived and surprised me with a full and nutritious homemade breakfast. Steve decided that WE could do better than McD's and made a terrific frittata with bacon and fresh biscuits! I pulled out jellies and preserves and pressed some African Kituma for us and we had a relaxing and delicious breakfast. I decided at that point that lunch was gonna be on me.
We chatted for a while in an attempt to let every one's plumbing adjust before hitting the car and then off went went. Steve drove, me as shotgun and Wendy in the back. Wendy's son Nick had prepped several eclectic CD's of music for Wendy and they were quite good. Good for Wendy and I, but not altogether considerate of Steve's taste. Again we discussed a seeming lack of consideration for Steve's needs musically, but I think by the 3rd time we travel, we'll have something ready for him.
We hit the road around 9 a.m. into overcast skies and rain. We all crossed our fingers that we'd blast through this mess somewhere north of the city and enjoy some sunshine. Unlike last time, the driving would be between Steve and I because Wendy left her license at home....hmmmm.
This drive was familiar roadside territory for me. During my moms rather lengthy kidney illness, I ran this route up I-55 almost every other week. Being on it was nostalgic and much like going home even though Mum has been gone now for almost eight years. The route is NOLA to Jackson, to Granada, to Memphis to Cape Girardeau. But for us today strictly Jackson. I've included some goofy video of us jamming to Nicks tapes at the end of the blog. Enjoy.
We got to Jackson in the regular time, about two to three hours maybe longer because of the rain. Somewhere around McComb, the sun came out and we all flashed each other knowing smiles feeling like we were gonna blessed with good fortune and would have a good excursion. At Jackson, Wendy and I attempted to give Steve directions to route 20, but instead of following what we knew, we kept guiding him from an incorrectly posted sign for route 20 pointing right instead of left... almost steered Steve the wrong way! Steve just quipped matter of factly, "just don't speak to me." We did feel stupid Steve. But on the ride back we get vindicated....but you have to wait for that.
At this point, you should be seeing a pattern arise where Wendy and her restroom obsession are concerned. If you recall from the last post, I remarked that stressful events seem to correspond with Wendy having to...well "go!" So our nearly steering Steve of course and Steve clipping us about it caused Wendy's plumbing to open up and shortly after that Wendy needed to "pee pee." God was truly with us. The sun was shining and as we pulled off the next exit to find a restroom for Wendy to cross off her list, we passed a restaurant called "Sonny's." Sonny's ! Sonny's was exactly the place we wanted to lunch in after we visited the petrified forest. Steve, still a bit flustered by our botched navigation, suggested clear-headedly that instead of looking for a place to pee, why don't we just eat lunch NOW and use the bathroom there. Agreed and we went to Sonny's.
There's a picture of Sonny's with Wendy and Steve standing very satisfied. It was a barbecue house that Wendy said the web information described as "Yummy!" Well we weren't disappointed; two orders of Ribs, baked beans and cole slaw, a pulled pork sandwich and three sweet "Ahced" teas later we wrapped up a fine meal.
I will say the clientele were different. I was almost thrown out of my chair by a woman who had to be seventy years old and was so "well endowed" that she couldn't fit her breasts at the table. She jammed her chair back and hit me so hard, I didn't know what to do...I was a gentleman of course, but didn't understand why they couldn't move her table forward a bit. When I got up to go, I noticed that she had the largest bahzoingahs I'd seen in a long time. And they were perfect. She had the face of a woman worn with looooong years and the bahzoingahs of a 20 year old....who'd been augmented! Hers couldn't have been real. If you enlarge my picture at the top of the page you'll see what looks like a member of ZZ Top over my right shoulder and the Bazoingah woman's hair over my left. Here's another picture of Steve and I with me displaying my new Five finger Vibram barefoot running shoes. They look like Gorilla feet and were definitely drawing attention. But OHHHHH are they comfortable.
to installment no. 3 of our travelogue, ShimShaw Redemption, where we take a lengthy trip to Flora, MS to look at several roadside attractions that we'll tell you to avoid or relish. The picture to your left is me, Kris, and I'm holding up some delicous barbecue sauce up from Sonny's Barbecue outside of Jackson. If you look real close, you can see the name of the sauce is "smokin." It's been a hectic two weeks since we last travelled and for me, Jury duty and school have kicked in making the workload twice as dense. I was really ready for some new scenery.If you remember, Wendy was saddled with researching a new site after our successful jaunt to Baton Rouge to visit the Insomkneeack Pexcho's American Dime Museum and we think she steered us, once again, into a really terrific site. The Mississippi Petrified Forest as described from the brochure, "is privately owned and developed with the primary aim of complete and natural preservation. It was named a Regional National Natural Landmark by the National Park Service in 1966" and we felt they did the park service proud. Check out the website at www.mspetrifiedforest.com. You may, as Wendy was, be under impressed by what was presented webwise, but we felt the Park itself was really done well.
The weather has been bad in the Gulf Region as of late, so Wendy, being ever ready had a few contingency plans in mind, but they weren't necessary as everything went as planned.
Okay, I have to admit right here that when I woke up at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday morning to get ready for our adventure I was not really thrilled. Why you ask? Well, I have a standing Friday night appointment with my octogenarian Sicilian mentor, Mrs. Mussolini. You can't say no to a Sicilian, you know, and, well, I wouldn't want to think of the consequences I'd face saying no to Mrs. Mussolini specifically. So she, my lovely friend Phyllis and I headed out as planned Friday night and, in a word, overindulged. Consequently, my head was not coming off the pillow easily this morning and to wit, it was pouring outside. I tried to get up, but secretly, I was hoping Wendy would call and say, "Eh, Naw. We don't want to do this in this weather."
We planned to start with McDonald's breakfast at 7:30 and I figured I'd wait for her call. When she did call though, as planned she announced brightly, "We're fifteen minutes away and we have breakfast which we'll eat at your place! Do you have coffee?" I told her I would make some or we'd get it at PJ's across the street and I'd be ready. Oi! No turning back now. They are so thoughtful and with the plan in process I started getting ready, totally committed to the day.
So I jumped in my shower, plopped a note on the door telling Steve and Wendy to come in and began getting my act together. Shortly after they arrived and surprised me with a full and nutritious homemade breakfast. Steve decided that WE could do better than McD's and made a terrific frittata with bacon and fresh biscuits! I pulled out jellies and preserves and pressed some African Kituma for us and we had a relaxing and delicious breakfast. I decided at that point that lunch was gonna be on me.
We chatted for a while in an attempt to let every one's plumbing adjust before hitting the car and then off went went. Steve drove, me as shotgun and Wendy in the back. Wendy's son Nick had prepped several eclectic CD's of music for Wendy and they were quite good. Good for Wendy and I, but not altogether considerate of Steve's taste. Again we discussed a seeming lack of consideration for Steve's needs musically, but I think by the 3rd time we travel, we'll have something ready for him.
We hit the road around 9 a.m. into overcast skies and rain. We all crossed our fingers that we'd blast through this mess somewhere north of the city and enjoy some sunshine. Unlike last time, the driving would be between Steve and I because Wendy left her license at home....hmmmm.
This drive was familiar roadside territory for me. During my moms rather lengthy kidney illness, I ran this route up I-55 almost every other week. Being on it was nostalgic and much like going home even though Mum has been gone now for almost eight years. The route is NOLA to Jackson, to Granada, to Memphis to Cape Girardeau. But for us today strictly Jackson. I've included some goofy video of us jamming to Nicks tapes at the end of the blog. Enjoy.
We got to Jackson in the regular time, about two to three hours maybe longer because of the rain. Somewhere around McComb, the sun came out and we all flashed each other knowing smiles feeling like we were gonna blessed with good fortune and would have a good excursion. At Jackson, Wendy and I attempted to give Steve directions to route 20, but instead of following what we knew, we kept guiding him from an incorrectly posted sign for route 20 pointing right instead of left... almost steered Steve the wrong way! Steve just quipped matter of factly, "just don't speak to me." We did feel stupid Steve. But on the ride back we get vindicated....but you have to wait for that.
At this point, you should be seeing a pattern arise where Wendy and her restroom obsession are concerned. If you recall from the last post, I remarked that stressful events seem to correspond with Wendy having to...well "go!" So our nearly steering Steve of course and Steve clipping us about it caused Wendy's plumbing to open up and shortly after that Wendy needed to "pee pee." God was truly with us. The sun was shining and as we pulled off the next exit to find a restroom for Wendy to cross off her list, we passed a restaurant called "Sonny's." Sonny's ! Sonny's was exactly the place we wanted to lunch in after we visited the petrified forest. Steve, still a bit flustered by our botched navigation, suggested clear-headedly that instead of looking for a place to pee, why don't we just eat lunch NOW and use the bathroom there. Agreed and we went to Sonny's.
There's a picture of Sonny's with Wendy and Steve standing very satisfied. It was a barbecue house that Wendy said the web information described as "Yummy!" Well we weren't disappointed; two orders of Ribs, baked beans and cole slaw, a pulled pork sandwich and three sweet "Ahced" teas later we wrapped up a fine meal.
Did I mention again our waiter Barrett. He was a polite little guy with his long hair pulled back and a dark drawl that set the menu items to music. He was also very quick, we no sooner got salads than our food came. Good thing too because as soon as our order hit the table, it seemed all of Jackson decided to come out for lunch. We credit him with knowingly getting us taken care of so we wouldn't have to wait. We tipped him twenty percent, but he seemed overwhelmed by the gesture. When we told him to keep the change he looked at us all crazy like and said, "Really?!!" We discussed this later too, Wendy, Steve and I, because they deduced that people in that area probably don't tip the standard 15 to 20 percent and the kid was probably shocked to get a decent tip. If you're in that area, look up Sonny's and ask for Barret, tip him well and tell him we sent ya. He won't know what the hell you're talking about, but it will make us feel good. I paid like I said I was going to. I know some of my friends out there doubt that, but Ah paaaaaaiiiiiid! There's a picture below of Wendy holding up something I don't recognize, but she looks darn happy to have it.
So off to the Petrified Forest! We got on to the 49 and made our way towards Pocahontas and Flora. At Pocahontas we suddenly spied the TP Barbecue that Wendy wanted to try and I thought she was going to come out of her seat. She insisted we take pictures on the way back. There were also these Indian mounds we decided we'd check out on the way back. More on that later.The rest of the ride to the forest was more or less a discussion we've been having over the years of buying a piece of land together as a hurricane getaway/farm. My chiropractor told me that land in Vicksburg was going for a song. We talked about checking it out and decided that Vicksburg was historical enough for us to do a trip to and if we stayed over night we could look at land....There's our next trip! Historic Vicksburg!!!
It's funny how you travel just three hours north and the accents just get a might bit wild and twangy. I first noticed it with Barrett, the waiter, but then we talked about huckleberry trees with the table across from us, they were almost indiscernible. The clerk at the forest wasn't any better but the best is yet to come. We'll tell you about it at Pocahontas. Get your banjo's ready.
Finally THE MISSISSIPPI PETRIFIED FOREST! It was deserted, but it look well maintained and ready for very large groups of people. Wendy dawned a prairie girl hat...adorable and we started looking around. It was Holly Hobby Wendy or Strawberry Shortcake Wendy in the wild. I took pictures of Wendy with things like wooden woodpeckers, and posing with crystals embedded in cinder block on Wendy's camera, which I hope she'll share with us, but the intitial experience was not encouraging to me, Wendy was making the most of it. We were certain the "forest" would be some rinky dink little side walk with stone logs along it and a five minute walk, but boy were we surprised!!!
But first Wendy had to take care of business. I hope Wendy'll share all the restroom quest photos we took on her camera, because she really loves those places!
The price was seven dollars a piece to take the walking tour. The Gift shop was full of gems and the bathroom, Wendy reports, was clean and adequate. We scoped the shop and headed out side. Interestingly, by the time we started our tour there were several other families lined up to walk too. Encouraging!
Upon purchasing your tickets, the clerk gives you a Nature Trail Guide with information for each of the marked areas. This stuff is really amazing and it's everywhere! It displays and uses the petrified trees and the science used to identify their species as a basis for telling the story of this area post glacier. It starts 36 million years ago and 60 feet above our heads. It tells how water and trees from totally different parts of the continent are swept and buried here only to be replace by minerals in the silt. Extraordinary! I was also impressed with the Loblolly Pines. These trees have the most interesting bark and are everywhere. Pine and cedar cones litter the aggregate concrete walkway that snakes through this diverse landscape. The canopy from the dense trees covers and cools those who are walking the path. No gimmicks, sales pitch or pressure. We slowly worked our way through all 26 sites and ended in the earth science museum. I really think this would be a great day trip for our school.
I don't think it's for everybody, but I personally loved coming here. It really is an amazing, living conservation area and we felt a real sense of awe here.
So we finished a bit stunned and surprised at how cool this place was and then hit the Gift Shop. While Steve hit the can, Wendy and I discovered that they had some interactive gem mining shop in the back with old mining and farm implementation equipments. Wendy got really fueled by this, but Steve returned and the "voice of reason" made it apparent that it was time for us to wrap it up. I don't know when the beer hit the mix, but a some point I didn't see Steve and Wendy said he was nursing a beer in the parking lot and that it was time to go.
I've included a good deal of the pictures I took, but I especially love this picture of Wendy and Steve on a large petrified specimen called appropriately, "The couch."From the forest, I drove, that's Kris, so Steve could nap a bit and we headed out to go to Pocahontas. It was easy enough to locate....big fiberglass TP in the middle of the town of four buildings and as we pulled in we noticed there was a General Store! How long has it been since you've seen one of those? We vowed to go in...do you hear the banjo yet? Da de duh duh duh duh dee duh duh....
But before this, we hit the TP! See the picture below? Wendy is ever so excited to see it and I can't
stop giggling. Steve sat this one out. Then the town had a couple of other buildings, a bike shop, a municipal building with a red fire hydrant outside of it that displayed a sign saying "city dog" on it and six feet to its left was a large tree trunk cut about two feet from the bottom with a sign displayed saying, "Country dog." Da de duh duh duh duh dee duh duh..Then the requisite abandoned store front and .... the General Store.... which was right next to the deer processing building...da da dee dum dum.....
We left Steve in the car, took pictures, held our breath and entered. Okay. We were greeted by two sweet girls with accents so thick we had to ask twice. When we answered there seemed to be a sparkle in one of thems ahhhhhs and she quickly left the store. I sensed they knew we were outsiders. I was a bit paranoid now with my Gorilla looking fivefingers shoes on I was conspicuously not Cunntry. Wendy was unconcerned and boundless...I kept hearing the faint sound of dueling banjos...da da dee dum dum.....as we worked deeper into the quagmire of dirty incandescent bulbs, saws, farm implements and half stocked shelves I heard Wendy squeak with a cautious glee as she stopped in front of a large glowing box. "Crickets!" she remarked delightedly,"Crickets!" she called to me again and there against the wall was a large
box of wing rubbing, undulating crickets crawling over egg boxes in a mass of insect mania. I found it interesting that they couldn't jump out...but that's the city boy talking. I took a couple of pictures y
ou can see here and then noticed that Wendy had disappeared. I heard the familiar giggle and went out to find her.Wendy was now all the way in the back of the store where a mass of unused freezers and boxes were haphazardly strewn about. In the middle of this milieu stands Wendy pointing as a pair of macraccas on a high shelf. "Look," she said in her high-pitched "happy" voice, "They even have these thing-ees" and she giggled. It was bizarre to me and as we made our way down an aisle whe spied a set of long horn steer horns on the aisle....I was becoming uncomfortable. Da da dee dum dum...
The picture below is some of the "instruments" hanging on the wall. Wendy danced past me and went to the soft drink aisle. "They have Stewart Rootbeer!" she
called out to me and she mentioned something about buying socks for when it rained so her feet would stay warm. "Stewart Roobear?" I replied. I didn't know what Stewart Root Beer was like, but felt that if Wendy's suggested it, it was probably good, I was compelled to purchase a sample myself. Alas and not surprisingly the General Store only had ONE bottle. That's it! I thought and abruptly the door opened and a red haired, disfigured looking man aggressively entered the store and shot past me to the mess in the back. He didn't look happy and the sound of distant banjos dueling away swelled in my mind. "Enough for me," I thought. I passed Wendy at the counter as she was struggling to get money out to pay for her purchases. I threw her a fiver and headed out the door. I don't really know why I got nervous there, but I wanted out. Too many horror movies I guess. Once in the car we made plenty of banjo jokes, but Steve confirmed to me that he felt the man entering was menacing 
looking. I know there was no danger...or was there?So off we go to look at the "mounds" at Pocahontas. I personally think it was just another roadstop bathroom that Wendy wanted to strike off her list. This place was really a glorified rest stop...with an Indian mound on it and, of course a Confederate Flag...Oi! I'll include some pictures of us at it here, but it was of such insignificance that Steve stayed in the car.
Wendy and I started at the "welcoming center" which was not so "welcoming" because it was closed. We then proceeded around the back of the building to take a look at the mound. We 
were intrigued by signs on the grass that read "respect this site, stay off the grass" well...that did it! We had to give the voice of authority a ....a voice! So out come our worst southern accents to narrate every placard on the saaht! There weren't many so it didn't last too long. Wendy and I gaized at the mound with reverence and started back to the car. We noticed Steve was changing places....I wasn't driving anymore for some reason. We worked our way to the parking lot when Wendy spied the womans restroom....she couldn't resist and neither could I for that matter. Wendy disappeared into the building and I quickly prepped my cell phone to catch a shot of her relieved expression as she exited. It soon got complicated though, because a family stopped at the deserted sight to use the same restroom. They were'nt looking too excited as they noticed a strange man learing at the entrance of the ladies restroom with a camera. Fortunatley for me, Wendy emerged and I got my kodak moment! Into the car and off we went with Steve at the Wheel, me riding shotgun and Wendy coveting the chocolate donuts in the back.
Here's a shot of Wendy with the actual mounds.
I explained earlier that we goofed Steve's exit to Route 20 and that I'd get back to the "vindication" towards the end of this installment. Well, here it is. We take off on 48 west under some clouding skies and head for route 20. When you get to the split for route 20 you can go left to Jackson or Right to Vicksburg. I exhibited major personal discipline as we approached the interchange to not "backseat" Steve's directions, but I did. Steve zoomed to the right and took us sailing happily towards Vicksburg...albeit unawares on his part. I know both Wendy and I were really feeling like we SHOULD have said something, but we didn't want to incurr Steve's wrath twice in one day. The bottom line was that we were going in the wrong direction. I don't know how Wendy was feeling about the situation, but I was content to go to Vicksburg at this point than redirect Steve...and it looked like that's what was gonna happen. Finally I couldn't stand it. I said something about how we were headed to Vicksburg. Steve was incredulous, understandably, to my comment and suggested whatever was going on, he was pretty uncomfortable with the way that both Wendy and I "sort of" confirmed directions and that he was normally informed, researched and mapped when he plans travel. We were in for it now, until Wendy produced a map which reflected our worst suspicions, and what I had really known all the time... that we were going west and not east to Jackson. You can imagine the tension as we found the next exit and made a "U-ee" back towards Jackson. I was able to mumble the next turn without getting a stare shot and we were on our way south on I-55. Whew. I was glad that was over. I was prone to asking every couple of minutes if Steve wanted me to drive. He just shook his head "no." I'm sure Wendy was glad to be in the back seat.
Sounds of bangos were long gone and the discussion now turned to how we may have bitten off too much where travel was concerned, an obvious reaction to the I-20 mishap. We all agreed though that this was as close a trip as we could make in a day.
That seemed to calm us all down and we started moving south. Rain met us a few minutes into the drive on I-55 and it was torrential. It caused a hush among us and you could tell everyone was ready to be home.
As I've observed before, moments of stress push Wendy's obsession with bathrooms and about thirty-five minutes down 55, Wendy voiced a need to use the loo! We found a stop that seemed kinda remote, but okay and stocked up on junk food (rollo's and beef jerky) and headed out to the car. Here's a picture of the bathroom Wendy used. She seemed to love it, but in the boys john, I was schocked at how filthy it was.
I caught the following picture as she came out and noticed we were attracting a bit of attention. I love the fact that the Women's Bathroom, which is clearly marked, has a sign, handwritten on it (notice Wendy highlighting it in her picture) that says, "Women Only, No Men!" Duh? What's going on here that there has to be two large signs on the door informing men to use the Mens Room.
In my observation of the place and by some tatted, toothless, drawls in the parking lot, I felt, once again, the uncomfortable sounds of banjoes strumming in the distance. I felt a need to spring this joint and we did. It seems that every time I feel there are questionably IQ'd, incestuous, possibly irrational and malicious looking humans ambling around, Steve seems to coraborate my feelings. He did this time too. We were on our way. Whew this blog is taking longer to write than the trip itself...sorry.
Music is on, Wendy's sharing her slim jim and me my rolos and we're all doing well even though the rain is just relentless when Steve says dryly, "Un Oh, the icon has lit up." I'm thinking perhaps I need to drive when he explains that's the low fuel light. "I should have filled up back there, I didn't think about it," he remarked. Wendy and I sat up straight thinking, "What the heck should we do?" We discussed turning back and how much time you have when the light goes on in a hope of distracting ourselves from the reality/seriousness of our predicament. I remember we were following not too far from a late model buick, with mist flying and our wipes and sunglasses helping us to fight the vision impairment, when impulsively Steve followed the Buick off the next exit. The idea was we'd follow him to whatever settlement we could and find gas. I admit now that my heart sank. I would never leave the interstate in this situation unless I knew there was a station....but I was not going to guide Steve away from his hunch. Cluck, Cluck...can you say Chicken! I will say that once off the highway there was NOTHING around. We followed the car left and east down a two lane highway with goosebumps as the rains seriously intensified. At a "T" in the road the buick turned north and Steve headed to the right, south...the rain was absolutley blinding and the banjo's were, once again, at full volume in my head. I was wondering what good going so far off the interstate would be, but as I've said before, Steve may not be the most orthodoxed person, but he usually doesn't make a decision with serious consideration. All of a sudden he took a fast left on another road. Nothing...some houses but no merchants. Finally Wendy and I told Steve we'd better head back as even more pounding rain impaired our path. I know the writer in Wendy was thinking, "This is the beginning of every bad horror movie I've ever read." as we careened down the deserted two lane highway. We turned around and headed back down the road to the "T" and back to the interstate. It was still light out which made it better, but dusk was approaching and that made us anxious. We held a brief discussion about roadside assistance, making plans for any real problem and I told Wendy and Steve I had Triple A for roadside service in case we ran out of gas. Luckily it wasn't needed. We found an exit a brief way down the highway that took us to a gas station. It was my turn to put gas in and Steve suggested we put a little in and then hit a gas station on the interstate. I went in to pay and a small black woman was berating a biracial couple about taking their romantic movements to a hotel. The white girl of the couple shot a nasty remark right back at her about how they didn't need a room, How she got that articulated with not teeth was beside me, but I hurried through my business and went out to the car to pump. Wendy, for some reason had to go in.....I may have missed a bathroom photo op, but she came back with jewlry and rosaries that she purchased inside. The drama was over.
I don't remember, but I think we stopped at a racetrak and finished filling the car up. I took the wheel and as we headed down I-55, at peace, the rain lifted. We got home a little before seven p.m. and although we agreed that anything this far, again, would entail a sleepover, we certainly had a nice day.
Happy Traveling!
Kris
were intrigued by signs on the grass that read "respect this site, stay off the grass" well...that did it! We had to give the voice of authority a ....a voice! So out come our worst southern accents to narrate every placard on the saaht! There weren't many so it didn't last too long. Wendy and I gaized at the mound with reverence and started back to the car. We noticed Steve was changing places....I wasn't driving anymore for some reason. We worked our way to the parking lot when Wendy spied the womans restroom....she couldn't resist and neither could I for that matter. Wendy disappeared into the building and I quickly prepped my cell phone to catch a shot of her relieved expression as she exited. It soon got complicated though, because a family stopped at the deserted sight to use the same restroom. They were'nt looking too excited as they noticed a strange man learing at the entrance of the ladies restroom with a camera. Fortunatley for me, Wendy emerged and I got my kodak moment! Into the car and off we went with Steve at the Wheel, me riding shotgun and Wendy coveting the chocolate donuts in the back.
Here's a shot of Wendy with the actual mounds.
I explained earlier that we goofed Steve's exit to Route 20 and that I'd get back to the "vindication" towards the end of this installment. Well, here it is. We take off on 48 west under some clouding skies and head for route 20. When you get to the split for route 20 you can go left to Jackson or Right to Vicksburg. I exhibited major personal discipline as we approached the interchange to not "backseat" Steve's directions, but I did. Steve zoomed to the right and took us sailing happily towards Vicksburg...albeit unawares on his part. I know both Wendy and I were really feeling like we SHOULD have said something, but we didn't want to incurr Steve's wrath twice in one day. The bottom line was that we were going in the wrong direction. I don't know how Wendy was feeling about the situation, but I was content to go to Vicksburg at this point than redirect Steve...and it looked like that's what was gonna happen. Finally I couldn't stand it. I said something about how we were headed to Vicksburg. Steve was incredulous, understandably, to my comment and suggested whatever was going on, he was pretty uncomfortable with the way that both Wendy and I "sort of" confirmed directions and that he was normally informed, researched and mapped when he plans travel. We were in for it now, until Wendy produced a map which reflected our worst suspicions, and what I had really known all the time... that we were going west and not east to Jackson. You can imagine the tension as we found the next exit and made a "U-ee" back towards Jackson. I was able to mumble the next turn without getting a stare shot and we were on our way south on I-55. Whew. I was glad that was over. I was prone to asking every couple of minutes if Steve wanted me to drive. He just shook his head "no." I'm sure Wendy was glad to be in the back seat.
Sounds of bangos were long gone and the discussion now turned to how we may have bitten off too much where travel was concerned, an obvious reaction to the I-20 mishap. We all agreed though that this was as close a trip as we could make in a day.
That seemed to calm us all down and we started moving south. Rain met us a few minutes into the drive on I-55 and it was torrential. It caused a hush among us and you could tell everyone was ready to be home.
As I've observed before, moments of stress push Wendy's obsession with bathrooms and about thirty-five minutes down 55, Wendy voiced a need to use the loo! We found a stop that seemed kinda remote, but okay and stocked up on junk food (rollo's and beef jerky) and headed out to the car. Here's a picture of the bathroom Wendy used. She seemed to love it, but in the boys john, I was schocked at how filthy it was.
I caught the following picture as she came out and noticed we were attracting a bit of attention. I love the fact that the Women's Bathroom, which is clearly marked, has a sign, handwritten on it (notice Wendy highlighting it in her picture) that says, "Women Only, No Men!" Duh? What's going on here that there has to be two large signs on the door informing men to use the Mens Room.
In my observation of the place and by some tatted, toothless, drawls in the parking lot, I felt, once again, the uncomfortable sounds of banjoes strumming in the distance. I felt a need to spring this joint and we did. It seems that every time I feel there are questionably IQ'd, incestuous, possibly irrational and malicious looking humans ambling around, Steve seems to coraborate my feelings. He did this time too. We were on our way. Whew this blog is taking longer to write than the trip itself...sorry.
Music is on, Wendy's sharing her slim jim and me my rolos and we're all doing well even though the rain is just relentless when Steve says dryly, "Un Oh, the icon has lit up." I'm thinking perhaps I need to drive when he explains that's the low fuel light. "I should have filled up back there, I didn't think about it," he remarked. Wendy and I sat up straight thinking, "What the heck should we do?" We discussed turning back and how much time you have when the light goes on in a hope of distracting ourselves from the reality/seriousness of our predicament. I remember we were following not too far from a late model buick, with mist flying and our wipes and sunglasses helping us to fight the vision impairment, when impulsively Steve followed the Buick off the next exit. The idea was we'd follow him to whatever settlement we could and find gas. I admit now that my heart sank. I would never leave the interstate in this situation unless I knew there was a station....but I was not going to guide Steve away from his hunch. Cluck, Cluck...can you say Chicken! I will say that once off the highway there was NOTHING around. We followed the car left and east down a two lane highway with goosebumps as the rains seriously intensified. At a "T" in the road the buick turned north and Steve headed to the right, south...the rain was absolutley blinding and the banjo's were, once again, at full volume in my head. I was wondering what good going so far off the interstate would be, but as I've said before, Steve may not be the most orthodoxed person, but he usually doesn't make a decision with serious consideration. All of a sudden he took a fast left on another road. Nothing...some houses but no merchants. Finally Wendy and I told Steve we'd better head back as even more pounding rain impaired our path. I know the writer in Wendy was thinking, "This is the beginning of every bad horror movie I've ever read." as we careened down the deserted two lane highway. We turned around and headed back down the road to the "T" and back to the interstate. It was still light out which made it better, but dusk was approaching and that made us anxious. We held a brief discussion about roadside assistance, making plans for any real problem and I told Wendy and Steve I had Triple A for roadside service in case we ran out of gas. Luckily it wasn't needed. We found an exit a brief way down the highway that took us to a gas station. It was my turn to put gas in and Steve suggested we put a little in and then hit a gas station on the interstate. I went in to pay and a small black woman was berating a biracial couple about taking their romantic movements to a hotel. The white girl of the couple shot a nasty remark right back at her about how they didn't need a room, How she got that articulated with not teeth was beside me, but I hurried through my business and went out to the car to pump. Wendy, for some reason had to go in.....I may have missed a bathroom photo op, but she came back with jewlry and rosaries that she purchased inside. The drama was over.
I don't remember, but I think we stopped at a racetrak and finished filling the car up. I took the wheel and as we headed down I-55, at peace, the rain lifted. We got home a little before seven p.m. and although we agreed that anything this far, again, would entail a sleepover, we certainly had a nice day.
Happy Traveling!
Kris
