Memphis

It's my last day in the South, and I am officially out of energy.

Green shag carpet, floor AND ceiling

Today I finally got to sleep in a bit, then headed down to Graceland, which just may have the gaudiest interior design in history. The mansion uses a guided audio tour that leads you all around the grounds. I really hate audio tours, and would have preferred to just wander through on my own, but without the recordings, there's little to no information given on the place. The tour ends at the graves of Elvis and his family, in the meditation garden. Since I was surrounded by other tourists, I couldn't really stop there and sing Heartbreak Hotel, a la Spinal Tap. Oh well, probably would've sounded reggae anyway.

The overpriced mansion tour alone was only $4 less than the everything tour, so I went for it all. However, after looking at the second small museum and the airplanes, I gave up. I was vaguely interested in the car collection, but it was a block down the road, and it was too hot to make the walk, especially after 90 minutes out in it already. I opted to get back in the car and visit Beale Street.

Before I did, though, I took a trip across the bridge to West Memphis, Arkansas, to get a closer look at the state of the Mississippi River. On the way over, the bridge walls were high and I couldn't see much of anything, and it turned out West Memphis is not really a destination for anything at all. Most every building I saw was run-down and/or closed, and that was on the town's main drag. I finally just turned back toward Tennessee, and that's when I saw the water level... long before I actually reached the river. Big Muddy is currently Huge Muddy. What a mess.

Back in Memphis, I parked on the east end of the Beale Street Historic District and walked down the closed off blocks. I was rather underwhelmed. The street has some old landmarks and lots of new clubs, each one with a different live band playing so that the street was a cacophony. I went into a couple of stores and stopped in at WC Handy Park, then gave up. The car claimed 98 degrees outside, but it felt more like 1000. Maybe 1200. I made my way back to the hotel to cool off before dinner.

My original plan was to relax for a few, then go down to Earnestine and Hazel's for a burger, since they sound so good, and this will probably be my only chance. But now that I'm here, I have no desire to move, even to grab something nearby. I'm bored and don't want to sit in this room watching Three's Company all night, but I also can't muster the energy to drive anymore, and am definitely not up to walking in the heat.

Maybe I'll caffeinate and see if that helps me perk up. I have more to do here!

Blues Traveling

So the sign is a bit crooked. It's not easy to take photos while going 70mph.

I'm back in Memphis tonight after another day on the road, about half of which was on the famous Hwy 61. If you have to ask, don't bother.

Anyway. I had around a dozen spots I wanted to visit along the Mississippi Delta, which I had carefully picked from hundreds that I could have seen. After the last couple of days' exhaustion, however, I cut it down to just a few. I planned to visit all 3 graves supposedly belonging to inventor of the Blues, Robert Johnson, but instead went only the one in Greenwood, most likely to include the man himself. While I was alone in a little graveyard amidst the cotton fields, it was clear lots of others had made the same trip. The headstone had lots of little tokens, from flowers and coins to drumsticks. I didn't leave anything behind; I just took a moment, and went on my way.

Next stop was Indianola, home of BB King -- at least for the few days a year that he's not on the road. I had planned to take a quick break there on the way to the Blues Museum in Leland, but instead stopped into the BB King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center. After perusing the exhibit, I continued on through Leland, spotted a Johnny Winter Blues Marker, but didn't see much reason to stop.

From there, I turned north toward Clarksdale, birthplace of the blues. In addition to its many other musical landmarks, it claims the legendary crossroads where Robert Johnson traded his soul to the devil in return for the ability to invent Blues music. What locals now call The Crossroads is actually the point where Highways 61 and 49 merge, not so much the dusty intersection where ol' Bob fell down on his knees. Chuck Klosterman did a great deal of research and thought he managed to find the "real" spot out in the country, but I don't have that much time, and I'm not writing a book, so I just went to Abe's Bar-B-Q at the Crossroads and had a nice pork sandwich.

I intended to go next to Helena, Arkansas, to the home of Sonny Boy Williamson, but I was road weary, and it was still 80 miles to Memphis without the detour, so I scratched that off the itinerary and went straight through back to Tennessee.

It's funny, I have a couple of guides leading down the Blues Trail, and they occasionally offer good songs for your road trip soundtrack. I always kind of shook my head and thought, I would never listen to that; it would be kind of like wearing the T-shirt of the band you're going to see. Who wants to be that guy? But at the last minute, I grabbed a couple of those CDs anyway, and I'm glad I did. Leaving Tupelo yesterday, I really did want to listen to Elvis. And racking up the miles on country roads, passing through one small dilapidated town after another put me in the mood to listen to the Blues. Of course, hearing Sonny Boy on the record made it harder to skip Helena, but it was still the right musical accompaniment.

I'm now relaxing with a bit of dinner and deciding what to do with my last day tomorrow. There's a lot to see here in Memphis, so I know it will be a full day, whatever I do.

Jackson, Mississippi

I'm such a nerd for places I've never been before. I got way more excited than I should have from driving over the Tallahatchie River, and I'm fascinated by the red dirt here. Even the roads are red!

It's good that I'm enjoying the roads, since I spent almost my entire day alone with them. There were long stretches where I didn't see another car, forget about houses, restaurants, or gas stations. Just when I was beginning to worry that I would have an empty tank before I saw a filling station, I came upon a Walmart surrounded by a few gasoline and fast food chains, collectively known as Louisville, Mississippi.

Most of the day was spent in BFE, though. Literally. I drove through a town called Egypt somewhere in East Mississippi. Although, to be fair, town may be too strong a word. There were no structures nearby to signify a city of any sort, just a faded sign at the side of the road, surrounded by trees.

My day was dominated by driving, but in addition to Main Street, Louisville, I did make a few planned stops. I started out heading to Tupelo, for Elvis' birthplace. I arrived around 12:30 and they didn't open until 1, so I wasn't able to go inside the tiny house or shop the gift store. I did wander around and take a few snapshots, but there wasn't enough to keep me there until business hours.

I also stopped at Veteran's Memorial Park in Tupelo, and then it took me 3 hours to reach Jackson, where I popped in briefly for a Whataburger and got back on the road. My next destination was New Port M.B. Church in Ebenezer, a small red brick building hidden far back on a rough country road, which has the grave of Elmore James in its cemetery. It sounds a bit odd to go 50 miles (each direction) out of your way to take a picture of a headstone, but much of my weekend will be just that. Unfortunately, most of the blues legends have passed, so the Delta Blues Trail includes many a side trip to their final resting places.

I'm now back in Jackson for the night, at the most depressing Hilton I've ever stayed in. I'm not sure how many miles I racked up today, but it's definitely in the hundreds. I'm wiped out, but still enjoying the best mood I've been in since... well, since my last trip out of town.

Tomorrow's trip will involve about equal miles and many more stops, so I have a pile of directions to look up before I can hit the road. It will be another exhausting day, and I really can't wait.

The Memphis Burbs

I've made it to the South. After waking up at 3:30am Seattle time. I'm tired. So, so tired.

It's hot here, and humid, but it's not the kind of tropical heat and humidity where I sweat and curse my frizzy hair all day. No, this is a stifling blanket of hot, thick air that engulfs me and holds on until I slink back indoors. I just don't have the energy to be out in it tonight.

That being said, I already like the small amount of time I've spent here. The people so far have been genuine and friendly, even the ones whose accents I can't quite always understand, and I have to admit, I feel a bit like Liz Lemon in Cleveland.

"Why, no, I'm not a model!"

My hotel is on the outskirts of Memphis, because it's insanely cheap for a nice room out here, and I have a rental car anyway. Sure, it's a crappy Ford Fiesta with slightly less power than a kitchen aid, but it has a CD player and the AC works quite well, so it'll suit me fine for all the mileage I'll be clocking over the next few days. 

Once I got settled, I ventured out to explore the vicinity of my hotel, but found pretty much nothing. When I figured that being incessantly lost and/or falling asleep at the wheel were both possibilities, I decided I'd been beaten, and pulled into the nearest store that might sell me some sunglasses (since I managed to break my previous travel shades in Texas). It was Target. I shopped there anyway, not because I've forgiven them their politics, but because I didn't have the fight in me to look for anyplace else. It was a gigantic store, so I also picked up some breakfast, and a 6-pack of Yuengling lager, which I have loved since I first tried it on a trip Baltimore. It doesn't exactly fit my local beer rule that I normally have while traveling, but it's just so damn good on a hot day, and I can't get it on the West Coast.

Then, just as I turned back toward my night's lodging and began wondering what to get for dinner, there it was. I swear I heard a choir of angels.

Chick-Fil-A.

 A quick trip around the drive-thru, and I had the dinner of the gods in my possession.

So here I am, back in my room for the night, belly full of spicy chicken, absorbed in Google maps, planning tomorrow's road trip. I'll spend the next 2 days in Mississippi before returning to Memphis for the remainder of my trip. Until then, it's time for a beer or two, some free HBO, and a good night's sleep.

The End of the Earth

It's nearly 6pm on May 21st, and everything in the world is normal. Is this a big deal?

It isn't. So why is everybody talking about it? 

Recently an elderly religious guy, whose name I refuse to learn, began using his radio network to share his prediction of the coming judgment day, where those of his ilk would be whisked off up a Stairway to Heaven, while the sad atheists like me stay here on Earth to suffer devastating natural disasters, and ultimately death. Crazy people make these kinds of proclamations all the time, for all kinds of reasons, so why did everybody pay so much attention this time?

I think there are a couple of reasons. First, this fellow and his group created a massive publicity engine to get the word out. They admitted doing their damnedest -- yeah, I said it -- to get the story on the news, feeding it to major media outlets in every country around the world. Second, most of the serious coverage seems to have been coming from the United States, which is one of the most religion-obsessed nations on the planet, despite constant claims to the contrary. I tend to read news from 3-4 English-speaking countries in a day, and the non-US reports were often a comic angle of the story in their Oddball News section, while Americans treated the subject with more gravity... while still hinting that the rapture probably wasn't coming, and it might be okay to joke about it, if you're so inclined.

Above all this, though, I think the story gave us all a good distraction and sense of togetherness that has been sorely lacking of late.

The United States is deeply divided over so many subjects right now: political leanings, economics and class, religious beliefs, even what constitutes a human right. This group, this small percentage of Americans devoted to an unusual interpretation of Christianity, brought the rest of us together. Just for a moment, we are all in it together, and they're the crazies, the other. We are the normal ones, we get it, so let's all wink and smile, and laugh together at their expense.

And while we're busy talking about this, we can forget everything else. Forget what divides us, sure, but also devote less of our brains to the bad things going on around us.

Why did everyone get sick of the rapture jokes? Because it was the only subject out there. Over the last week, while everyone (including me) was endlessly nattering about Judgment Day, I read How to Win a Cosmic War by Reza Aslan and Bill Bryson's African Diary, both of which discussed serious political and social matters around the world. Which made me realize I hadn't heard much of the same elsewhere since this frivolous End of Days story took over the headlines.

I have a Masters in Sociology of Religion, I enjoy a silly religious discussion more than the next, well, stadium full of guys. But I'm tired of this now. I only hope that come tomorrow, or Monday, when the end of the world still hasn't come, that we can get back to dealing with the real problems out there. Because there are so many, and so few working on the solutions.

Seattle's Hottest Club

A few episodes back, How I Met Your Mother had a great scene where the gang tried to decide where to go out for the night. Of course, the conversation quickly turned into a circular Who's On First style bit involving clubs with names like Where, Open, Closed, and Lame. Of course, Jordan, Anthony, and I immediately made this a Thing.

Shortly thereafter, I realized you could have a similar conversation using the names of real Seattle bars, and we've been knocking the idea around ever since. Here's my attempt at actually writing it down. Oddly, it's not too unlike our typical conversations when we head out, and sort of explains why we always end up at the same place.

I'm sure Jordan -- who is a better writer than I am -- will also take a stab at some point. Let the Awesome begin.


Interested Third Party:  Where are you guys going tonight?

Sarah:  I don't know, we'll probably just go to The Lobby.

ITP:  Just into the lobby? If you're not going all the way into the building, you might as well hang around the bus stop.

Jordan:  Ugh, let's not go to The Bus Stop. A cute guy there would be like a unicorn.

S:  No way. We are not going to Unicorn. Too many hipsters. And who wants the unicorn anyway, when they could do the good old pony?

J:  True. At least Pony is still a gay bar.

ITP:  Still?

J:  I guess we could go to Still. I'm kind of in the whisky bar mood.

S:  Do you really want to go to The Whisky Bar? Everybody's so... it's just not social.

J:  We could try Social. But is it even open yet? The Seattle scene is so grim.

S:  No, we tried Grimm, remember? It wasn't my thing.

ITP:  Look, I'm sorry I asked. Even if you two plan something, it always changes...

J + S together:  We are not going to Changes.

ITP:  Sounds like you guys are bitchy tonight. Look out!

J:  Oh yeah, we could totally go to the Lookout.

S:  But it's such a long walk back up the hill after. I'm so lazy.

J:  We can always sit down in The Lobby.

ITP:  Seriously, what do you guys have against going inside the building? Would you at least go into the garage?

S:  Absolutely not. The Garage is too bro-tastic. I'd sooner go for some grizzled wizard than any of those creepy dudes.

J:  Not The Grizzled Wizard. We're not going all the way to Wallingford for a cash bar.

ITP:  I'm officially confused. Where do you guys ever go? Is there a handful? List?

S:  You really think we'd go to List? Psh. Belltown.

J:  But if we did go to Belltown, the twist would be unexpected.

S:  Twist? No, not going there either. Belltown just isn't our place.

J:  R Place?! Have you gone insane?!

ITP:  Ok, ok! Nevermind. I don't know why I bothered asking. You two can't decide anyway. Always with the changes.

J + S together:  We are not going to Changes.

ITP:  [sigh] So... the Lobby, then?