2011 January | Other Such Things

Redneck Extravaganza Day

on January 31, 2011

Thursday 13.01.2011

Title inspired by Aaron LaRue

We stayed up late on Wednesday night with Aaron and his friends; Chris, Sarah, and Tubbs. After Aaron took us to his church, we went back to his house and ate THE best steak I have ever had. We stayed up late chatting, until Aaron sent them all home. “Ok, you guys can leave now.”

This boy makes me laugh.

So, we went to bed. And We Slept. Oh boy, did we ever. This was the first proper-in-real-life-for-real BED Dana and I had slept on since 26 December. We didn’t wake until 11.30 the next morning, much despite my original intention of not wasting my time here in Mississippi on sleeping.

Aaron took us to Frisco Deli for lunch. I grew up eating at this place, especially with my dad, when mum was at work, or away so she couldn’t scoff at him for feeding me such unhealthy food. I used to love coming here on dates with my dad.

And the cutest guy I have ever met, skipped over to me and asked if I would take a photo of his tattoo. I obliged (who wouldn’t). After which he asked, “Does this mean I am going to be famous on the internet?”

Well, dear Sir, I guess it does. (Sorry, the focusing isn’t quite right)

After ~~eating too much~~ a lovely un-gluttonous lunch, Aaron took us on a drive right past the school we both used to go to. We met here in 2nd grade. As we were driving past, one of our old teachers walked right out the front. I was delighted to see Mrs. Theresa! She squealed with excitement when she realised who I was, and came right up to me and gave me a big hug around the neck. I was very happy to have had this random encounter.

As a child, we actually lived next door to Mrs. Theresa. I remember going with her to see the Christmas light displays on Christmas eve, and finding a dollar note in the back of her car (yes, I probably kept it – sorry Mrs. Theresa). I also remember being babysat at her house, and playing with her black puppy named Duncan.

I am so glad to have run into this lovely lady.

Today, Aaron also showed Dana and I the finer things of Pearl Mississippi. He calls this part, ‘Redneck extravaganza’. Seriously, everybody I have met so far in the south owns a gun. And not just those hunting kind of guns, but those pistol BustACapInYo’Ass kind of guns. Aaron pulled his from under his driver’s seat, and I pretty much wet myself a little. And not in the good way. Or in Aaron’s words: I “wigged out”. A fair description.

He decided to take us to a couple of the many places that one can purchase such an item from.

And oh my. That is all I have to say about that. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

Pappy had tickets to the gun show…

And more, at Robert’s Western World:

I realise this one is not in focus, but it still begs to be posted. Got Camo??

The funniest part was (and not so much in relation to the guns) Dana’s reaction. Dana was MORE excited here than when he first saw the snow in new york. Something has happened to my husband. He is turning redneck. What have I done to him by bringing him here???

I also desperately want to include something we saw on the side of the road. I was all at once amazed and disgusted, in a sense of detached vulgar curiosity (I am sorry Mum, you might not like these ones) (either that, or you’ll be severely impressed):

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The end of a chapter

on January 27, 2011

Wednesday 12.01.2011

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about ‘family dynamics’ (particularly before we left on our trip). I find it so peculiar that for the most part, no matter how old/wise/sophisticated/idealistic/mature a person gets, all of that washes completely down the toilet when said person is placed back into the family group he or she originally grew up in.

Example: only a few weeks ago, my big sister came to visit Dana, myself, and our parents in Brisbane. We were all in the car on the way back from collecting her from the airport (and by ‘all’ I mean, Dana, Mum, Dad, Michelle and I). And suddenly I noticed, Dad was making crude and awkward jokes (intended solely on embarrassing the heck out of all the offspring in the back seat), Mum kept slapping Dad on the arm exclaiming, “Oh Robert! That’s ENOUGH!”

At the same time, Dana was sitting in the back seat to the left of me rolling his eyes (and yes, I realise he didn’t grow up with me, but due to the fact that he MARRIED me [I’m sure he’s questioning his initial reasons for doing so at this point], he strangely fits perfectly into said dynamic).

And to my right, is Michelle, my older sister, my confidant, ~~boss of the world~~, poised, mature, professional, theeee most excellent communicator who ever graced the face of this planet, also mother of two. However, her actions at this present moment were akin to a 14 year old’s.

“What was Michelle doing”, you might wonder?

Well… she was pretending to be about to pop the large pimple gracing her bottom lip, whilst pointing it in my direction. She was way too close to my face.

I was yelling, “StopitstopitMumDadDanafortheloveofGodsomebodymakeherstop” whilst feeling very queasy, leaning into Dana, pretty much on top of his lap. I retorted, “Seriously, I WILL vomit on your face!”

END SCENE I

“So why this squirmish recount”, you ask?

“We didn’t need to know all that”, you say.

Well, the fact of the matter is, I get a kick out of family dynamics. No matter the person you become or morph into, when placed back into your original surroundings, similar behaviours, much to everyone’s dismay, will eventually start creeping out again. There is no helping it.

There is only ONE other person in the world who makes me react in a similar manner. He is not family, and in the big scheme of things, I only spent a little part of my life with him. So it, to me, seems strange that such a strong reaction ensues.

His name is Aaron LaRue.

Besties as children, our life’s ambition (at the time) was solely to impress and out-do one another. Whilst reminiscing our friendship on the bus ride from Memphis, I recalled a few of the many instances that blur the lines between bestfriend and fiend:

We were constantly staging competitions to judge who could run the fastest on flat ground, who weighed the most (back in those days, weighing more was actually a good thing), who could make the best sandcastle, who could swim the farthest underwater (without coming up for breath), who could run the fastest in sand. And much to our dismay, we would always come up rather even.

I enjoyed the frustration it caused him to call him “Timothy” (his much disliked, ‘real’ first name), and he enjoyed annoying me in any way possible.

I remember one day, we were in my bedroom and I was trying to convince ~~Timothy~~ Aaron to play Barbies with me. He flatly refused. “That’s sissy girl stuff. I AIN’T doin’ that!”

I continued to try and convince him to say ‘yes’, whilst making the point that Ken was actually invented so boys could play too. Finally, he agreed (YESIWIN), but only under the provision that I would NEVER tell any of the kids in school. We pinky swore, and until now, I have never told a soul.

This particular day, playing in my room, ~~Timmy~~ Aaron had somehow discovered that I had a diary kept in the top drawer of my bedside table. He kept pestering me to let him read it. And because he wanted to so bad, I was vehemently in opposition to his plea. I needed to leave the room for some reason or another, upon which I threateningly warned him, “If you go ANYWHERE near my diary, I WILL (sohelpmeBob) punch you in the nose!”

I left the room, and returned only to discover him sitting on my bed, diary open in lap, with the biggest grin on his face.

So I punched him.

His eyes welled up with tears.

He cried (but only a little).

I felt terrible.

He ran and told his mom, who was having coffee with my mum in the next room.

I ran out behind him to plead my case (momentarily stifling the pang of guilt that was violently piercing my soul).

His mum replied, “Well, she DID warn you! And what did you think you were doing, going through a lady’s bedroom drawers?”

As with any 9 year olds, we were back as besties by the end of the afternoon. I am pretty sure I would have felt guilty enough to grant him entry to my diary, so all ended well.

END SCENE II

But gosh, I was such a bully.

I am sorry you have to know me Aaron.

Dana and I arrived in at the Jackson Greyhound terminal, and were met by Aaron LaRue. And immediately, I am transported back in time.

He is just a taller version of the boy I knew so many years ago. Same laugh, same cocky-ness, same big heart, and generous spirit.

It is so great to see him.

Dana and I are amazed at this person. We can both honestly say that he is one of the best guys around (and yes ladies, he is single). And we are honoured to call him ‘friend’.

We know he will go places, and is destined for greatness, and we are so blessed to be able to witness this, even if usually from afar. I am so incredibly proud of the man that he has become.

And to top it all off, he makes a pretty mean steak.

After being collected at the bus terminal, Aaron took us to meet his mother, who had requested/insisted we come visit her at work. It was SO great to see Ms. Gina. And I am almost appalled to note that after 12 years, she doesn’t seem to have aged one single day, and still is as beautiful as ever. Dana and I were so excited to be invited back to her (and her family’s) house on Sunday afternoon for a proper ‘Southern’ cooked meal.

Yessss!!

Aaron took us on a quick drive-by of the house I used to live in, and the school we went to, and oh, my heart. I have missed this place. He promised to take me back here so I can indulgently reminisce, and take 100’s of photos that mean nothing to anyone in the world but me. And trust me, I will have no problem in boring you with them when I get the chance.

We went back to Aaron’s house and what did we do? I challenged him to a game of ‘bananagrams’, and rightfully so, administered a down-right ass-whooping to my dear, oldest friend in the world.

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Buckle of the Bible belt: Part II

on January 25, 2011

Sunday 09.01.2011

By Sunday, it was snowing, which isn’t a surprise, seeing as though it has been so terribly cold. I am actually a bit miffed about this weather, as we had assumed that the further south we travelled, the warmer the weather would become. Dana even shipped his winter coat back to Adelaide. And I know, severely regretted this decision immediately after arriving in Nashville. This part calls for an ‘I told you so’ from me. I try to reserve these for the most poignant of occasions, and this, my friends, is certainly one of them.

We went to Grimey’s record store, and the place was filled with so many cool kats, that I felt embarrassed to take photos. Dumb, I know. Instead I bought a lot of records. So it was a pretty sweet trade. As we left, the guy who served us said, “well, since you’ve spent so much money here, I’ll give you both a free Grimey’s tshirt if you like.”

Something about freeeeeeee stuff always makes me squeal with excitement.

The next day, on Monday, we were set to leave Nashville for Jackson, Mississippi. I was very much looking forward to this.

Because it had snowed, unbeknownst to us, all the buses had been cancelled. Oscar and Chris dropped us off at the bus terminal at about 9.30am, and we entered a dirty station full of people sleeping up against duffel bags, plus a token dirty, crying toddler wandering around drinking from a Dr. Pepper bottle.

There was a long lineup at the information/ticket desk, which displayed a sign saying, “Back at 12.00”. Hmm. There were lots of cranky people, all who didn’t know what to do with themselves. There were no employees giving people information.

After an hour, we spotted a Greyhound employee, and practically had to crash-tackle her to the ground to squeeze any information out of her. We discovered that there would be no buses to Jackson that day, and that she had no idea when they would be up and running again.

Great.

So we called Chris, who came and picked us up again. O_o By this point, we were feeling particularly guilty, but still very thankful that we weren’t stranded like all the other poor souls at the terminal. I overheard one guy telling someone that he had been waiting there since 9.00 p.m. the night before.

Chris took us to a shop, and we bought some candy and MY NEW FAVOURITE GAME EVER, Bananagrams. We then spent too many hours in a lovely wooden café named the Frothy Monkey, drinking bottomless coffee, and playing round after round.

The rest of the evening was spent with Chris and Oscar at their place. Dana and I ordered pizza, and Oscar and Chris picked up some beer from the grocery store (only about $8 for a SIX PACK, can you believe it??!). We ate and drank, listened to Talking Heads, and played more Bananagrams.

The next day, the buses were back up and running. Yay! So in the morning, Dana and I went for a walk in the neighbourhood.

And after this, we, once again, got dropped off at the Greyhound terminal, and commenced our journey to Jackson, Mississippi (this time for real).

The photo below is the view I awoke to in the early hours of the morning, whilst on the bus, somewhere between Memphis and Jackson. Kinda makes it all worthwhile…

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The buckle of the Bible belt: Part I

on January 24, 2011

I am sorry about my slackness in posting. I really wanted to post everyday. But I am feeling rather behind and pressured. We have done so many cool things and I really want to share it all with you!! Thank you all for your patience. It is appreciated.

So here it is… one MEGA post on Nashville, Tennessee. It comes in two parts. The second, I will post tomorrow.

Friday 07.01.2011 to Saturday 08.01.2011

Nashville was filled with many musical outings. It only seems fitting that we stay in a house full of musicians.

Every night, when we were not out and about gallivanting and participating in raucous behaviour, we were gently rocked to sleep by the sound of some sort of musical ambition. Be it recording the part in a song for cymbals, vocals, guitar or drums, it soon became a familiar and welcome bedtime addition.

Dana and I spent much of our time in Nashville being chauffer driven/toured around town by Oscar’s roommate (also a well-travelled couchsurfer), Chris. It is kindnesses like these that make our trip as great as it has been so far.

Our second day in Nashville (Friday) saw some delicious pancakes for breakfast, Dana’s first taste of grits (he didn’t like them at all) and a spot of shopping.

The day concluded with a gig at a nearby club called ‘The Basement’, which surprisingly, is in the basement of an old converted house. Upstairs is the famous ‘Grimey’s’ record store which, just a couple of days later, spent way too much money in.

Anyway, we saw a gig… here are some photos. Sorry, it was very dark in there…

On Saturday, it was cold. It was so cold, it made me cry. Damn this weather. – 10 degrees Celcius. What the?? I literally wore two pairs of tights, long wooly socks, jeans, my doc martens, a singles, two long sleeved tops, a thick cardigan, my red winter coat, gloves and a beanie, and still, I felt as cold as I would have been if I were naked. My god.

Some days, I feel very sorry for Dana – who always patiently puts up with my constant whining.

Oscar dropped us of at the coolest place: Third Man Records. The recording studio/ Record store of Jack White III. I felt rather starstruck, to be honest. I was all at once happy and sad that the man himself wasn’t actually there. I really don’t like meeting famous people. I always come away feeling like such a goof.

Anyway, we bought some records (wouldn’t want to break tradition), and then took these photos outside…

Then we walked to what we thought was the nearest Goodwill thrift store. It was here that it was so cold I cried. Don’t be deceived by the pictures, I realise they look super sunny and clear, but in reality, it was like, sunny death freeze. I know that’s not a real description. But it was so cold, I think I have permanent brain damage – which is keeping me from having the appropriate vocabulary to provide a good outline for you.

So, we braved the weather. The kind of weather that makes you cry, and makes cold clear and runny snot pour out of your nose. And we found the address where Goodwill was supposed to be. But it turns out that it wasn’t located there anymore. And If it were there, it wasn’t actually a store, just a small employment office. Oh so sad.

So, poor Oscar, the cold got so bad, we called him, and he came to pick us up. It was very nice of him, and I felt guilty on relying on him like this.

It is for this reason that I am looking forward to having a house of my own one day, so Dana and I can return all these lovely favours people have done for us, to other couchsurfers.

Later in the evening, my winter blues were cheered quite significantly. By a place called Robert’s Western World. Admittently, the only honky tonk bar I have been to, it was still certainly the greatest in the world.

The band let me take photos of them. Take note of Pappy with the fiddle – he (apparently) has a thing for redheads. “Even had two at once back in the day.” He looked over at Dana and slyly asked, “Is that your boyfriend??” When he found out Dana was in fact, my husband, I have never seen such an old person go such a shade of red.

At least I know I’ve still ‘got it’. Or maybe he just needed thicker glasses. I am sticking with the first.

It was a really really fun night.

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Vomit, Waffle House, and Phonoluxe

on January 21, 2011

Late Wednesday 05.01.2011 and Thursday 06.01.2011

After our first experience on Greyhound from NY to DC, I was a little less spooked than at first. However, after about two hours of the journey from Washington DC to Nashville Tennessee, my former expectations of Greyhound all but came true.

The bus driver stopped the bus and was letting passengers off, about two hours outside of DC. He placed a tick on his list for every person who got off. After a few minutes, he announced to the bus through his radio that there was still another passenger due to get off the bus. This sweet southern man, with his drawl, grey hair and cheeky jokes (something from a KFC commercial), quickly morphed into something with firey anger and voice akin to what one would picture King Trident to display.

“THERE IS STILL ANOTHER PERSON ON THIS BUS WHO SHOULD BE GETTING OFF. DON’T MAKE ME COME BACK THERE, NOW. BY GOD, I WILL FORCE YOU OFF THIS BUS!”

After a few seconds of silence, he stomped down the bus aisle, giving everyone a stiff glare, one by one. At this point, I was feeling rather confused and a bit sheepish. I had just woken from a fitful sleep; my nose and throat were dry and my neck was sore from me sleeping at a ridiculous angle. I am sure that there was a bit of drool on my cheek.

Suddenly, the bus driver started yelling, “GET OFF, GET THE F@%K OFF MY BUS BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE… NAWW, THAT IS JUST NASTY!!”

“What is nasty” you might ask?

Well, the stow-away turned out to be a very large man, who had imbibed pretty much an entire litre of very cheap vodka, that had vomited all over himself. And the floor near his feet. And the back of the seat in front of him. And the passenger sitting in the seat in front of him.

The bus driver violently escorted the gentleman off the bus, warning all the rest of the passengers to sit away from the aisles, as the man was still vomiting. It was at that moment, I cursed myself for sitting in the aisle seat. Dang it. But thankfully, the large man passed, vomit blowing in chunks, all over other passengers, seats and floor, but not on me.

After stumbling past me, toward the stairs of the bus, the man passed out, fell half down the stairs and landed with such a thud that we were shaken in our seats.

He then proceeded to exit the bus, into 4 degree C weather, and took his clothes off. He just stood there with his head against the wall. Poor fella. Gah.

The worst part of it all was the smell. It was a thick sour smell that lasted the next few hours of the trip, even though the bus had been cleaned by the driver.

After having a change over in some nondescript town, at some ungodly hour of the morning, the next bus trip (the last leg of our journey to Nashville) saw one of our mobile phones stolen. We weren’t having much luck with this bus thing. But at least now we have something to write home about. Right?

We arrived in at Nashville at 9am, and feeling slightly depressed (Greyhound will do that to you), we decided to send our next host, Oscar, a message to let him know we had arrived in Nashville. We had planned to catch a cab to his house. In about 12 seconds we received a reply saying that he would be there soon to pick us up.

WHAT IS WITH THESE NICE PEOPLE?!! Seriously… I am still being surprised at the kindness of strangers. It is so great.

Oscar arrived at the Greyhound terminal shortly, with wooley and wild hair, a half smoked hand-rolled cigarette in hand and a warm smile on his face. This picked up our spirits immensely.

Oscar then took us to what I call ‘postgreyhoundheaven’, or ‘Waffle House’ as some of the locals here call it. After not having eaten in about 22 hours, I was more than ready to munch on some grindage and to half drown myself in bottomless diner coffee. Oscar is great. A musician, intellectual, funny, cultured, (this is beginning to sound like a personals ad). Dana and I were immediately happy to be staying with him.

After Waffle House, Oscar took us back to his house to chill out for a while, and to meet his housemate, Chris. Also musician, intellectual, etc. etc. These guys are great. Their house is more like a pseudo recording studio. With wires, amps, and instruments all over, and mattresses up against the window in the kitchen to provide a buffer for the drums.

Oscar hoarding fixing things…

Backyard view.

After hanging about and chatting for a while, Oscar and Chris took Dana and I to Phonoluxe – a used record store. Dana was in ‘danaheaven’. He was at once turned into that squealing, excited seven year old. He wandered the store, gently turning through piles of dusty records, eyes wide. At moments like these, he is happy. I love seeing him like this.

Chris.

Oscar.

We finished the day back at Oscar and Chris’ house. Oscar made us a refired bean and cheese toasted sandwich, and I settled into our livingroom bed with my X men graphic novel (Errol, I know you’ll be proud).

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