The Great Southern Odyssey and Gonzo Roadtrip

What follows are excerpts from the Captain's Log of IL PFJ-570,
a record of my voyage to Meridian, Mississippi to visit with my
buddy Paul. He's a LTJG in the Navy, learning to fly jets.
Because I'm a low-tech kinda page maker, I did not provide you
with the appropriate music. However, allow me to suggest the
following music to listen to while reading this page:
Paul Simon, "Graceland", from Graceland
Fastball, "The Way", from All the Pain Money Can Buy
My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, "Sexy Sucker", from A Crime for
All Seasons
Waylon Jennings, "An Old Unreconstructed", from Songs of the Civil
War
Harold Faltermeyer & Steve Stevens, "Top Gun Anthem", from The Top
Gun Soundtrack (Don't kill me for that, Paul.)

Captain's Log, IL PFJ-570


05.15.98.0430 This is way too early, in a severe and painful
sort of manner. I've gotten only 4 hours of sleep, but nonetheless
am now going to get in my car and drive to Meridian, Mississippi.
The distance is estimated at 830 miles. I throw my bag in the car,
add a bunch of CDs, a twelve pack of Mountain Dew, and a package of
Pop Tarts and I'm on my way.
1030 Driving through St Louis, Missouri on I-55 was obviously
a very large tactical error. I get a lovely view of the arch, yes,
but only manage to stay on the highway through a combination of sheer
luck and caffeine-driven driving skill. Once I've gotten through the
mess I stop at a Dairy Queen and scarf down a cheeseburger to fortify
me for further driving.
1230 I think the cheeseburger was a tactical mistake, too. I
am forced to stop for a nap. I wake up at 1300 sweltering hot and get
back on the road.
1800 The interstate is killing me. I'm so bored from staring
at it that I think I may have heart palpitations to break up the
monotony. To stave off any such notion, I scout out a county road that
looks to cut about 50 miles off my trip, and accordingly turn off on
it. After an hour of scenic, pleasant driving on a nicely maintained
two-lane road, I hit I-20 eastbound only 40 miles from Meridian and
forge onward.
2030 I have checked into my pleasant hotel, taken a shower,
called my mom, and contacted Paul. He arrives at my door so that we
can go out for catfish. He is obviously the anti-Top Gun. Contrary
to popular perception of Naval Aviators he completely fails to be
cocky, arrogant, or annoying. We proceed onward in a quest for
catfish. After the catfish, we hit D.T. Grinders, a pub in the
upstairs of a lovely antebellum mansion. The first thing we see upon
entering is a guy who must be a pilot, because he's making swooping
hand gestures to illustrate some move he made in the air for two other
military looking guys and a couple simpering women. I think this is
funny as hell. Paul is mortified.

05.16.98.1200 Paul and I rendezvous again for breakfast at Cracker
Barrel. Paul looks very dubious when ordering his food. I attempt to
explain the importance of a good breakfast involving catfish, eggs,
biscuits, and gravy, but I don't think I convinced him in the least.
1330 We begin the tour of cemetaries with a Confederate States
of America cemetary for the unknown dead of the Confederate Army.
Marble markers in front of the graves tell the story of Sherman's
March to the Sea, and the American flag flies overhead. I almost
manage to catch a lizard, but my skills have deteriorated from disuse.
Next stop is a little cemetary in the town of Marion, Mississippi. It
contains graves dating from the Civil War era to present. We poke
around there for quite some time, reading markers and tracing family
histories.
1830 We go to dinner at Jean's Red Door Barbecue, a bona fide
barbecue shack in the middle of nowhere. Paul claims to be afraid of
it. Feeling intrepid, I herd him into the restaurant, which is only
the front two rooms of a house. The man at the register is almost
aggressively friendly, and accuses us of being married. The food,
however, is EXCELLENT. In fact, I have a transcendental
experience while eating my sandwich, slaw, and barbecue beans. Paul
even manages to look less dubious.
1930 The last stop on the tour of cemetaries is another CSA
cemetary for the unknown dead. We sit on a bench and fritter the time
away, watching the fireflies come out. A very pleasant and laid-back
Southern Gentleman of a dog comes and sits on the bench with us. We
leave when the mosquitoes begin eating us alive.
2200 The media fast of 2 days ends as we decide to pick up
a little alcohol and venture to my hotel room to take advantage of the
cable TV. While mildly inebriated and watching a documentary on fire
fighters, we become immensely amused by the phrase "We seem to have a
problem with flowing gasoline."

05.17.98.1130 The alcohol may have been a tactical error. I wake
up feeling pretty miserably hung over. I wish I had an alcohol
tolerance. Food would be good, but I don't want to move.
1245 EUREKA! I realize that I can order a pizza and the nice
pizza people will bring it right to my door. With as much gleefulness
as it is possible to muster when feeling suspiciously like I'm about
to die, I manage to order a pizza.
1340 Paul and the pizza are both here. He looks about as badly
off as I am, which only adds to the whole anti-Top Gun image. In
fact, I'm not sure he can be allowed to fly jets without learning to
act more like Tom Cruise's character in that wonderful 80's movie.
We happily consume pizza and watch the Hitler's Henchmen series on A&E.
We are forced to change channels when the episode on Doring, the leader
of Hitler's navy, comes on and multiple pictures of sinking ships and
bobbing sailors are shown on screen. We end up frittering the day
away, doing nothing in particular other than making a cautious foray
or two for food.

05.18.98.0900 I take my leave of Paul and Mississippi, heading north
to Paducah Kentucky to visit my grandmother. The drive is mainly
uneventful, with the exception of a trucker named "Snapshot" giving me
the handle "Snakebite," and a guy driving a semi full of bread who
follows me for 30 miles trying to get me to stop and have a beer with
him.

05.19.98.1900 I accompany my grandmother to hear my great-uncle's
country & western band play. They dedicate "The Green, Green Grass of
Home" to me, and I dance with my 80+ year old great-great uncle. It
was more fun than most people would expect.

05.20.98 I spend the entire day on my grandmother's front porch,
frittering the time away smoking and whittling. It's so entirely tranquil
and peaceful that I dread leaving the next day.

05.21.98.1100 I get in my car to drive home, the Great Southern
Odyssey and Gonzo Roadtrip at an end. The drive is peaceful, crawling
with cops on the interstate, and no more truckers try to ask me for a
date. I arrive back in DeKalb, Illinois, around 1730, and settle in to
wait for basic training to arrive.


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