Columbus, Mississippi (Part One)

This post makes more sense after reading A Fond Look Back at the Welty Symposium post first. Then Part Two after this Part One. If you're indulging me, that is. :)

It’s true what they say. You can’t go home again.

Most of the drive here was beautiful! The leaves in the mountains of Kentucky, especially. Not quite at peak, but enough for my foliage fix. With the good, comes the bad. I had to drive through Alabama this time. Alabama is not my favorite state in the union. In fact, I don't think they realize they actually ARE part of the union. Being raised in Georgia, I'm obligated to live my life according to the unwritten state law that requires participation in at least ten Alabama jokes every year. Despite moving away from Georgia eight years ago, I have yet to have a problem meeting quota.

So, I was driving toward the Alabama/Mississippi state line on Highway 82 when I came upon an unexpected sign: TOLL AHEAD. It made no sense. I was in the middle of nowhere. There were signs about Tuscaloosa, but I never saw any signs of it. When I reached the booth (of course there were no exact change lanes), I asked, “Collecting for what?” 

She opened her mouth, as if she might speak, but let out what can only be likened to a monkey giggle.

I repeated (because it’s kind of fun and you just can’t help yourself), “Seriously, where do the funds go?” She said she didn’t know. I’d like to think she went home and looked it up or made a mental note to ask a co-worker, but <imagine sound of me snorting> the likelihood of that is as remote as she was.

Anyway, the closer I got to Columbus, the fewer cars I saw, even though it was prime 5 o'clock traffic time. I counted two cars and NO trucks in my rear-view mirror when I made the Military Road exit.

But this morning, from 5am to 7am??? All I have heard is truck after truck after truck after truck. At times, it sounds like they’re coming in the room. How can that be? Maybe they’re all heading further west, where I wouldn’t have seen them driving into town? It makes sense, because East is Alabama, after all, and nobody in their right mind would purposefully head in that direction.

There is also a critical gas station/convenience store next door to the hotel. So, I hear lots of air brakes (isn’t that right?) followed by backup beeps followed sometimes by idling or sometimes full-blown re-start-ups.

I keep telling myself to be thankful for the trucks in this world. They bring us stuff. Apparently, Columbus needs lots of stuff or has lots of stuff that needs to be taken to other people first thing in the morning.

But, it’s all trivial and laughable, really. Austin is safe and had a good report from the doctor yesterday, and, despite renting a hearse, I must have driven in-between all the terrible storms yesterday.

And at last night’s opening ceremonies, Ellen Douglas read from her books and closed by saying, “Thank ya’ll for being so proud of me.”

That was worth the 5am wake-up call. That, and there’s a Waffle House (the real kind, not the kind north of the MD line) down the road.

Living on Tulip Time

I’ve been home for three days now from my long-weekend getaway to Tulip Time in Holland, Michigan and I’m really regretting not taking pictures. Not because it was beautiful or memorable, but because it’s already funny.

I want to remember the hotel in the middle of a strip mall parking lot. I want to remember the hotel room next to the elevator (it was in the wall in front of the bathroom). I want to remember the yellow laundry baskets that the housekeeping staff continuously banged against my door at 7am. I want to remember the Dutch Village, which was advertised as a quaint little shopping and learning experience of all things Dutch, but was actually a refurbished putt-putt golf place. The castle towers on each side of the driveway connected by an arch with paper letters. The highway on one side. The tire/muffler shop on the other.

And the Art Fair in the downtown postage-stamp-sized park. It was obviously the only thing to do in the entire state of Michigan that day, because I’ve never seen so many people. And they appeared to be folks who had saved their loose change all year, brushed a tooth or two, and donned their best overalls just for the event.

Ahhh, and the tulips. Couldn't see any at the Art Fair - too many bodies. Saw a few driving by the putt-putt-dutch place, but I see more in my neighbor's flower beds. I saw a few lined up single file on the edges of a few downtown streets, but I didn't find any beds or fields or congregated tulips anywhere. I tried again Monday thinking I had to be missing them. But it was trash day in Holland, so there they were again - single file and at attention - but this time separated by big city trash cans. Ten little tulip soldiers…..big city trash can…..ten little tulip soldiers…...big city trash can, after another, after another, after another. This vision I want to remember most.

I have to give credit to a few positives, though. I was given a free rental car upgrade because they were out of the cheap model I had reserved, so I enjoyed playing with all the buttons and gadgets. I drove (figured staying in the car as much as possible was the best option) to Grand Rapids, which was the nicest and cleanest downtown I’ve seen in a while. I saw Lake Michigan and got a much needed, but too brief, Cancerian water fix. And I did dine alone three times peacefully and proudly, until lunch at the last restaurant where an old man stared at me over his wife’s shoulder the entire time. I tried to eat with my mouth open, I tried blowing my nose at the table more than once, I tried staring back to make him look away first, which he never did. I thought about unleashing a boob and plopping it on the table, which as luck would have it was at just about the right height, but he was eating his lunch and I didn’t want him to lose it over my naked boob. That’s how I am: still trying to be kind even when staring old-rude-man adversity in the face.

This was my second and, I feel confident saying last visit to the West coast of Michigan. It will just have to carry on without me from now on. So, so long Michigan!! I know you’ll miss me as much as I’ll miss you.