Our Road Trip to Mississippi
This is Jordan | This is Dakota
THURSDAY, MARCH 12
About a month ago, Dakota and I decided to go on a road trip to Mississippi for spring break. It’s Thursday night and we were sitting in my living room when Dakota said something brilliant: “Wait, why don’t we just leave now instead of tomorrow?”
So we did. It was about 9 p.m. when we packed up my car, went to McDonald’s for a couple of coffees, and headed down south, stopping in Pennsylvania for the night.
FRIDAY, MARCH 13
When we left Pennsylvania only one thing was for sure, I was hungry and, I imagined that probably, Jordan was, too. We stopped at Panera, home of overpriced and undersized portions, pretentious wannabe hippies who eat all different kinds of bread, because a regular deli isn’t good enough, so that Jordan could order some kind of soup contraption because I guess it’s the Stone Age. But never mind all of that, the point is we went to Wendy’s so I could eat a reasonable man’s food and this pencil-necked halfwit in front of us in the drive-thru wouldn’t move his car. We were stuck because someone was also behind us, and the person behind us started honking his horn and yelling at us. Jordan politely reminded him that the person in front of us wouldn’t move, and the person behind us yelled, “Go around him!” Well, that was rather difficult when wedged between two cars, and that piece of crap is lucky we had a schedule to maintain because I would have shoved Wendy’s down his thin Pennsylvanian throat.
Yeah. Anyway, it was Friday the 13th. We went almost the whole day without bad luck – almost. We were in Tennessee, on our way to Knoxville to get some dinner, when Dakota got pulled over for going 84 in a 70.
“You were goin’ 84 in a 70,” the officer said upon arriving at the driver’s side window. “The guy next to you was goin’ 77. You were goin’ 84.”
Officer Bud Potts took a long, long time in his car behind us to do whatever it is cops do in their cars when they pull people over. He had us waiting so long that the sun had set and we had to turn on our headlights because it got so dark.
When Bud Potts finally came back to the car, he handed us a full-page ticket. Well, Dakota was pretty upset after that. But it was understandable: that was his second speeding ticket in two months.
In case anyone didn’t know, Alabama is basically one giant ghetto. I don’t want to offend anyone, but I also don’t care if I do because I’m right. That place was gross. We hit the border of Alabama and the car became low on gas. We had about 80 miles left in the tank and Jordan said we needed to get gas and I told her not to worry because we’d get off the next exit and get gas. However, a few minutes passed and there was no exit. Then a few more minutes passed. Did I mention it was late at night? We drove about 40 miles before coming to another exit. 40 miles of nothing. That puts us at 40 miles left in the tank. We got off that exit because there was a sign for a gas station. That “town” we arrived in was empty, and I don’t just mean empty of people. There was nothing. There weren’t any buildings. It was desolate. Because of the sea of NOTHING I could see a single gas station on a giant, unlit hill. Or as I called it: Bates Gas Station. We drove to it and it was clearly not open.
Jordan was nervous, so I humored her. I got out of the car and closed the door. She immediately locked the doors. You know, just in case someone tried to kill us, that way only I would get killed. I stood there in the dark, with the pump, pulling the lever as nothing came out. We drove another 30 miles with no exits until we got to Birmingham. That place was gross. We stopped at the gas station and Birmingham’s border must be a time portal because we entered the 1970s. There were multiple crews at the gas station and everyone looked like a criminal. Everyone stared at me as I tried to the pump the gas until the serial-killer-looking Asian gas station attendant came out and told me I was doing it wrong. That night we stayed in a motel attached to a 24-hour Waffle House.
SUNDAY, MARCH 15
We arrived in Mississippi later Saturday afternoon and fell asleep before 10 p.m., but Sunday was the designated day to visit New Orleans. It meant spending almost $9 for a grenade – a wonderfully mixed drink that consists of gin, grain alcohol, melon liqueur, rum, and vodka put into tall plastic cups with an alien face on them. As I learned, if you get one of those into your system, you’ll be craving another within an hour and end up spending $30 total with a collection of alien cups in your hands.
I can’t say that I remember the details of this day too well, except that my mother introduced us to her friend Bruce who was from the area and also extremely well-versed in his Prada shoes and gay bars. We visited the St. Louis Cathedral, and in its park, artists set up their guitars, paintings, and magic tricks for the public to see.
Dakota and I bought some art.
It’s true. Jordan bought paintings from an old Chinese man. She smiled at everything he said and pretended to understand him. I thought this was hilarious because at that point in her day she couldn’t understand most English. I don’t think the man cared because he sold her two paintings. They had really big beers in New Orleans. Those should be the sizes of all beers.
Bruce was awesome because he bought us drinks, too. Shout out to Bruce.
FRIDAY, MARCH 20
Our last day in Mississippi was a relaxing one because we went to the beach and went swimming. It was the perfect send off. The water was very shallow and Jordan and I were walking. It was so romantic that Jordan said, “Carry me!” So I picked her up and walked until I stepped on this weird goo at the ocean floor and I fell and threw her in the water. She screamed and tried dragging me down with her. It was her or me who was going down, and I wasn’t gonna let it be me.
SATURDAY, MARCH 21
We left around 12:30 in the afternoon. It was bittersweet and the 19-hour car ride home was not something that I was looking forward to.
I couldn’t wait to get back to that cold Connecticut air that I love so much. People have been complaining about the snow and the cold, but I say, “Don’t you have bigger things to worry about in your life?”
