Well, the first day is almost complete. A long day's drive... 10 1/2 hours of steady driving, with only a few stops for gas and nourishment. If you can call a (almost) grilled chicken sandwich and under cooked french fries nourishment. Still, they filled a empty spot in my gut.
And so we arrived at the shabby little hotel in Biloxi, the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. A nice room, a freebie thanks to Faye's gambling habit and the bad economy, with a three head shower, Wi-Fi internet connection (so I can sit here in the bed and wander about the internet while watching Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck save the planet from a comet on FX on a 42" plasma... or LCD...whatever screen), a comfy king-sized bed with lots of pillows, and a casino where Faye is stalking that elusive prey... the Jackpot.
The Hard Rock is a study in nostalgic silliness and denial. It is full of 50 and 60 -somethings pretending not to be what they are and transporting themselves mentally back to what they probably never were. All the images of aging rock stars (some no longer with us) from those heady days of the 60's. And moving among them the pudgy, pot-bellied, butt-sagging aging `never were' Hippies in Sears loose-fit designer jeans instead of snug bell bottom Levis. Eric Burden and the Animals will be playing here next week, all white haired and wrinkled, reliving the dream. I don't want to see them. I have my memories of a concert in Pasadena (though they are drug-fogged) and that's enough.
I saw my image in the mirror and wondered who that aging guy was for a moment and then, sadly, recognized him.
No pictures of the trip so far. Faye would have had to take them while I dodged the bad drivers and threaded my way through the traffic. The bad drivers were out as usual, driving slow in the fast lane, playing "rolling blockade" with whoever happened to be next to them, and just annoying the heck out of me. You bad drivers know who you are, mostly the ones with G E O R G I A on your license plates. Well, and your first cousins from Louisiana. They all seemed to be heading home from Speed Week in Daytona Beach after almost sobering up.
No, Pearl, I didn't see any square-heads from Minnesota driving along, just their southern relatives.
Tomorrow, we wander along the southern swamps and off into the great dusty west Texas hills before stopping for the night again. Maybe some pctures if I can convince Faye she can take them while zooming along somewhat above the speed limit or we stop someplace of interest.
For now, though, it's calm the frayed nerves. Quiet the jittering in my brain. Hope for dreams that do not involve highways and traffic. Only to wake, grab some greasy breakfast somewhere and head ever west.
A Night Unremembered
6 years ago