My husband had to fly to Maine for a bachelor party last weekend which meant I’d be all by myself for a few days. So when I learned he’d be going, I decided it was the ideal time to take a road trip and I settled on Oxford, Mississippi and Memphis, Tennessee (the former for Faulkner and the latter because everyone said I should go). I had two months to plan the four-day road trip and when the time finally came for me to head out, I have to admit I was a little nervous. I had never driven hundreds of miles by myself anywhere, let alone in a totally new area where I’m still trying to figure out the freeway system; part of me was certain I’d take the wrong exit and end up in Kansas. Still, I took the plunge along with my trusty GPS device which I will hence forth refer to as Alice.
After six hours driving, listening to radio stations warning me that I should embrace Jesus or prepare for Hell and some trouble with Alice (she wanted me to go to Nashville real bad; not sure if she has a lover there or what, but it took me about 30 minutes to convince her to go towards Birmingham) I arrived in Oxford, Mississipi. The tiny college town (home to Ole Miss) is really quaint with a pretty square in the middle of town. After taking a second shower for the day (thanks humidity), I found a place for dinner. Brandon had suggested that I find a casual spot with a bar so I could watch TV to occupy myself. Well, he didn’t count on me encountering a man named Kink (his nickname from college where apparently he was really popular with the ladies).
Nearly as soon as I planted my rear-end at the bar, two middle-aged men sat down near me and ordered two shots. As I was looking at the menu, the guy closest to me pushed one of the shots towards me and said “You’ll have to take this for me. I just can’t.” I politely declined as the two men then began to bicker about who was going to take it. They then proceeded to give me all sorts of advice about the menu and things to see in Oxford, etc. I’m fairly naive so I figured they were just being friendly (keep in mind that I hadn’t caught Kink’s name, yet).
After about an hour, a married couple, friends of theirs, arrived. The husband was a Southern lit professor which was awesome since I was SO excited to see the Faulkner house. But soon our conversation was cut short by the wife who sidled up to me to let me know about Kink. She told me his nickname, that he was a notorious cheat (he’s married) and that he had texted them about “a cute blond” he’d met–apparently that was me. So I paid my tab and bid them a good night. On the way back to my room I figured it was going to be an interesting trip!
And it truly was. I toured the William Faulkner House (one of my favorite authors), visited his grave, drove to Memphis, saw the hotel where Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot, stayed in the Peabody hotel, went to Beal Street, heard some blues, met really interesting, nice people, saw Graceland, visited the Civil Rights memorial in Birmingham, drove past the Talladega Race Way, saw the house that Elvis was born in and generally got more acquainted with the South. Now I have a much better understanding of the history and people of this region–oh, and I’ll steer clear of guys names Kink from now on.