I got a rental van. It arrived a bit later than it should, so we left precisely 14 minutes after I wanted to. But, still, getting on the road at 3:46 when you were hoping for 3:32 isn’t bad when you consider you’re pulling in six people’s schedules and the general We’ll be there at 2:30 or 3:15-ness of the rental car guy.
We live in an amazing time if you think of it. I looked at glowing words on this flat screen, picked up a hunk of plastic and called a hotel, booked four rooms, found more words on the screen and made arrangements for a rental van. (Of course they called me in return three times, but that’s trivial.) I arranged all of the paperwork, procured the department’s blessing, recruited four students and a colleague, made them all sign the inevitable waivers and now we are bouncing all over western Alabama, Mississippi and western Tennessee.
Here we’d stopped for gas in Tupelo:
Brother, if your tank is low you better stop in Tupelo. It is a long walk in either direction if it purrs, conks and dies.
Our rental performed admirably, even with a distinct twang in Tennessee as we drove on the Rockabilly Highway, a 55-mile stretch of Highway 45, from Mississippi to Interstate 40. Look, I’m the guy who always wonders about the stories behind the names we put on roads, who regularly rides the actual Lost Highway and still does it with wonderment. So believe me, being on something called the Rockabilly Highway was pretty great.
Apparently there are Rockabilly murals here and there along the Rockabilly Highway, but it was dark and raining — which sounds like a song in of itself — so we didn’t see any. Shame that highway doesn’t stretch into Mississippi, though. Jumpin’ Gene Simmons was from Tupelo:
That video is understated and terrific, except our disc jockey didn’t walk it all the way up to the post. Everything else is perfect.
Anyway, we made it to beautiful and cosmopolitan Jackson, Tenn. around 8 p.m., just in time to register for the Southeast Journalism Conference. It runs tomorrow and Saturday and is a good trip for the undergraduates. They hear inspirational messages from talented professionals, met peers, eat free food, win awards and so on.
We had dinner at a place called Redbone’s right across from our hotel. They made a nice Casear Salad, and one of the students complimented their ribs. The band was good, if loud. And then they did a Beatles’ song that might have been a bit ambitious for two guys running their percussion through a keyboard. But they did enjoy themselves, and seemed to know they did Sweet Baby James just right.
Checked into the hotel mostly uneventfully. Everyone crashed into their rooms. I ironed in mine. Very exciting night, really. But tomorrow will be a busy day.
