Crispi, the kids, and I have recently returned from what must surely be the strangest trip/mini-vacation of my life.
The original objective: to drive to Philadelphia, Mississippi to reunite with family and expose my children to the Neshoba County Fair. The Fair is a big damn deal, y’all. It’s even on Wikipedia. It’s one of those crazy, surreal, mind bending things that you either love or hate. Given the huge degree of hoopla associated with this event, the intention had been to come in early Thursday evening pre-Fair-opening and stay the night in my aunt’s Fair cabin before moving to a nearby motel where we – especially Stella- could chill, regroup, and swim.
What really happened: my kids are just a wee bit too young. That and Stella may take after her mother in that the whole thing is just a lot to take in. It’s overwhelming. And did you notice I said it was in Mississippi? And it’s late July? That means it’s “oh shit it’s so hot I’ve perspired enough in 5 minutes that my bra now contains a liter of fluid. I pity the fool that hugs me” hot.
We basically kind of fled. What made matters worse was the hotel room: nasty. *cough cough Econolodge cough*. And since we were in the boonies, it’s not like we could just try the hotel across the street. So we left. Checked out 2 days early, hit the Fair for one more session so that Stella could at least ride some rides, wrung out our bras, and set sail for Jackson, MS.
Our Jackson objective: stay in a nicer motel with a pool in which you could see the bottom, maybe hit a museum, and go back to the Fair late Sunday when it was less crazy/crowded and stay at the cabin again.
What actually happened: our bras dried. And we didn’t want to be back out in the middle of BFE again in that heat. So by bedtime that night in Jackson, we were going to maybe hit a museum and head back to good old Baton Rouge.Yeah, only that didn’t quite happen either. When we woke Sunday, we totally decided that we should go to Biloxi. So we did. The kids got to see a beach – albeit a gross one (while the sand is pretty, the water is hideous due to barrier islands which trap all dirt and trash) and swim in yet another pool and sleep in yet another bed.
Summary: 4 nights, 4 beds, 3 cities, 3 pools, no fewer than 9 adjusted/discarded plans. We all survived and I’m nominating myself for the “Go With the Flow” award. For someone who hates spontaneity, I managed 4 rather tenuous days nicely. I’ll accept a ribbon, plaque, or a trophy.