Texas - The Missing Chapter

There was one major incident that was hidden from the archives during Mine and Evan's trip to Texas. An incident that was kept between those involved for the sake of ease, to prevent the same questions being asked over and over from numerous parties. The plan was to sort it out between us, sweep it all under the carpet, then mention it to those who may want to know the details once it's all done and dusted. Unfortunately we live in the days of the internet and things cropped up earlier than planned. On the bright side, I can tell whoever reads this blog earlier than I planned to. 

Whilst in Austin, Texas, Evan got a little worse for wear. How was I aware of this? He would position himself at a table next to a dustbin to spit into as water would occasionally fill his mouth involuntarily. Evan needed to go back to the car. Meanwhile, I had the taste, I was ready for the night out. 

"Evan, are you ok?"

Austin Early In The Evening

"I need to go back."

"I'll walk you."

"No, no. You stay and have fun."

"Do you even know where the car is?"

"Yeah, it's just round the corner."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I might be drunk, but I know my way around."

"Promise me that you're ok to go back alone."

"Promise." 

And that was it, Evan disappeared back to the car to sleep it off via a trip to the pizza shop, whilst I drank with the locals, who didn't actually seem to be drinking I noticed. At kicking out time the streets were heaving with people posing, chatting, or hooking up. In amongst all of these was a single English lad asking whoever would listen where I could get another beer from. Most thought I was faking an accent and told me to go away in a rather impolite fashion. Finally giving up in the attempt to find more beer I headed back to the car. No Evan. I ring his mobile, no answer. I notice however, that the boots he was wearing are in the car. He definitely made it back, but for some reason left. I continued to ring his phone but nothing.

I wait for half an hour or so before heading out back into the centre in search. I must have walked down every back alley in Austin looking for a black and blue version of Evan. I was also aware that numerous times, I would be followed by two gentlemen as I walked down a shifty dark alley alone. I also believe that someone tried to pick me up thinking I was a rent boy as a large truck pulled up alongside me asking if I'm ok or something along those lines. As I carried on walking I heard a shout,

"Hey White Boy!" Now this particular weekend, there weren't many white people, let alone at stupid o'clock in the morning. I turn around.

"You better run, the police are following you."

"Me? Why?"

"You just Jaywalked."

Turns out that you can't cross a level crossing when the sign says no even when there isn't a car within a square mile. As I walked, the Police disappeared. I must have a sober walk.

Evan's Official Mugshot

Now at this time in the night/morning the streets are littered with homeless begging and sleeping in the streets. Unfortunately I have no sense of direction and would have to revert to the local bums for directions, always at a price. After feeling confident that I'd covered a section of town, I would get a personal guide back to the car park we were stationed to see if Evan had returned. He hadn't. Off out I go again to cover another section. Same result, no Evan, same result, paid escort back to the car, same result, no Evan. I continued to call his phone but still no answer. As my battery died I tried to find a payphone, to find out that America doesn't do pay phones. I asked a local policeman where the nearest pay phone was, just for another homeless man to volunteer his services to take me, the policeman told me to go with him. The phone didn't work. I must have paid a small fortune to the homeless people of Austin for directions that night.

Returning to the car with the worst chaffing, and blisters on my feet I sit next to the car and fall asleep for an hour or so. Still no Evan. Underneath the car park is a little convenience store, I walked in and asked if it was possible to borrow a phone charger and explained my story. The man, Elmer, and his friend whose name escapes me, were more than helpful. They offered me water, offered me food, let me use his phone to call the police stations, hospitals to see if he was there. Same result, no Evan. I waited whilst talking to Elmer who was originally from Pennsylvania but his father was in the forces so he moved around as a kid and loved Austin that much that he stayed. He asked about my history and when I told him I used to be a Cabinet Maker, he replied, "Ooooh you must be very good with your hands then?" The way he said this made me a little uncomfortable as it was obvious that he was gay. 

With my phone partially charged I thank him and leave to try and search for him again, limping in my new cowboy boots due to all the blisters. Realising that he can't go anywhere without his car I return to find him reading a note I left on the window wiper. 

"Where the hell have you been?" I shout,

"Where have I been? Where have I been? I've been locked up with Green Mile that's where I've been."

"What?"

"I spent the night in the cells with a big black man the police called Green Mile."

Green Mile Reference

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, they woke me up in the car, talked to me for half an hour or so, admired my knife, told me to put my shoes on which I did balancing on one foot, then cuffed me and put me in the back of their car."

"On what grounds?"

"Public intoxication, apparently they don't need to do a sobriety test in Texas, a girl was locked up for petting a police horse. Then again, I slept on my pizza and they thought the stain was sick."

"Who's Green Mile?"

"Oooh, a big black guy who was going crazy. They had to lock him up properly, we were just in a waiting room really. The police just kept shouting, Green Mile, shut the hell up."

"What's the result?"

"I have a court case on Wednesday." (today is easter sunday by the way)

As we get in the car and leave we wonder how much our ticket is going to be as we had been there over 24 hours. Luckily a group of girls waiting for a friend had an automatic pass that they used to let us through for free. Silver clouds and all that. When I took my boots off, it looked like I had an additional toe due to the size of the blister on the inside of my little toe. I asked Evan if his rear was ok after a night with Green Mile. Apparently, despite not being used, he thinks that because Green Mile sat next to him, the others thought that he was his property so left him alone. That and a Mexican kid was bleeding all over the floor next to him. 

After staying at his Aunt and Uncles for a couple of days in Dallas, we returned to Austin for Evan's court case. Turns out they could have transferred it to a Connecticut court, just to rub salt in the wound. The result, a fine, an online alcohol abuse course, and so many hours community service. All for sleeping in a car with the door propped because it was too hot and a nosey security guard that rang the police.

Road Trip To Texas - Day 4 & 5

Jack Daniel's Visitor Centre

Waking up in a Nashville car park early in the morning to a bird singing in my ear hole was not the best start to the day and it was told in the most polite way possible to sod off. After grabbing a bite to eat at the local fast food joint we set off to Lynchburg for an education tour, this time we were to learn the history of Mr Jack Daniel's. 

Lynchburg is a very small town of 5-6 thousand people and there is nothing to do here; something the distillery tells us at the beginning of the tour. The reason being that they don't want anything to 

distract them from their whiskey making. As we approached the visitors centre we were welcomed with Jack Daniel's rocking chairs and used barrels everywhere. Upon opening the door we were inundated with information regarding the history of the drink and how it's made. The funny thing however is that the county in which Lynchburg is situated is dry so we weren't allowed any free tasters. The fact that it was Easter Sunday didn't exactly help either.

Our tour guide was a guy called Dusty and couldn't be anymore stereotypically southern if he tried. Wearing his dungarees and JD baseball cap, Dusty slurred his words and often forgot what he was talking about. He picked his ears as he talked and made numerous hand gestures when he couldn't think of the right word. It turns out that he works at the local elementary school as a teacher during the week and he does the tours at weekends. I guess it is very much a family thing as his grandfather was the master distiller in his day. 

Leaving Lynchburg we headed south to Birmingham, Alabama. On the journey I learned on the radio that the white man is enslaved and must be freed by the black man. Apparently the black man is the most unforgiving of men and needs to let go of the past and let free the white man. As the two presenters were discussing this very odd subject an email came in asking them about latinos. The answer was that he wasn't aware that they were enslaved but they must concentrate on freeing the white man first. The reason for this is that there is no country in the world that is run well by a non white male. If your country is run by anything other than a white male, it isn't run correctly. When they tried to think of a hispanic country that was led well they came up with Spain. I was astounded that they allowed this on the radio.

Arriving in Alabama it was noticeable that the road kill got a little bigger. No longer were there racoons on the side of the road, but dogs. A lot of dogs. Entering Birmingham at 5pm was strange, it was like a zombie film. The streets were deserted, the wind picked up just enough for the traffic lights to swing in the air, and all the buildings were derelict. The first sign of life was a queue of homeless people waiting for the shelter to open up. Looking for somewhere to eat we had a look at the 100 places to eat in Alabama leaflet we picked up at the welcome centre. Setting Phoney to the destination we were taken to yet another derelict building with no sign of life. Trying to get out of the city was simple as you could stop in the middle of the road, look up directions and have no need to worry that you are in the way as we were the only car on the streets.

Leaving Alabama we headed to New Orleans for some jazz and blues music. Despite the smell of sewage invading your nostrils every now and then, it really is a pretty place. As we wandered around Bourbon Street we noticed that you are allowed to drink in the street and that pubs had little window bars for you to order to take away. The homeless people here, and there are a lot of them, were loving it as they sat in the sun and drank the days away. They don't even try to hide their habits as they would bluntly ask for money for beer or weed; honesty is the best policy. One particular homeless man shouted to Evan that he always has been, will be, and currently is absolutely, utterly, and completely wasted. Then he fell over.

Wikipedia

New Orleans

La Nouvelle-Orléans (New Orleans) was founded May 7, 1718, by the French Mississippi Company, under the direction of Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville, on land inhabited by the Chitimacha. It was named for Philippe d'Orléans, Duke of Orléans, who was Regent of France at the time. His title came from the French city of Orléans. The French colony was ceded to the Spanish Empire in the Treaty of Paris (1763). During the American Revolutionary War, New Orleans was an important port to smuggle aid to the rebels, transporting military equipment and supplies up the Mississippi River. Bernardo de Gálvez y Madrid, Count of Gálvez successfully launched the southern campaign against the British from the city in 1779. New Orleans remained under Spanish control until 1801, when it reverted to French control. Nearly all of the surviving 18th century architecture of the Vieux Carré (French Quarter) dates from this Spanish period. (The most notable exception being the Old Ursuline Convent.) Napoleon sold the territory to the United States in the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Thereafter, the city grew rapidly with influxes of Americans, French, Creoles, Irish, Germans and Africans. Major commodity crops of sugar and cotton were cultivated with slave labor on large plantations outside the city.