I've done nothing but beach time since I've been here in Mississippi since May. I strolled the news paper (a delightful old-fashioned source of information) and came across a jazz festival in Mobile, Alabama that happened last night.
I called the only gal I knew in Sippi, (We'll call her Georgia) and the stars must have alligned that day.
She was available to go to a jazz festival with me and I actually had the means to go.
We get to Mobile and found the sketchy run-down looking victorian-style house that the festival was happening in. We were thrown off a bit when we got inside. We decided to wear pants and a cute tee, as not to look over dressed- turns out we were underdressed. It was a ritsy bunch, women in their Southern best, floppy hats, and gaudy jewelry, while most men either wearing a button up with black slacks or a pressed polo. Oh yeah, just a wee bit underdressed.
But jazz is jazz. And when we got in, found out that Jumbalaya, baked mac n' cheese, eggplant casserole, and tons of other deliciousness were to be served for the occasion.
We piled our little bowels and plates, finishing off with strawberry shortcake and enjoyed our stay. The band consisted of a piano player, tuba player, and a surprano sax player, all very talented in the arts of jazz and rag time.
Everythign felt right. Finally, a time to just chill out and enjoy the company of a friend. Then of course, the occasional flirting of a gentleman sitting a a table next to us. That's another story.
So the festival ended and we were wanting to explore more of the town. The pretty buiildings and their lights were too much to leave too soon. Then I saw an underground tunnel- one I recognized from the year prior that lead to where a cousin lives.
We drove into the tunnel, enjoying the bright yellow lights, then turned around and went back.
"What is this song and who does it? I've heard it but a few times before but I really like it!"Georgia asked.
I turn up the volume a bit in the car,"Home, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros."
We get to the end of the tunnel, and I decided we should go right, back into the city part of town. I slowed down quite a bit from the 45 speed limit, only going about 15 now to turn at the green light. Had I known there was a lane paralleling the tunnel, I might have looked a second time to see that I was in the clear.
A loud boom sound and next thing I knew, I was on the curb on the street that I was turning to and there was a maroon car that I'd hit that was on the street further up from me.
"You okay?" Georgia asked, "Yeah, you?" "Yeah."
She immediately got out of the car to go check the other vehicle. I followed suit, grabbing my phone and dialing 911. We walked up to see a dark skinned gentleman.
I think both of us blushed a little... who wouldn't? The guy was gorgeous!
He said he bumped his head, I told dispatchers where we were located, and in less than ten minutes two police vehicles arrived.
"I am so sorry, " I began apologizing.
"I slowed when I saw you coming. It's okay it's okay," and he smiled a little. Mmm.
Georgia also apologized, hoping he was okay. "I'll be fine, it's just too bad we had to meet in such circumstances," he replied to her.
"You're car looks okay except for some scratches," Georgia said.
"Yeah, and my car is a little bitch who can't take a punch." I said, making him smile a little again.
Pretty soon a fire truck showed up with some medics to check him out. Then a tow truck to take my car away. What was once an empty street was beginning to fill with random pedestrians who were 'just walking by' and when they saw there was nothing to marvel at, walked away once more.
Oh, you're curious as to the damages?
Well, indeed, his car was just scratches. No headlight damage, no real dents from what we saw.
My car? Like a finger flicking plastic. The metal above the passenger wheel is dented in and smashed on the tire. No lights busted, the car still runs, no flat tire, no airbags deployed...
My car had to get towed because of something simple a crowbar can shimmy out. I understand, proceedure, proceedure...
At least the cops were nice. "Are you from Montana?" The policeman asked. I had a Jeff Foxworthy's There's your Sign moment when he asked that. I really wanted to say, "Nope. Just have a Montana driver's license and plates for shits and giggles." I didn't.
I just cocked my head at him and started laughing. His other cop buddy exchanged glances at him like I was high.
Before you know it, Georgia and I were telling them our life stories of how we're from the south, moved to the north - each of us- and it's all coincidence how we seperately ended up in Mississippi and got to the jazz concert tonight.
Then the cops started joking with us, "There's nothing to do in the north is there?"
"Nothing." I said.
"Well, depending on what you like!" Georgia said, defending her notherners.
"Hiking. And snow." I said.
"Haha, must not have road signs up in Montana." A cop joked.
Little does he know ladies and gents... littles does he know...
The po po ended up taking us to a Mickey D's until we could find out who was to rescue us at 10:30 in the evening. Oh yeah, best part? We rode in the back. Bars and all. I got to film it, and when I have means of getting it on youtube, it will be up.
About 30 minutes later, cousin Juju comes to save the day. She takes us back to my Mema's and I drive Georgia home to the next town over in Mema's car.
On my way back, I fell asleep behind the wheel and side swiped my car for 20 feet against the side of a bridge.
That last sentence is false. But I hope all of your hearts skipped a beat because that would be funny.
My car is in Alabama, we are all safe, and that's what happens when you go to a Jazz festival.
I called the only gal I knew in Sippi, (We'll call her Georgia) and the stars must have alligned that day.
She was available to go to a jazz festival with me and I actually had the means to go.
We get to Mobile and found the sketchy run-down looking victorian-style house that the festival was happening in. We were thrown off a bit when we got inside. We decided to wear pants and a cute tee, as not to look over dressed- turns out we were underdressed. It was a ritsy bunch, women in their Southern best, floppy hats, and gaudy jewelry, while most men either wearing a button up with black slacks or a pressed polo. Oh yeah, just a wee bit underdressed.
But jazz is jazz. And when we got in, found out that Jumbalaya, baked mac n' cheese, eggplant casserole, and tons of other deliciousness were to be served for the occasion.
We piled our little bowels and plates, finishing off with strawberry shortcake and enjoyed our stay. The band consisted of a piano player, tuba player, and a surprano sax player, all very talented in the arts of jazz and rag time.
Everythign felt right. Finally, a time to just chill out and enjoy the company of a friend. Then of course, the occasional flirting of a gentleman sitting a a table next to us. That's another story.
So the festival ended and we were wanting to explore more of the town. The pretty buiildings and their lights were too much to leave too soon. Then I saw an underground tunnel- one I recognized from the year prior that lead to where a cousin lives.
We drove into the tunnel, enjoying the bright yellow lights, then turned around and went back.
"What is this song and who does it? I've heard it but a few times before but I really like it!"Georgia asked.
I turn up the volume a bit in the car,"Home, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros."
We get to the end of the tunnel, and I decided we should go right, back into the city part of town. I slowed down quite a bit from the 45 speed limit, only going about 15 now to turn at the green light. Had I known there was a lane paralleling the tunnel, I might have looked a second time to see that I was in the clear.
A loud boom sound and next thing I knew, I was on the curb on the street that I was turning to and there was a maroon car that I'd hit that was on the street further up from me.
"You okay?" Georgia asked, "Yeah, you?" "Yeah."
She immediately got out of the car to go check the other vehicle. I followed suit, grabbing my phone and dialing 911. We walked up to see a dark skinned gentleman.
I think both of us blushed a little... who wouldn't? The guy was gorgeous!
He said he bumped his head, I told dispatchers where we were located, and in less than ten minutes two police vehicles arrived.
"I am so sorry, " I began apologizing.
"I slowed when I saw you coming. It's okay it's okay," and he smiled a little. Mmm.
Georgia also apologized, hoping he was okay. "I'll be fine, it's just too bad we had to meet in such circumstances," he replied to her.
"You're car looks okay except for some scratches," Georgia said.
"Yeah, and my car is a little bitch who can't take a punch." I said, making him smile a little again.
Pretty soon a fire truck showed up with some medics to check him out. Then a tow truck to take my car away. What was once an empty street was beginning to fill with random pedestrians who were 'just walking by' and when they saw there was nothing to marvel at, walked away once more.
Oh, you're curious as to the damages?
Well, indeed, his car was just scratches. No headlight damage, no real dents from what we saw.
My car? Like a finger flicking plastic. The metal above the passenger wheel is dented in and smashed on the tire. No lights busted, the car still runs, no flat tire, no airbags deployed...
My car had to get towed because of something simple a crowbar can shimmy out. I understand, proceedure, proceedure...
At least the cops were nice. "Are you from Montana?" The policeman asked. I had a Jeff Foxworthy's There's your Sign moment when he asked that. I really wanted to say, "Nope. Just have a Montana driver's license and plates for shits and giggles." I didn't.
I just cocked my head at him and started laughing. His other cop buddy exchanged glances at him like I was high.
Before you know it, Georgia and I were telling them our life stories of how we're from the south, moved to the north - each of us- and it's all coincidence how we seperately ended up in Mississippi and got to the jazz concert tonight.
Then the cops started joking with us, "There's nothing to do in the north is there?"
"Nothing." I said.
"Well, depending on what you like!" Georgia said, defending her notherners.
"Hiking. And snow." I said.
"Haha, must not have road signs up in Montana." A cop joked.
Little does he know ladies and gents... littles does he know...
The po po ended up taking us to a Mickey D's until we could find out who was to rescue us at 10:30 in the evening. Oh yeah, best part? We rode in the back. Bars and all. I got to film it, and when I have means of getting it on youtube, it will be up.
About 30 minutes later, cousin Juju comes to save the day. She takes us back to my Mema's and I drive Georgia home to the next town over in Mema's car.
On my way back, I fell asleep behind the wheel and side swiped my car for 20 feet against the side of a bridge.
That last sentence is false. But I hope all of your hearts skipped a beat because that would be funny.
My car is in Alabama, we are all safe, and that's what happens when you go to a Jazz festival.
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