The end of March and/or beginning of April are a fantastic time to be in Mississippi as far as the weather is concerned. It's not too hot or muggy, flowers are blooming, days are longer, etc., etc.. The perfect time to plan a visit from up North where things are still cold and there's probably even snow still on the ground.
What with settling in to the hotel and the travel debacle of the day before, I was too wound up to sleep and am guessing I got about an hour or so of shut-eye. Anyone who knows me understands that this is NOT a good thing. I wouldn't say that I'm purposefully mean or crabby but there's a sort of 'aura' around me. How can I describe it......hmmm....Okay, I've got it. Are you familiar with the movie "Jaws" starring Richard Dreyfus? Do you recall hearing the music as the shark would approach its next victim? Do you remember how that music made you feel? That's my aura when I'm operating on little or no sleep. So, not only did I have the 'first day jitters' but I had my psycho tired brain to deal with as well...this just didn't bode well for anyone.
My savior (who is one of the nicest people on the planet, by the way) and I walked out to her rental car, which I can still remember. It was a gold Ford Taurus sedan and it was brand spanking new. The odometer read "8" and it was just oozing that new car smell. It's funny the things you remember...
Anyway, we arrived at the office where she brought me to the appropriate folks and headed off to do her own thing. The amount of information thrown at me that morning was staggering and, what with my aura, I knew enough to take copious notes and was doing just fine. The trouble started when I had to use the ladies room (If I had a dime for every time I've said THAT....). Oh, it probably sounds harmless enough just laid out like that but, somehow, I found a way to be traumatized....
Perhaps I've led a sheltered life or perhaps, until that moment, I'd just been lucky but, until then, I had never heard someone have a cell phone conversation while using the facilities.
It started off much the same way as any office bathroom visit. I walked in, chose a stall, checked for TP availability as well as the cleanliness and stability of the seat. Next I locked the door, perched precariously and went about my business. It is worth noting here that men are fascinated by the "perch" or "hover" as some refer to it. Aside from ensuring that you grab the appropriate amount of TP PRIOR to perching, there's really nothing to it. Since, however, men can't seem fathom how women do it, it's one of the few things, aside from giving birth to a child, that make me feel superior.
Okay, so back to Jackson; I was in the ladies room and, not only was there a woman in the next stall (which is nerve wracking enough - really, I'm not a shoe cobbler. I don't want to be able to count the stitches on someone else's shoe or, given the venue, see something far worse), but seconds after I perched, she started talking in a normal, conversational manner:
Adjacent Stall Occupant (ASO): "Hey, how you doin'?".........
Now, at this point, I'm thinking that I should have paid attention to all of the talk about how warm and welcoming Southern folks can be. While it's uncomfortable for me, being a New Englander, I start to respond and it takes a few more questions before I realize that she is on the phone....in the bathroom.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends and have had many phone conversations with these friends. While out at a restaurant or bar, I've even gone to the ladies room at the same time as them. There is only one friend, however, who I will 'take to the bathroom' with me while we talk on the phone. I always warn her before I head in...
"Hey, just so you know, you're coming to the bathroom with me". Of course, I'll still mute the phone if I have enough warning that an unmistakable noise is about to happen. Seriously, what happens in the bathroom should stay in the bathroom. This business of cell phone conversations while in the bathroom made absolutely no sense to me but hey, I was in Mississippi, maybe it was just part of the culture there. For the record, there has only been one time since then where I observed that same behavior and it was in New Jersey so I'm not sure if it counts.
Just before noon, my savior appeared and asked if I was hungry and did I like Bar-B-Q. As the answer to both questions was 'Yes', we drove out to a little hole-in-the-wall place that came highly recommended by some of the local folks from the office. 'Good Southern food' they'd said. It was located on a gravel road that sloped down on either side forming two identical ditches. What was serving as a parking lot looked more like someone had just widened the road on both sides to indicate that cars could park there if they felt like stopping just then. There were two faded picnic tables in one corner of the parking lot, under the shade of a tree.
We went inside and ordered lunch, just listed as "BBQ" on the chalkboard, and brought it back out to the picnic tables. Once I sat down, I examined the contents of my Chinet plate. There was definitely BBQ pork on a roll as well as some Cole Slaw and a pickle but there was also a little puddle of something white-ish. The puddle had a pat of butter on top. Trying not to make myself look any more out of place, rather than ask, I opted to wait and see what my savior did with her puddle. She caught me looking, smiled and said something like 'Haven't you ever seen Grits?' Since she was also from north of the Mason Dixon lined, I wondered if this was some sort of trick question. "Well, yeah, but not in person". She chuckled, salt and peppered hers and said "They're good when they're cooked right. Sort of like Cream of Wheat". CREAM OF WHEAT??? But that's a breakfast food. Oh God, first the cell phone in the bathroom and now Cream of Wheat for lunch? 'What's next?' I wondered. Well, you know the saying "Be careful what you ask"?
As it turned out, those Grits must have been cooked right because I truly enjoyed them along with the rest of the food. We chit chatted, trying to get to know each other since we'd be working together quite a bit. It was just a lovely lunch and I was in a much improved mood as we got back in to the rental car to head for the office. We were still chatting when my savior put the car in reverse and started to back up.....and up....and up. Right out of the parking lot and part way in to the roadside ditch. It wasn't a long way down, nor was it even remotely dangerous and neither of us was hurt. The problem, it seemed, was that she had backed that brand new Taurus over a sort of big bump on the embankment where the frame of the car now rested. Both the front and back tires were in the air. Just barely in the air but that was enough. We got out of the car to take a look and I just started to laugh. Ya know, when you're tired and giddy and something just strikes you so funny that you can't stop laughing? Yeah, that was me along with everyone else who it seemed, until that moment, was in the restaurant. Whether they watched it happen or heard it, they all came out to look. Even the Cook came out to take a gander.
Well, there was absolutely nothing we could do on our own and as I started to look around for someone who might be able to help, there was a truck I hadn't noticed before. A truck with the Union Jack flying from it and a gun rack in it. At the same time I was noticing this, a man started to make his way from the crowd gathered in the parking lot over to said truck. A man wearing overalls and a baseball cap. It wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned it but it was close enough to make a cold shiver run down my spine. 'Think of the lady in the bathroom' I thought. 'Southerners are a warm and friendly people.....Oh God, does anyone else hear those banjos?' This thought process seemed to go on forever but it couldn't have been more than 15 or 20 seconds when I snapped out of it. The man started up the truck and maneuvered it over to the embankment where he tied one end of a rope to the back end of the truck and the other to the front of the Taurus. He climbed back in, put it in drive and tried to pull the car out but it was no good. Each time he'd try to move forward, the back tires of the truck would just spin. Even I could see it needed more weight in the back; so the cook and a couple of other guys hopped in the truck bed to weigh it down and that still wasn't enough.
You will likely find this as hard to believe as I did when it happened but I swear to God that this is true.
They asked me to jump in to the truck bed to help weigh it down. In heels. Wearing a brand new suit I bought special for my first day with the new company. Aside from the logistics, there were so many reasons that this terrified me, a woman in her 30's, not the least of which was that the damned plan worked. No, prior to that, several thoughts crossed my mind. Thoughts like 'Are they just going to get me in the back of the truck and take off?' and 'Would my savior follow in hot pursuit or would she just wash her hands of me and think that I deserved it for waking her up at 2:30 that morning? and finally, 'Why did I leave my cell phone in my purse.....which is in the Taurus?'
Maybe, if I took my phone with me everywhere I go (like that ASO from the bathroom), I'd have it on me and could actually dial 911 but, even if I did, what would I tell them?
'Hi, I'm being kidnapped by a man wearing overalls and a baseball cap and I'm in the back of a dark blue pickup truck' to which the Operator would giggle and reply:
'Do you know the make of the truck?'
'Well, no'
'Do you know the license plate number?'
'Not without climbing out of the moving truck to look'
'Can you tell me anything about the truck?'
'Yes. It's flying the Union Jack.' Upon hearing this, the Operator would likely pause, there'd be more giggling, and she'd say something like 'You talk kinda funny, you're not from around here, are you...?' and that would be the end of me.
Well, the 911 call never happened because, as mentioned previously, I apparently weighed enough to make the difference and the truck stopped immediately after successfully hauling the 8-mile-old Taurus out of the ditch. I climbed down out of the truck in my heels, dusting my suit off as I made my way back to the car. When I looked up toward the car, I saw my savior in the driver's seat with her head resting on the steering wheel. 'Oh God' I thought, 'She's really shaken up by all of this and must feel terrible about it happening on my very first day with the company'. I got in and looked over, prepared to console her and that's when I noticed that she was not distraught, nor was she crying or feeling bad at all. She was laughing. Laughing so hard, she wasn't making any noise at all. When she looked back at me, the tears were streaming down her face and she simply could not stop laughing. Well, I'm sure you know that laughter is a wonderfully contagious condition so the two of us spent the return trip to the office laughing, saying how we couldn't wait to share the story and that it had to rank right up there as one of the weirdest 'First Day with the Company' stories ever.
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