JANNETT

Jeff has a thing about the name "Jannett" - he was complaining our first day about how it shouldn't be a real name. I had never even heard of the name before.

Not 24 hours later, we are directly behind this car.


It was beautiful.

New Orleans!

From Memphis to New Orleans. Man, what a difference driving into New Orleans. It's like, a real city. Or maybe I should say it's a thriving city, because the other cities we've seen just looked so economically depressed. I wasn't sure if I should blame that on the current state of the economy or if that's just the way that Memphis and all of the towns off I-55 in Mississippi have always been (maybe I should catch up on my US History, seeing as that was my minor... such a failure..) but I was starting to feel a little bit depressed about it, myself.

We rolled out of Memphis pretty early to hit I-55 South. No outlandish sightings on the road this time, but some time in the early afternoon I began to verbally state that some coffee might do me good. MIRACLE. I look up and see the sign: Coffeeville 20 miles. .... COFFEEVILLE!?! The answer to my prayers! We were all very much obliged to get what would no doubt be the world's greatest coffee from Coffeeville. Soon we were approaching the exit, with baited breath. We were lead down a very long, very windy road. Lots of run down homes, some on wheels and some just kind of forgotten over time. Cows. And then... a huge patch of hanging moss, clutching to the trees in some attempt to pull them back toward the earth. It was right out of Big Fish, that sort of random magic that you don't expect to find along the way. But still, we had not yet reached Coffeeville. We were growing anxious. Finally more signs. (and I should also note that we passed two small churches along the way). We were close. Very close. The buildings were still falling apart but it was looking up. There were more of them. Lots of pick-up trucks, too.

And then. There we were "Welcome to Coffeeville" - AMAZING. My caffeine addiction was causing my skin to itch all over - it knew we were close to the most unbelievable substance we'd ever taste. We pulled into what seemed to be the only open business on a Sunday - the gas station. The coffee sat in a pot like a golden beacon of light. And wouldn't you know, it was the most... absolutely horrifyingly disgusting coffee I'd ever tasted. The irony killed me, really.

So we toured around town some more and it's actually fascinating. We ended up seeing seven more Churches. SEVEN. That makes NINE in and around one little town. It seems to be the only "business" that's thriving. And I can sort of see why. It's like at one point in time this place was a thriving western town of some kind. And now it consists of blank saloon-style buildings, painted in colors, standing alone and vacant. There's a weird sadness there. But nothing like Jackson. Nothing could compare to Jackson.

The Capital building in Mississippi is gorgeous. The whole block where the capital sits is stunning, really. But we were hungry so we decided to look for food - preferably not fast food. This was the most difficult task we had all day. We drove down what seemed to be a beautifully vibrant street only to discover that it, too, had been abandoned. Boarded up and left, just like that. Detailed street lamps with nothing left to light but the brick below. It was erie, and sad. Driving futher we hit a massive group of houses that may have been sparatically occupied but looked as abandoned as the rest of it. It's like people just up and left 50 years ago. It was kind of sad. And no, we weren't able to find any restaurants that weren't fast food chains - and believe me, we tried. We tried very hard.

So you can imagine why pulling into New Orleans was so thrilling. It might not be as vibrant as it was pre-Katrina, but compared to the aftermath of the economic bombing we passed through, this place is unreal. And it is, actually. It's beautiful. In every way. Eclectic and architecturally interesting. Just beautiful. We went to Bourbon Street, because we had to, and it was fairly active for a Sunday night. We ignored the restaurant/bar employees who came out on the street trying to usher us in to their business and just followed the music we wanted to hear. The first bar, kind of a divebar type, had an unbelievable bluesey band. The second seemed even more authentic. That woman had lungs. Typical New Orleans in every way, but they played well and they played hard and they brought that room to life.

And then there was the final band (after the Gumbo, which was amazing). A full band. Trumpet, sax, trombone, keyboard, drums, bass, guitar... They were phenomenal. The owner of the place got up on stage to sing a few. He looked like Whitey from "8 Crazy Nights." I mean this guy was short, was somewhere in his 70s, with a full head of white hair and the kind of skin that makes you think of Santa Clause. But holy hell - when that man opened his mouth I was blown away. It was the loudest, most raspy piece of heaven I'd heard all night. I wondered if his brief stints on stage is the reason he was still so full of energy at his age. You could tell he lived for it, and it made you wonder what the rest of his life was like - if he'd always done this, and gone completely under the radar... if he'd given anything up for it. If he had kids who had kids who deserved to boast "my grandpa has the meanest voice in New Orleans." It was the perfect ending.

Highlight: Melissa gets all into the music, naturally, and an old Italian man requested a slow dance. Naturally, she had to. It was the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

I have more pictures and video of a lot of this - but my internet connection is slow, and we'll never get on the road in time to enjoy Cafe Du Monde (our next stop before we hightail it out of here).

I'll have to post all of it late tonight, if I can. Once we get to Austin.

To Austin!

SIGHTING!

the quality is shaky toward the middle because it was shot on a camera, not a camcorder, but it's worth it.
Believe me.

Chicago to Memphis

This ain't no pre-production anymore. We've hit the solid leg of our trip that we've been planning so long for. I said see ya later to my mom and the rest of my family in Chicago (including my grandpa who is amazing and still uses phrases like "by golly" and "i'll be darned") and I high-tailed it to Jeff's place on California Ave - foreshadowing!

We booked it down to Champaign, IL - a 2.5 hour trek - to get Melissa, whose apartment is part of a serious estate. Imagine. Paying pennies for something so nice. Not me. Not in LA. Melissa also has two adorable orange kittens named Calvin and Hobbes and the three of us discussed at length how they should come along for the ride - if nothing else, for the purpose of this blog. I've never really been to Champaign, right on the border of U of I. I went to U of I once to visit friends but it was generally dark out and I didn't get good a sense of the area. If I have ever dissed Champaign, I apologize. That town is adorable! I mean, I probably wouldn't make it a point to go there but it's like a breath of fresh air in the middle of rural Illinois. The college population lends itself to the hip cafes and bars, but I was honestly impressed by its charm. Way to prove me wrong about central Illinois, Champaign.

The dynamic of our group is downright amazing. Everything is exciting. ....Everything. (even the things that shouldn't be... I thought Jeff was going to jump out of the car when he saw signs to "BOOMLAND" on our brief stint down through Missouri.) Driving down the Mississippi is a pretty cool thing to do, I think. The speed limit is 70 most of the way to Memphis and it's a two lane highway on either side. No cops. I think we saw two. (far cry from the bazillion lining the turnpike in Ohio)

Memphis is alright. It's not really "the time of year" to be visiting, but we're making it work. Beale Street is about as Bluesey as I've ever seen and we went to this place, the Blues City Cafe, which is apparently Bill Clinton's favorite place for ribs and I can second that approval rating. This isn't your healthy high-class diner, alright? But you've got to try what's good in the area and those ribs were slide-off-the-bone unreal. Also. I've never like coleslaw, ever, and the coleslaw here was surprisingly refreshing. I have no idea what made it different than normal but the whole table agreed it was the best we'd ever tasted. Jeff hates coleslaw, too, so we're two-for-two in the "we'll change your mind about coleslaw" category.

I'm going to see if I can post our AMAZING video ... about an outrageous sighting that had to be documented, somewhere on 1-57 South.

To New Orleans, baby!

Pre-Production: Day 2 & 3 - Erie to Chicago.

Our trip from Erie to Chicago was flawless. We made it in about 6.5 hours and aside from my car's sudden lack of window washing fluid and its sensitivity to the lake effect winds, the trip was smooth. Actually, even with those things it was smooth. Took us two seconds to refill the washing fluid - and I'm glad I know how to do it now so I don't have to pay other people to do something so simple.

Biggest things I forgot I missed about the Midwest:
-Chicago (obviously). It is cold as a frozen-over hell in the winter, but people who live here love their city, regardless. It has so much to offer and it never shuts down. There are so many hole-in-the-wall neighborhoods and beautiful streets (unfortunately clouded with gritty snow this time of year, but still kickin'). It's like New York City, but spacious and more affordable... and, in my opinion, much prettier. I'm going to go ahead and say that I think it's the best big city in the world. And that's a bold statement, considering it's like 5 degrees outside right now.

-being able to walk away from the gas pump as you're pumping it. Taxachusetts takes out the critical element to every pump that allows you to set the nozzle to squeeze itself. Instead, and probably for your "safety" you are forced to freeze to death, squeezing a metal trigger, until your tank is full.

Thank you to the "i dont care about your safety - let's play it the Darwin way" Midwest. Now I can sit in my car, avoiding frostbite, until my tank is full.


-my Killian family. Since moving away from Chicago six years ago I haven't had the chance to see my Killian side that often. Granted most Killians have moved away, I had the chance to see a small cluster of Killians on my brief stint in Chicago, as they were in town working to sell my Grandma's house. SO much fun. Ann, Sharon, Colleen, Brian... my dad has some pretty great siblings, it's too bad he's half-way around the world right now. I'm lucky to think that I have such a cool family (on both sides). Something tells me that's rare.

-byob restaurants. brilliant! another thing Taxachusetts won't allow. But so cost-effective for us patrons! I went to a great byob Thai place with Stacey and Lisa last night. I love those girls. Lisa said it right: "whenever you come back here it feels like you never left and you're never leaving." It does feel like that. And I love that. I love having so many places that feel like home. And I love having such amazing friends to come home to -and who will VISIT ME IN LOS ANGELES IMMEDIATELY. (shameless shout out, and also an order) ...HEART!

Things I did NOT miss about the Midwest:
-Chicago's pot holes in the winter. these things are like the most unavoidable cement canyons you'll ever see. it's horrendous. i can hear my car crying whenever it catches one.

That's pretty much all I can think of right now. Oh, and also.. THE FREEZING COLD.

Anecdote about Ohio:
Midway through Ohio my AMAZING MOTHER WHO IS SO MUCH FUN and I (is that better, mom?) stopped at a rest stop to get some coffee. I was suffering with some major cappuccino cravings and there was no suitable coffee shop to be found. Only a McDonalds. Lame. But then I realized NOT so lame because they're been advertising their asses off about these new starbucksian drinks they serve. Score. So I get to the counter at McDonalds and a very put-together older woman who I felt should be working at a sewing shop and not a McDonalds off of the highway asked for my order.
me: hi. can I get a medium cappuccino with skim milk please?
her: sure, what flavor would you like?
me: what?
her: french vanilla or hazelnut.
me: um, no flavor, please.
she crinkles her brow in confusion - and also as though she thinks I'm an idiot.
her: no flavor?
i nod.
me: yep, just a regular cappuccino. no sugar
her eyes widen briefly, like some invisible object had just hit her over the back of her head.
her: wow. okay.

me in my head: WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE? HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD OF NORMAL COFFEE BEFORE?!

So I get my coffee and I'm slightly skeptical about the lack of communication between the lovely lady who took my order and the other very sweet woman who was making it, so I open the lid and smell it. HOLY God above! we're talking french vanilla sugar fumes wafting straight into my brain. So I politely ask the woman who made the drink to take another run at my crazy idea of what a cappuccino should be. And she did. And I tasted it. And it was perfect. And I was happy, albeit very sad that those two women would never know the sweet nectar that is a non-sweetened cappuccino. Oh, Ohio, how you humor me.


Today: picking up Jeff in an hour. Heading to Champaign, IL to get Melissa. Let it begin.
(and yes, mom, you were fun, too, just relax -everybody already knows how cool you are)

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