ERIK DOES NOT BELIEVE IN TEARS


Alabama – I heard Mr. Young sing about her.
September 29, 2009, 12:44 am
Filed under: Uncategorized
Olivia will rise again!

Olivia will rise again!

We left Atlanta and started forward progress on our journey West for the first time by passing through much of Alabama.  We had decided to camp outside of Mobile.  The storms convinced us that this might not be wise, as the area might be wet.  Internet research indicated that the Gulf Coast area was not as wild as we had hoped, and was more suitable for mobile home “camping” than the real life variety.

We briefly stopped in Montgomery because Emily wanted to see the church where Martin Luther King Jr. led the bus boycott.  Montgomery, like Lansing or any other state capitol, was dead on a Sunday.  There was not a car, not a soul.  We were surprised to find that the church was less than a block from the state capitol building.  Emily has studied the civil rights movement extensively and could not remember having ever learned that detail.  Strange not to remark upon such an interesting circumstance.  While the bus boycott went on, and the fight for civil rights grew, the organizers were just steps from the seat of white power in the state.

MLK Jr.'s church in Montgomery - the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church.

MLK Jr.'s church in Montgomery - the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church.

Not much going on in Montgomery.  We couldn’t find any buses for Emily to take a symbolic ride.  Although I should note that a billboard outside of town advertised that bus drivers eat free at Burger King.  We pressed on to Mobile.

Mobile’s main drag, Dauphin, has some beautiful architecture.  It is quite a cute little town currently undergoing some rejuvenation.  Unfortunately, we were visiting on a Sunday night.  As recommended, we went to Wintzell’s Oyster House, where we had po’boys and fried green tomatoes.  Our waiter  had forearms swelling with muscle and a boyish face.  He had lived in Mobile most of his life.  However, when asked what essential things we should do there before we left, he was at a loss.  He pointed across the street and recommended the bar.  He tried to convince us to order an oyster plate rather than the po’boy.  While the po’boy was delicious, upon looking at the oysters served to another table, we had made the wrong choice.

Wintzell's Oyster House in Mobile.

Wintzell's Oyster House in Mobile.

Having learned to trust this young man’s recommendations, or at least the implication underlying his recommendations (and lack thereof), we left Mobile early the next day for New Orleans.


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