Day 28 (Part II) - Prejudice is squeezed lemon on paper cut

Key West, Florida:

I just thought this is important to jot down so I'll never forget it. I went to Hemingway's Florida house because I admire his work. I avidly advocate American literature as a cut above the rest. For the relatively short amount of time literature has been produced in our country, an array of the most simple to the most complex styles and subject matter blows the cannon countries away. I've been called on this before, but I'm sticking to my guns. Yes, I love fill-in-the-blank-country literature but I loooooove American literature.

Anyway, I'm not writing anymore about that subject. At the veranda of Hemingway's house, twelve of us (all white except for me), including a guide, were discussing some of his books when a couple and their child who was about four took a tour of their own. The three were Vietnamese - I know this since I heard the man utter "du ma" which is "f-you" as far as I've been told. The husband and wife were futsin' around with the camera and loudly talking in their language, disrupting our tour.

Then the little girl skipped into Hemingway's bedroom unsupervised, and the guide castigated the mother. "Can't let your kid run around by herself," the man with a heavy New York accent said meanly. At this point I was having breathing problems from stress. The couple got the child but kept on talking loudly and taking pictures copiously. Our guide said, "Some people who don't know English talk too loud." A few snickered.

I reddened, choking at my cowardice for not speaking up and for the runaway thoughts that got the best of me. For one, the image of my mom screaming it up on her cell phone assailed my thoughts, and immediately my gut hurt. This is painful to admit, but I've always been somewhat ashamed when she speaks Tagalog like she's singing soaring opera arias in public.

When the snickering ended, I heard someone say, "Do they even know who Hemingway is?" That's when my mouth was unsewn. "Don't you know? His books are translated in all sorts of languages. I'm sure they wouldn't have paid 12 bucks just for a veranda picture."

I honestly don't know how my voice came out, but no matter, I was able to breathe again. No tip for the guide.

Day 28 (Part I) - Animal farm with Hemingway in it

Miami & Florida Keys:

Today's been one of the most screwed-up-Twilight-Zone-animal-kingdom days of my life. I woke up extra early so I wouldn't get a ticket for parking at a street meter overnight. It was about sevenish when I crossed the road with my suitcase. This cabbie honked at me and fueled my blood right away. I gave my first finger of the trip and an extra vulgar expletive. Already the tension was high, and I had a feeling things were going to be either bad or really really bad.

My focus for the Keys to see Hemingway's house and Harry Truman's Little White House. Though only about 100 miles, the drive was slow because of construction and scuttling cop cars. I stopped by a gas station when I noticed a little brown dog heading for the busy intersection. The poor thing was shaking. I did my dog whisperer whistle, and slowly but surely he came bounding up to me. Extremely lovable dog which I named Petey. I arranged my back seat and up he jumped. I gave him water, a Cheez Whiz sandwich, and cheese puffs to tide him over.

Next to the gas station was a McDonald's and my little eyes spied a police car. Rolling my shoulders and leaving the dog in the air conditioned car (unknowingly unlocked!), I walked inside McDonald's and sought the law. I explained the situation and asked where the nearest shelter was. "No shelter. Gotta call the Humane Society," said this unintimidating cop. I'll call them for you so they can pick the dog up."

I explained to him that I was from Los Angeles and I couldn't stick around. I suggested he tell the lady at the gas station to keep the dog until he could get picked up. He nodded, capping his coffee. To make the story short, the lady said yes, but when the officer left, she told me her boss wouldn't allow it. We had some words. No choice but to go to the Humane Society myself. One hour away.

When I arrived I was told I had to drive Petey to some pet rescue which was one hour and a half away. By this time I was sweating like a MFer and grinding my teeth like Lou Diamond Phillips. I found the rescue place but they were closed! There was a vet clinic next to the center and they said to try a Humane Society branch that holds animals just for a little while. I drove there, and the door was open. I knocked on the desk, said, "Hello," so many times I sounded like Pee Wee Herman. I could hear dogs barking and people talking but they were ignoring me.

So I did what I had to do. I got Petey out of the car, let him inside the Humane Society office, closed the door, and bolted. I hope they find him a good home. Naturally I considered keeping the nice pooch, but for once I thought with my brain and not my heart.

As for the other animals I've encountered...Hemingway's six-toed cat spawn, lizard on the window, chicken crossing the road, and other critters I can't remember right now.

Since this is only about Petey's ordeal, I'll have a part II for the other stuff...

Day 27 - To the moon and the tan

Florida:

My dream has come true. I finally got to go to the Kennedy Space Center and most importantly, the Astronaut Hall of Fame. The $41 entrance fee was an unexpected kick in the gut. The rockets and space shuttles were worth the ticket price, but the rest was a little disappointing... fun and educational for children but tedious for impatient tour haters like me. The free entrance to the Astronaut Museum was more like it. I drove seven extra miles to get there but it was worth it.

Ever since I saw the movie The Right Stuff (and later read the book by Tom Wolfe), I've been fascinated by the seven pioneers who made it possible for us to reach the unreachable. I was welcomed by the statue of Scott Carpenter and pictures of Gordo Cooper, John Glenn, Gus Grissom and all the other boys including the recent recruits I don't even know. I'm just soooo lucky to be gallivanting around the country to the places I really want to see. I have another week or so, I think, then home.

Remember Cameron Diaz' neighbor? The old woman with the dog in There's Something About Mary? Well, I saw a bunch of them today in South Beach Miami. Tons of locals and tourists were tanned...and not regular tanned, but you're-going to-look-like-a-saddle-in-five-years tanned. Even the young kids look odd and wrinkled.

I walked around the beach sweating like a squished snail. I was assessing (making fun) of people while they stared at me in my black t-shirt and maroon corduroy. Yes, I'm a photophobe, a bathingsuitphobe, and a shortsaphobe. My hangups, however, made me hotter than everyone else. Then walking toward me came BaddicusFinch's mini-twin wearing dark rimmed glasses, dark shirt, slacks...and a messenger bag! We looked at each other, smiled and kept on walking. At least we weren't alone.

I trudged about three miles in search of the down-home pulled pork sandwich that Dexter Morgan loves so much. Of course there was none to be had. South Beach was rife for tourists with money, I suppose, because the cheapest meal I encountered was $25. Never thought I'd say this, but good thing I hung a left and stumbled onto Subway. I bought a veggie footlong which I can have tonight and tomorrow.

Throughout the states I've been to this trip, I hadn't heard the sound of a car horn. And voila! Miamians love to honk and tailgate...for no reason whatsoever. So my L.A. road rage kicked up a couple times. When a driver invaded my road space, I would splatter the tailgater's car with windshield wiper fluid. Sure enough, they'd drive around me and give me the look for which I would smile and flash the peace sign.

Day 26 - Everything's Orlando

St. Augustine, Florida:

Went to the ice machine to scoop a bucketful of ice...for a very special root beer. I'd been wandering the streets of St. Augustine, appreciating the narrow streets, and impressed at the many historical markers in the city. I'm a huge fan of walking, but the humid weather makes me sweat bullets. Not good to outshine mirrors.

Breaking it down, there's a fort, a lighthouse, the oldest home in America, a super old school house, and rows upon rows of shops. The shops I avoided like two-day old oatmeal. That was the problem, because the town's groomed for tourists...rich ones. Red caterpillar street cars filled with tourists wearing shorts congest the roads and give it a Disneyland feel. Ah well, I'm a dork anyway. Disney owns half of Florida, and most people like that stuff so I shouldn't complain.

My favorite part of today would have to be the alligators I became acquainted with at the St. Augustine Alligator Farm. They were more massive than I’d imagined. I once had a fantasy of wrestling an alligator's maw open, but seeing those 15-foot long creatures up close and personal killed whatever Tarzan joy I was thinking.

My funds are close to depleted so I better get a move on. I'm going to Kennedy Space Center tomorrow and drive straight to Miami. Then one or two more stops and I'll be on to Louisiana. I've been waiting for New Orleans my whole life. I’ll try to take a haunted house tour, and we'll see if I bail out on account of I'm chicken.

Day 25 - Birds everywhere

Alabama:

I nixed the swamp exploration idea I had for Savanna, Georgia. Instead I turned south to tiny Monroeville, Alabama to visit the old courthouse museum with Harper Lee and Truman Capote's chronicles displayed on the walls. The stopover was apropos since 2010 is the 50th anniversary of To Kill a Mockingbird, a book I first enjoyed as a kid.

The art director of the movie version imitated the courthouse brick-for-brick, but I was proud to stand in the actual courtroom where Amasa Coleman Lee, Harper’s father and the basis for the Atticus Finch character, stood up for righteousness despite the opinions of his friends. I gotta say...I'm so privileged for being able to go on this trip. I'm learning so much and appreciating the complete experience.

After Monroeville I set off for Tallahassee, Florida through a downpour. I could only see by following the yellow line on the highway. Tallahassee proved to be a multicultural town. I may sound naïve, but I was shocked to see Asians crossing the streets and international cuisine. I ate at a Japanese restaurant and the friendly waiter said, "You're not from here, are you?" I said nope. I asked him what I usually ask minorities in my travel. "Do you like Tallahassee?" "I love it," he said to my surprise. He said that he came from Korea and lived in San Francisco for a time. It was too expensive and crowded for him, but Florida is laid back. Good for him.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned the bird theme of the trip yet. Today I saw a hawk with an almost four-foot wing span so close to the car that I thought he'd say hello. On the side of the road somewhere in Oklahoma, a falcon stood like a hitchhiker, and vermilion red birds gently hound me from state to state. Also today I turned on the computer, closed my eyes, and clicked blindly on a song. Guess what played…"Blackbird" by the Beatles. Reminds me of the seer who told me that my totem animal is a crow...I don’t know, but the birdsy incidents are turning me into a believer. All I know is that when I see them gliding in the air, my mood brightens.

But enough hocus pocus. Here are a couple other places I went today:

+ The Knott House (home/office of Florida's first African American physician)
+ Tallahassee Old Capitol

Day 24 - Marching

Alabama:

Driving over 60 miles along a narrow stretch of highway hadn't bothered me before - except for the trees, of course, but I'm over that now. I drove down US-80 from Montgomery to Selma - the same route the peace marchers and Martin Luther King walked in protest. At first I didn't notice anything but green. Then I was struck by the darn long distance for a walk, and I imagined blistered and bloody feet from uncomfortable '60s dress shoes. And when they reached Selma, they were beaten senseless.

Non-violence, MLK exhorted, borrowing from his (and my) hero, Ghandi. The event reminded me of the time Gandhi marched to the sea to make salt and show the British that the ocean is free, cannot be taxed, and that India was their country. I almost wished the time would go by faster so I wouldn't have to imagine the folks walking so far.

When I first envisioned my cross-country journey, my mind was ablaze with places I wanted to visit. I overloaded my itinerary, of course. I chose historical, political, kitsch, architectural, natural, etc. This was the first time I actually saw, in my mind's eye, the hardship and sacrifice of the Civil Rights activists to make everyone's future a better one. Shortly after the Selma to Montgomery marches in 1965, Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Voting Rights Bill ensuring voting rights for blacks. What MLK and scores of other supporters pushed for worked and I thank them for their good work. When I see the many museums dedicated to Civil Rights, I don't say, "Again?" I now say, "There should be more."

The beautiful historical markers greeting drivers and passengers on the highways and the Selma gateway sign are impressive. But once you hit the town, you'll get a shock. The town is literally falling apart. Buildings sit half-finished or abandoned. Houses are in a dilapidated condition. Frankly it was like a ghost town. There was even a museum about slavery, and the posted sign was a worn banner. Depressing. You'd think something of such historic value would be preserved for posterity...for our children.

This visit confirms the importance of travel and getting to know places like these. Without the history spilled on those streets, our lives wouldn't be the same. I for one surely wouldn't be driving alone through the American South if it hadn't been for the courage of many before me.

Day 23 - Joe Louis vs. Jefferson Davis

Alabama:

Joe Louis is an important person in history, and not just in the pugilistic backdrop. He rallied the entire country behind him against the bombastic Max Schmeling. Hitler's boy was supposed to show the world how the Aryan race was unbeatable. Well, my mustached unfriend, Joe Louis proved you wrong. He kicked your little Teutonic ass so bad that you had your Nazis pull the plug on the radio.

Louis' life later became steeped with harassment from the government for the money he owed the Feds. Muhammad Ali called him an Uncle Tom...but then again, he called everyone that. I have profound respect for Joe Louis and that was why I drove to a grain of rice town called LaFayette, AL to look for his statue. And so there it was, larger than life with the Brown Bomber poised for a fight. Great sculpture, strong and fierce. Then I read the plaque on the back of the statue.

JOE LOUIS IS A CREDIT TO HIS RACE: THE HUMAN RACE. Jimmy Cannon, Sportswriter

I stopped by the Tuskegee Human Rights and Civil Rights Center since it was on the way to Montgomery where I would be hibernating for the night. It wasn't open as expected as it was the 4th of July. The town was nearly all black which reminded me of what that woman said yesterday...about me being weirded out. To answer her question, I went inside a Taco Bell, used their commode, and left without buying anything. Thanks a lot, lady, for getting it in my head that I stand out.

Despite the fact that today is a holiday, I got to take in some sightseeing.

+ Joe Louis
+ Tuskegee Airmen
+ Piggly Wiggly
+ Hank Williams Memorial
+ Southern Poverty Law Center (Maya Lin designed the fountain)
+ F. Scott Fitzgerald Home
+ Dexter AME Church (MLK)
+ White House of the Confederacy

Two things to discuss. BaddicusFinch suggested that I go to the Hank Williams memorial. I said, "Ew! I don't listen to country." He said, "This was before country before the stuff you hear now. Don't be a snob." He was right. I aim to have a listen when I get back.

The other was the White House of the Confederacy. Creepy, let me tell you, and what a strange landmark to see on the most patriotic day of the year. I saw Jefferson Davis standing there, tall as a god. If the war had gone the other way, I'd be in Canada now.