Saturday, July 31: Our Excursion into the Pulse of Biloxi
The conference ground onward, and I found myself having learned a great deal about the perspectives of other professionals in the field. Then, that Saturday night, Jennifer and I once again joined my work colleagues for a lengthier trip through Biloxi to a place called Chappy’s. “Meat” had promised us that it was another exquisite experience of the culinary world of the Deep South.
On our way there, we passed many memorable landmarks of the area, mostly other casinos. None of them bulked as large on the horizon as the Beau Rivage, but some, like Treasure Bay Casino, made up for raw size with their exotic facades; in this case, the shape of a castle tethered to a Viking ship.
My cousin, Heather (hey, Heather!), who is something of an expert on architecture, would later explain to me that buildings constructed to resemble something else are classified as “Ducks.” The name comes from a particular structure called the “Big Duck,” which is located in Flanders, N.Y.
Chappy’s—The Deep South Made Manifest
This restaurant was just as quaint and charming as Mary Mahoney’s. Again, we were struck by the fresh seafood, stuff with cream-based sauces and delicious breads. This time, we didn’t have to worry about the cost, as Celeste’s employers picked up the tab.
The Giddy-Up Bridge—The Price for Good Beer
On the way back, Jennifer and I asked my boss if we could find a liquor store and pick up a few beers. We didn’t plan to be out much the rest of the night and wanted to have some cold fizzies with us at our room back at the Beau Rivage. Thus began a ridiculous Odyssey up and down Highway 90, one that covered the entire Deep South. All in the name of finding something so ordinary as a few brews. There was nothing to be found. At one point, we got onto a bridge that bounced up and down like it had a thousand speed bumps built two feet apart from each other. By the time we got to the end of it, everything in our full stomachs, regardless of its original form, had been churned into butter. We hiccuped margarine bubbles when we realized the bridge (which “Meat” called the “Giddy-Up” bridge) was taking us out of Biloxi and into another city entirely. At last, we were forced to admit defeat and let the boss take us back. Fortunately, we found a simple gas station where we could pick up some easy beer for the room. Jennifer and I learned a valuable lesson from that experience; as unpleasant as it was to have to search high and low for a few alcoholic beverages, we will plan to come better prepared for our future trips. We certainly didn’t want that experience again.
Sunday, August 1 to Wednesday, August 4: The Rest of the Trip
On Sunday morning, the conference was over, so everyone else packed up and went back home. Jennifer and I entered into our vacation proper, as my time was now freed and we could spend the remaining few days in Biloxi together.
Jennifer enjoys the Beau Rivage's coffee shop.Originally, we had lots of activities planned, but over time, the Mississippi climate slowly baked them all out of us. Yep, with every bead of sweat we oozed, we lost just a little more of our verve, enthusiasm and eventually our zest to breathe. Instead, we contented ourselves with trying out the various food and drink options available in the Beau Rivage itself. There were plenty, ranging from stone-baked pizzas to home brewed beer to even a couple of different variations on martinis. At one point, we allowed ourselves to receive a bit of babying from a poolside waitress, who brought us delicious fruity alcoholic concoctions while we rested in shameless convalescence, both in the pool and the bubbling Jacuzzi. Say what you will about the benefits of asceticism and the spiritual virtue of nonattachment, sometimes too ol’ materialistic self-indulgence can make for a memorial experience. Toward the end of our tenure there, we even frequented the in-house espresso coffee shop.
A couple of times, we did attempt to leave the casino, simply because we wanted to go somewhere that didn’t expect us to vomit up vital fluids in payment. Even the short distances we traveled still resulted in our being shorter when we got there than when we left, with a layer of melted skin and bone being left behind in our wakes. Once, we went to McDonald’s, where we were accosted by the locals. Why? Because of that live show of athletic Russian dancers being hosted by the Beau Rivage. I happened to be wearing a black “wife beater” shirt and black jeans at the time. The locals were also amazed by our pale “northern” skin, and ended up mistaking us for a couple of those Russian dancers. Nyet! I don’t think so, Comrade!
Ultimately, this trip taught Jennifer and I that six days of vacation is just too much for us. By the fifth day, we were bored out of our half-melted bones and sick of the cloying, corporeal Southern heat. Even at the time, we realized there was only so much rich food and alcohol we could consume, and we were quite ready to head home. We decided then that we would try to keep most of our trips to four days or less. Nonetheless, we were able to experience Deep South culture and to see a major landmark in the Gulf region of the country. It was a worthwhile experience, and one we have never regretted. Perhaps we’ll even return to the Deep South someday!
NEXT: Some epilogue thoughts from Jennifer about Biloxi's recovery after Hurricane Katrina.
No comments:
Post a Comment