There isn’t much to do when you are sightseeing in rural Louisiana – even less if you live here.
So, working on a rumor that one of the local denizens adhered to my credo, “A man can’t just sit around”, I went to see what he did with his idle time.
He built a giant mailbox (pic related).
I’ve included my head for scale. Imagine how big that thing would look if I had used a normal-sized head.
The fellow built this thing to honor the hard-working men and women of the United States Postal Service, who are fairly represented by the likes of Mr. McFeeley from “Mister Rogers Neighborhood”, Reba the mail lady from “Pee Wee’s Playhouse”, Newman from “Seinfeld” and most accurately, Cliff Claven” from “Cheers”.
I’m just kidding about the honoring and the hard working thing. I have no idea why he built it. Prolly cuz a man can’t just sit around.
It is out in the cotton fields, which are HUGE by the way. I don’t know how you could ever afford to staff enough folks to gather the crop. I mean seriously. I have no idea what they did before it was automated through machinery.
From wherever that was, I drove to Natchez, Mississippi because when Fletch inherited that mansion, he went to a biker bar and met a gang called that “Nazis from Natchez”.
I crossed the Mississippi again (pic related)
I went to Jim Bowie’s Tavern (there is an Alamo connection in here somewhere with the Pee Wee Herman mention earlier. Figure it out for me, will ya?)
I perused the menu. I asked for recommendations from the barkeep, who I will call “Bubba” because it fits my preconceived notions even though his name was really something boring like Ed. He said the wings. Please. If I want wings I will go to Buffalo. Or, anywhere else in the whole wide world. I got the seafood gumbo (pic related…nevermind. I erased it. Hey, Trixie, post the pic of my gumbo I sent you last night. Will ya?)
I was hesitant to order it because, well, I didn’t know what it was, but for some reason I associated it with okra, which was served to me exactly one time…while I was in the army…in the field. I would describe it as, white in color, swimming in a thick clear sauce that, I supposed, consisted chiefly of the head cook’s ejaculate. I did not sample it.
But, after a few beers, one gets…experimental, shall we say. It was so good. I felt like Mikey from that old Life Cereal commercial (pic related).
After, I stood along the banks of the Mississippi and watched some of those Mark Twain style riverboats float lazily by. I was too tired to do any more driving so I climbed into the EM-50 Phantom Rambler and snoozed it up.
In the morning I decided it was time to make for the most haunted city in America, Nawlins, in time for Halloween. But, well, Roadside America said that Natchez had a “must see” in the form of a diner.
Built in 1940 to cash in on the “Gone with the Wind” craze that was sweeping the nation is Mammy’s Cupboard (pic related).
When it was erected the original color of the woman was black. This strongly divided the community into two camps:
- Those who said that it was wildly racist, and…
- Those who said it was just run-of-the-mill racist for this vicinity.
So, over the years, whenever she got a paint job, the tones became increasingly lighter until she looks normal (haha…just kidding. That would be Darryl Gates level inappropriate)
They are only open from 11 to 2 Tuesdays through Saturdays. This meant me hanging around Natchez for a few hours. I explained my predicament to Trixie. She insisted I wait. I am glad she did. I was dying to get a look under Mammy’s skirt (heh heh). Word on the blog-o-sphere is that the ceiling is lined with lace and petticoats and junk. It is not (pic related).
It is a tight squeeze getting in there (giggity), only about 10 tables, but well worth the effort.
The menu had few selections, but good ones. The food is all homemade out of real ingredients. Service was quick and friendly.
I got the roast turkey sammich on homemade sourdough, with (again, homemade) blueberry chutney, avacado and mayo. It comes with soup and potato salad.
The desserts are kinda messed up, cuz you want to try them all. I decided one slice of pie, banana caramel (pic related)
and a chunk of Hummingbird cake to go.
I crawled back to the Rambler with my doggie bag clenched in my teeth and stretched out hoping the good Lord might take me now in my state of bliss. Short of that I hoped my lunch would digest a bit so I could move enough to drive.
Now rested, onward to The Big Easy.
Smooch to Trixie :*