Tag: South

Drive Across America – Day 1 – Yuma, Arizona

On Wednesday, May 22, I left Los Angeles (Santa Monica to be specific) to start a 2000 plus mile journey across the country to perform my one man show – Mi Casa Su Casa – at the Atlanta Fringe Festival. This would be my 7th driving trip across the country, but the first one I had taken in 25 years.

Postcard for Mi Casa Su Casa – Atlanta Fringe Festival 2019

The reasons for the trip were numerous – some professional and some very personal – but the end result was that I was leaving my home of 19 years to see if life in another city was something to consider. I was moving to Atlanta for 2 months to see if this was the next phase of the adventure.

I had left the South 40 years before for various political and personal reasons. It was the tail end of the Civil Rights era, but the rampant racism that still existed in the places that I lived plus the desire to pursue a professional life in the entertainment business made the move to New York and eventually Los Angeles the correct decision for me at that time.

Yet, I often returned to visit family and friends, and even worked there at times. The South and the style of living there was never far from my mind, but I was convinced that I could not live there again. However, Life marches on unrelenting. The film business came to Georgia in a huge way and to such a large degree that there is now more film production work in Atlanta then in Los Angeles.

I had/have an extremely good life in LA. I own a large home that has become a very popular Airbnb destination. I have the ability to direct theatre and film projects that are only limited by my desire to create them. I have many wonderful friends and a strong support system that I can call on when I need too.

Yet I felt stuck. Stuck in my own life. No one is to blame for this but me. But stuck is not a great place to be for anyone. I was bored with myself and felt I was repeating the same things over and over again. And at my age, there was not alot of time to lose by repeating myself.

So I decided to shake things up by moving to Atlanta to pursue an idea. And I would going to use the invitation to perform at the Atlanta Fringe Festival as the opening gambit in this journey of self rediscovery.

Historic Old Yuma

I said farewell to my partner and headed south to San Diego using I-405 to I-5 and into San Diego. I had traveled this way a few months before and had ended up in Yuma, Arizona. I grew to like Yuma a lot and so for the first stop on my cross country journey that is where I decided to land.

Colorado River outside of Yuma.

Taking I-8 out of San Diego, I was finally head straight East. This short interstate highway runs through some amazing country. About 40 miles out of San Diego, you have climbed to over 4000 feet while passing Native American Nations one after another. You pass through countryside that seems like you are riding through the old West expecting an outlaw to jump out from behind the nearest boulder and rob you. Then you drop down to pure desert. Slowly as you drive toward the Colorado River, the land begins to take on the color of green and you enter one of the biggest agriculture sections of the US. All the while you are driving within just a few miles of the Mexico/USA border.

New Fence right next to the old!
Road running along the fence line.

I stopped at a little town called Jacumba Hot Springs where the main attraction is a small hotel/resort called The Jacumba Spa. But literally less than a football field away is the border fence. I drive down to the fence where you could see the new fence and the old fence side by side. And where on our side is a dirt road to patrol the fence. On the Mexican side, a rancher uses the fence to tie up his horses while they graze. Plus more than two miles down the new fence line, it stops completely. Anyone any time of day can just walk around the fence into another country. There is no camera, no fence, no sign saying stop, no nothing.

Horse tied off to the border fence.
The wall ends two miles from this point.

I drove on to Yuma and spent the night. I also took the opportunity to visit a few places that night and the next day before I pushed on. Night spots that I had found the first time I was there, and some historically interesting places that have factored in the history of the West and the USA. Yuma is historically interesting because of its place in settling the West. With one of the few safe crossings on the wild Colorado River of the late 1700’s, the Spanish used Yuma to settle San Francisco and Los Angeles and build the missions along the California coast. It at one time was a important rail head for cattle. The Arizona Territorial Prison (referred to in the film, 3:10 to Yuma) was famous for the criminals jailed there and treatment of its prisoners. Finally, while Yuma is now slower and more off the beaten track, it is still a very popular destination for senior folk looking for a quiet, mild winter and is home to some of the largest agri-businesses in the US. There is a lovely historic downtown area with a couple of excellent art musuems, and there is great access to the Colorado River for swimming, boating and fishing.

Arizona Territorial Prision inspiration for the film 3:10 To Yuma.

Photos of these various historic places in and around Yuma will follow in a photo gallery. Look out for it. Thanks.

NEXT STOP: Somewhere in Arizona

Asking for Directions Georgia Style – Georgia

I am returning to Georgia again. This is an annual pilgrimage to see family and friends and to get in touch with my roots. I enjoy traveling in the South. It seems like a slower pace of life, people tend to really listen and be interested in what you say, and there is a genuine concern about you as a person. That is not always true, but that is how is seems. Returning to my home region also reminds me why I no longer live there. I will not mention the reasons but it helps put my current life in perspective. Yet, to be honest, the reasons (even in the time of Trump) to not be there are less and less, and the pull to be with my family members on a more constant basis is strong. Very strong.

I took the red-eye from LA to Atlanta on American Airlines. Good basic flight in 3 hours and forty-five minutes. Got charged $25 to check one bag (? Really?), then asked if I wanted to move seats to the exit row that would another $45 or to get on board first for another $32. Traveling on US based airline is like paying to be treated like crap. They say that they need to do this to be competitive. And I know that national airlines in parts of the world are under written by their individual governments sometimes, but could US based airlines just find a nicer and better way to treat us – the paying customer – like we were not sardines in a can?

Landed at Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta which I am always amazed at how busy and how well managed it is. I had decided to rent a car from Sixt, but instead of paying the extra 10% surcharge at the airport, I opted to ride the subway into mid-town and get the car at a mid-town location for about $50 cheaper. I have ridden the MARTA trains (Atlanta’s train and bus system) only a couple of time in Atlanta, but again I am impressed about how efficient it is. I live in Los Angeles and even though we are considered the second or third largest city in the USA, we are just starting to build our transportation infrastructure. There is not even a train that runs to the airport, and not to have a train that goes to the airport is ridiculous. There are 3rd world countries in Africa and South America that manage that feat, but not LA.

I came out for the subway at the North Ave station in Mid-town Atlanta and only had to walk a couple of blocks to find the rental agency. However, I had left my phone in my car in LA, so I was depending on the kindness of strangers for correct GPS directions. The first gentleman sent me 4 blocks in the wrong direction but I got turned around and headed correctly. I located the SIXT mid-town office in the bowels of the Georgian Terrace Hotel although a sign would be nice. There is no indication anywhere on the building or inside the building to let you know that a car rental office even exists here.

My next task was to locate a T-Mobil phone company office to get a temporary phone. I located one near I-85 in Union City as I head south out of Atlanta to my first stop in Bainbridge, GA., to see my old friend for college, Pamela. When I found the office, it was 8:45 AM and the office did not open until 10 AM. There was someone in the store, but they would not let me buy a phone until the store officially opened. While I was standing in the parking lot trying to figure out what to do for the next hour, the manager Michael Smith invited me in and got me taken care of in about 15 minutes. I am very thankful to him for his great and very kind service to me in a time of great need.

Now Bainbridge is in the south-west corner of Georgia just above Tallahassee, FL. The best and most direct way to Bainbridge is take I-85 south toward Birmingham, then I-185 to Columbus, GA., and then after that to take Georgia  27 and 520 further south after Columbus. Highways 520 and 27 run together for about 50 miles and then they split, and you should follow 27 at that point. The whole journey should take about four and half hours. I still had not taken the time to make sure my GPS was working correctly plus I was driving in the middle of a torrential late-Spring rain storm where I could not see 5 feet in front of me sometimes. Long and short of it, I missed the turnoff for GA 27 and continued along 520.

When I realized that I was off course, I stopped at a rather large convenience store dressed up to look like a back-country store with fake barrels everywhere, and rocking chairs placed along the long veranda on the front of the store. After buying some supplies for the road, I asked the woman behind the counter how to find a connecting road to 27. She pointed to an old farmer type guy on the veranda, and said to ask him because he knew all the roads in the area. I grew up in this part of the world so to see a man wearing overalls, chewing tobacco, and standing around to wait for the rain to stop in the middle of the day is very normal to me. However, I was not quite ready for the dramatic effect that this particular encounter would involve.

What follows is the exact conversation (with spitting included).

Me – “Excuse me, sir. The lady inside said that you might help me get back over to 27. I am head to Bainbridge and missed the turnoff a’ways back. I saw Highway 45 cuts across to there. Can you tell me how far to the turnoff for 45?”

Him – (Spits)“You going to Bainbridge?” (Spits).

I should also explain at this point to anyone not familiar with the practice of spitting tobacco that you usually carry a cup with you to spit into at least while in public places. Not this gentleman. Right on the sidewalk in large brown spatters of brown juice.

Me – “Yes sir.”

Him – (Spits) “You don’t want to go that way.” (He spits and points towards the way I had come) “You want to go back up there to 41 and turn right.” (Spits)

Me – “Well, 27 is in that direction.” (Pointing west which is the opposite direction.)

Him –  (Spits) “Oh that 27. (Spits again) Then you want to turn left. (Spits again) If you go down to 45 that will take you more out of the way. So go back to 41. (Spits) You follow that for six, seven, maybe eight miles and you will come to this sharp curve to the left, real sharp. (Spits) In the middle of the curve, you will find a road to the right. Take that road. Chain Gang Road. Led you right to 27. (Spits)

Me – “Back to 41, turn left, look for the sharp curve to the left and take the road to the right. That correct?”

Him – (Spits) “Yep. Go seven, maybe eight. I think it is seven miles, but it could be eight. And take that curve. (Spits) It is really sharp to the left, I mean real sharp and you will see the road off to the right. Don’t miss that one cause it goes right to 27.” (Spits)

Me – “Well, thank you sir. I appreciate it.” I start to walk to the car, but the rain in unrelenting.

Him – (Spits) “Yeah you want to take that 41.” He spits again and the entire conversation repeats again. He would repeat the same information while spitting two more whole times as I tried to avoid the tobacco juice. Finally I could escape to the car and I made a beeline. As I sat in the car with no good option, I was unsure of what to do. I still did not know where 45 crossed my highway or I could follow the back-wood directions of my new friend.

I opted for the back-wood direction. Nothing was as he claimed, but I am blessed with a decent sense of direction, and I knew where south and west were so eventually I found highway 27 and followed it to Bainbridge in time for lunch.

 

 

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