I’m so glad I learned to drive in Atlanta where Nascar has nothing on I-285. If I hadn’t, there’s no way I would have been prepared for you.
Perhaps you didn’t get any drivers education. Let me help.
Pro Tip 1 People getting onto the highway need to be able to merge. Let them in, for crying out loud!
Pro Tip 2 When someone has his/her/their turn signal on, that means the person wants to get over. Oh but wait, none of you seems to know what that is.
Pro Tip 3 The turn signal is a lever on your steering wheel that, when activated, lets other drivers know you want to make a turn or get into a different lane. You are in the Show Me state, so show me your freakin’ turn signal.
Pro Tip 4 It’s helpful to other drivers for you to pick a lane and STAY IN IT. Weaving in and out is annoying and dangerous.
Pro Tip 5 The posted speed limit is not a suggestion. It’s the max. It’s right there on the sign!
Maybe y’all drive this way to avoid all the potholes and road damage.
Seriously, these roads are about as bad as the ones I had the misfortune of driving in Antigua. That’s saying something.
Please, for the love of God, think of your fellow drivers.
You may be wondering where I’ve been. I’ve been in Hell. Specifically, I’ve been in the First Circle: Limbo.
I do not do well with uncertainty. And finding a place to live in St. Louis has come with SO MUCH UNCERTAINTY. And dealing with people who hang out in the Fourth Circle: Greed.
First, I was going to rent. Then I saw howexpensive rent is here. (It’s not as bad as Atlanta, but considering we are paying for two places to live, it’s bad.)
I decided to buy a cute condo downtown. Until I saw how much HOA fees are. (Hint: They are not cute.)
My brother said, “For that amount, you can buy a nice house.”
But I didn’t want a house. A house comes with upkeep.
My realtor said, “For that amount, you can hire someone to do the upkeep.”
So I found a house and decided to buy it. It’s adorable. It’s on a street that reminds me of Savannah, and the neighborhood brewery is a one-minute-and-20-second walk away. (For real. I timed it.)
But.
BUT.
The inspection found a few issues in this 1891 gem. We negotiated like mad to work it out.
But then, a new problem:
The seller got a divorce. Never took the ex off the deed.
Uh oh.
That delayed closing a week. Meanwhile, we had to get out of the place in Atlanta. No problem: Seller was going to grant possession prior to closing (as she should: It was her fault). But she wanted to charge $83 per day.
Excuse me?
As my stuff was in a moving truck and ready to go to St. Louis, I was in a tight spot.
Sigh. FINE.
Then — as Eddie and I were driving separate UHauls to Missouri (another terrible story), the seller changed her mind.
SHE CHANGED HER MIND.
Now, I need you to know this: I discovered (because I did spend many years as a reporter) that the seller would be my next-door neighbor. SHARING A WALL, as it is a row house.
So this woman fully knew she would be royally screwing over her soon-to-be-close neighbor. And she did it anyway.
(This is not even the climax of the story, in case you are wondering. We have a ways to go to the denouement.)
My GOD.
Now entering Fifth Circle: Anger. Please keep hands and arms inside the vehicle.
As the owner, it was her prerogative. For sure. But also a dick move.
So.
I’m nothing if not resilient. While driving the truck, I booked a storage unit in St. Louis and hired some folks for the next day to help us move my stuff into it.
Recalculating. This route avoids the Seventh Circle: Violence.
On the day I was supposed to move in, we ended up staying with my mother. Thankfully! And made the best of it.
I did close on the house a week later. Her decision cost me a week and SO MUCH MONEY because I had to hire actual movers, instead of abusing my family.
That experience was atrocious on its own. (Hence my comment about the climax.)
The good news is that the house is mine. I’ve been here two weeks. And my neighbor hasn’t dared to show her face.
Are you surprised? I’m not. She knows what she did.
But I have a place to live. And a forwarding address. Finally.
“Fake” ones rely on jump scares, which are too much like pranks for me.
However, when your children — whom you haven’t seen in almost two weeks — want you to go with them someplace, you say, “Yes.” Or at least I do.
Our group consisted of three moms and five teenage boys, ages 15-16.
Someone needs to shave.
Here are the things that I found scary upon arrival:
The ticket price. It was $30 each. Yikes!
The porta potties outside didn’t have lights inside them.
The lack of masks indoors. COVID isn’t gone, y’all!
Once inside, there were other things to scare me:
Just as I started to walk in, the dude pulling back the curtain stuck his hand in front of my face. I screamed from shock. Then giggled because HOW DUMB?!?
A huge animatronic demon face bum-rushed me and shoved me into a wall.
The floors were designed to match the “rooms.” Squishy flooring to represent grass in a cemetery, for example. What’s scary about that? The broken-ankle potential. I don’t need that again.
There was a corridor of clowns. HORRIFYING. I loathe clowns.
Each of the two haunted houses ends with a chainsaw-wielding madman. Or three. I loathe chainsaw-wielding madmen. (That comes from a certain movie seen at an impressionable age.)
One of the boys’ friends putting on a badass act. “What? I can’t help it if I’m not scared.” OK, then, Buzzkill.
I did have a good time, though. One of the best things was the boy banter.
Dominic: Gideon, be careful they don’t put you in one of the exhibits. Gideon: What? Dominic: “Oh, here’s another skeleton.” Dylan: More bones, all Fernbank style. Gideon (laughing): My superhero name can be Bones. Dominic: I feel like this right here is a villain origin story.
Missouri State Penitentiary: They’ll leave one light on for you.
Dear Jenny,*
Thanks for the tour of the Missouri State Penitentiary Saturday night. You took 28 people on a wild ride through the site’s terrible past. More than 168 years of torture at the hands of the government and factory owners. Delightful!
The tale of the young woman starved in the “blind cell” was more horrifying than the prospect of any phantoms, as was the experience of being in there — especially knowing that of the thousands of keys needed for the prison doors, there are only four left. Four!
What was as incredible as your stories was the fact that I was the only guest wearing a mask.
Not only is COVID not gone, but I’m not interested in breathing in 168 years of lead paint, asbestos and general prison dust.
Thanks, but no thanks.
And it’s not like anyone was social distancing either. Not even the ghosts.
While you were at one end of Death Row talking about shifting floor shadows, I was having my own spooky moment.
I moved to the back of the tour to get away from a lady who insisted on being right at my elbow. I wasn’t alone. There were about four or five people on my left, with everyone else on the right.
You made us all put away our phones, and you turned off your flashlight.
It was so dark.
But I felt fine. I was surrounded by people, after all. I FELT THEM near me.
But then my left side got really cold. Just my left. My right was warm.
The guy on my right took out his phone.
In the light from it, I realized there was NO ONE STANDING NEXT TO ME ON THE LEFT SIDE.
So that was fun. 😬
I’d like to say I captured the presence on my phone. But no. This is just me trying to put my phone away.
I was glad when the tour got going again.
The last stop was the gas chamber — same as it was for 40 inmates.
No ghosts here, which is surprising.
I was also surprised to learn that residents nearby were told to leave their houses for four hours when an execution was scheduled.
You said to me yesterday that I am “practically a foreign correspondent now.”
That resonated. I AM gathering information on a place that is new to me.
I’m trying to see and do as much as I can.
For example, I saw a billboard advertising tours of the Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City.
Ghost tours.
Because of course they would offer ghost tours in October.
So I had to go.
Because of course I did.
I asked my mother if she wanted to go.
Me: I am booking a tour of the Missouri State Penitentiary Saturday night. Do you want to go? Her: (long pause) No.
I have no trouble going places alone, so I called to make the booking.
Me: The website says there’s no availability on any weekend tour. Lady on phone: We are sold out. When did you want to come? Me: Saturday. Her: How many? Me: Just me. Her: Just you? Me: Just me. Her: I can squeeze in one person. Me: Great! Her: 7, 8 or 9? Me: A.M.? Her (drily): P.M. It’s a ghost tour. Me: Right.
So I went. It’s an hour and some change north of Rolla. Rural Missouri looks like rural Georgia.
Fifty feet from this sign, there was a dead deer in a ditch. Must not have been good eatin’.What kind of fowl convention is this?
I got to Jefferson City early so I had time to look around.
Gov. Mike Parson’s place. He can walk to the Capitol building if he chooses. It’s a more modest place than Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp’s palace.Lewis, Clark and the gangBrisket, pulled pork, pit beans and jalapeño cheddar grits. Many animals were harmed in the making of this meal. I’m sorry.
At this point, you may be asking this:
But Beth, what about the ghost tour — the whole point of your trip?
I’m hanging out with you for a couple of months while I get acclimated to my new job and find a place to live in St. Louis.
Why was I entertained? In a word: camels.
I happened to arrive just in time for the annual Celebration of Nations parade and festival.
Camels in the paradeA camel moments before he sneezed on meThe Missouri S&T miner mascot riding a camel. (Photo courtesy of Missouri S&T)Here’s a goofy alpaca just for kicks.
You know what else I loved?
“The World’s Finest Rolla German Band.” That’s their name. For real.This goatThe farmers marketLumpia and pancit from a Filipino food truck truck
After my last post, a number of friends said my decision is the right one as I’m always looking for new adventures. That’s true. And they said they look forward to me writing about them.
I Tetrised the heck out of my stuff to get it all to fit in my tiny trunk.
Dear Readers:
I’ve been keeping this blog for 12 years. I started it because I was about to make a class of students start one. I figured I needed to practice what I preached.
Anyway, though I’ve traveled all over the place and written about my adventures, my home base (i.e., where I get my mail) has always been Georgia.
That changes today. I’m Missouri bound.
Q: Um … why? A: I got a great new job, and I’ll be based in St. Louis.
Q: Isn’t that where your birth family is? A: Yes. The universe clearly has something to say. It’s also where I have loads of adopted family.
Q: Is your family excited? A: Excited for me, yes. But Eddie and the boys aren’t coming with me right now.
Q: What? A: Yeah. Eddie did not thrive when we moved to Atlanta. He missed Savannah, his job, his friends. So he went back to work at his old job. He’s much happier. The boys are staying in Atlanta with friends until winter break, then they will join him. I’ll be back with them as often as I can, and we’ll work it out.
Q: You think this is the right decision? A: I effing hope so. We had many family discussions. We decided on this plan together.
Q: You’re ok? A: Eh. In general. I watched two episodes of “Intervention” last night because I couldn’t sleep. Of course, I convinced myself I was scarring the children. I told Gideon that this morning. He rolled his eyes at me. So maybe I’m not scarring the children.
Q: But what if you are? A: What if I am? This is the path we chose together. At least the boys will see their parents doing jobs they really like.
Q: When do you start? A: Monday. I’ll be staying in university housing for two months. My plan is to find a permanent place this week, so I can make arrangements to get all my stuff moved up there.
Q: And you’re sure you’re ok? A: Well, there’s been plenty of ugly crying. I made a road-trip playlist. I got to “Wide Open Spaces” around Chattanooga, and lost my shit.
If you are inclined, send positive thoughts my way as I (we) embark on this new journey.
I am looking forward to writing about a new environment. I’m sure the Show Me State is named that for a reason.
As many of you know, I’ve been taking what I’ve termed “murder-prevention trips” during the pandemic. As I’ve mentioned, I’m an extrovert who likes to travel. The pandemic was hard for me for those reasons, as well as the fact that my children and I were all up on each other trying to work/study.
(First-world problems, I know. We did not have nearly the issues that many, many other people had. But this was my reality, and I’m acknowledging its difficulty.)
I’m not an indoor cat.
Look at what Dominic got me (on his own!) to commemorate my latest trip:
Plus, my favorite band was playing their first gig in a billion years (i.e., 18 months).
I am such a huge Anglophile — constantly amused and/or impressed by the things I find. This jaunt was no exception.
An all-in-one station. You don’t even need to move your hands. Genius!If it’s needless, why is it there?Ew! No. That’s an assault on humanity.I asked the waiter what this was on the saucer. He said, “Flake.” I said, “A flake of what?” It’s chocolate. We Americans don’t have that.Brilliant!I love that it’s a “Demand” button instead of the more polite “Call.”I’ve never seen a toilet shaped like this.Well, OF COURSE there will be nudity. It’s the UK and “naked” is in the title.
I’ve promised Gideon a birthday trip there in May, COVID willing. Maybe he’ll be as delighted as I am with the cultural differences.
I’ve created a handy chart for you to help in your decision making.
Look. Listen. We all had to get vaccinated to start school. What is the sudden problem? And you don’t want to show proof? We’ve all had to show proof of vaccinations our whole lives for school. It’s a public safety issue.
We also have had to show proof of identity when flying. And driving. And returning to the country. And voting in many places. (Hey, Georgia!)
So what’s the big deal with vaccine passports? We’ve had vaccine records for years!
We already have government mandates for safety (OSHA, seat belts, helmets, speed limits, etc.).
But some of those things only protect the individual, while others protect, well, others.
Vaccines protect you and others. Many diseases are gone because of vaccines.
Please get yours so we can all get back to normal. And so, you know, you won’t DIE.
Observe and report 