We travelled from Garland, North West Dallas through Jacksonville, Lufkin and Rusk. Despite the fact that we were passing the first greenery we’d seen in over a week in grey-soiled, sun-bleached, southern dustbowl America, and almost an English scenery unfolding before us, this was still deepest darkest Texas. We stopped for gasoline at a Mobil garage called “Nu Cabin” you know like Fiddy cent would spell ‘new‘ Natty stayed in O.P while I went to pay for the fuel as you have to in this country. Inside West Coast gangsta rap blared from the radio while booted, bearded and hatted old-timers nodded along in time. At the front of the shop were black hair extensions, thousands of them while at the back framed pictures of Barack Obama and pastille etchings of Nubian queens being seduced by Afro-American brothers were on sale at only $59.99. As I thanked the fifty year old white woman for my receipt she told me to “have a psyche day”
I haven’t heard that word since Ant and Dec had a music career.
We pulled off the highway in a town called Jasper, rocked passed a few brothers and sister’s houses and rounded a corner, stopping in a scrap yard. Smoking a roll-up we looked in the windows of old, beaten-up junked cars and an RV in a worse state than ours. The sun was cracking the over-green tarmac before it set for dusk and the wrecking yard was like the set of a deserted stop you’d see in a recently remade Wes Craven horror movie. If you imagine a cross between Freddy Krueger and Ice Cube what boogeyman would drag us to his cellar? A kick-stepping, hip-hop son of a thousand rapists. Hick-hop.
Speaking of horror movies, envisage a race of dreadlocked, warrior aliens descending on Jane Austen’s 19th century England. “Pride and Predator”
Anyway, back to the point… I wanted to go swimming in the lake, but Natalie wouldn’t come, nor allow me to go after we saw the signs saying DO NOT FEED OR APPROACH THE ALLIGATORS.
We set up camp in the forest bayou by parking the RV, I plugged in the electrics and water, which we still don’t fully understand how to work properly. I collected firewood ($5000 fine) and built a fire while Nat showered, before like real cowboys we had jacket potatoes and smoky beans with bacon and brown sugar and Monterey Jack cheese with Jalapenos. It was the best meal we’ve had in America so far. English comfort food.
Every time I went out to tend the fire or for a wee, I took the knife, pepper spray and the “fuck-off big stick”. The full moon was the only thing that wasn’t scary; we could almost have been in Burkittville, Maryland - Blair Witch territory. A raccoon made an almighty racket in the forest and I ran back inside quivering. When I knew what it was I was fine, I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a ’gator. I soon realised that standing with my back to the van might help warn me of any human, hillbilly or witch attack, but not if an alligator wanted my calves instead of milk and Oreos as a midnight snack.
At the time of writing we are in Louisiana on our way to the capital Baton Rouge. We woke up late again and while I was having my second shower in 12 hours (score, but we needed it after a really hot night) the park ranger accosted and reprimanded Natalie not for stealing sandwiches like Yogi Bear, but for not paying yet We did pay $19 at the Ranger’s station but have vowed to try not paying again…
We’ve turned into right thieves, like a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde I shoplifted some massage oil the other day as $14 seemed too much for such a cute, pocket-sized jar. At Wal-Mart I send Natty away when I abuse the self-checkout counter, since she’s rubbish at acting innocent, but she did steal a whole clove of garlic today.. This kind of behaviour can only end in one thing; being shot down by the authorities in a hail of bullets. If it makes you feel better we wouldn’t steal from little shops, just the big, corporate fat-cats. Every Little Helps.
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