I've been meaning to write a novel about an experience I had on the City of New Orleans train line from Memphis, TN, to Jackson, 1 night after Christmas in 1970. A train ahead of us derailed, in Durant, and we were "stuck in the middle of a corn field," as a drunk woman aboard put it, for a couple of hours, during which time I walked from car to car and studied the people on it. When I sat down, alone, in one car, a queer man who claimed be a "theatre director from Memphis" tried to pick me up, at which time I hauled my young ass back to the club car, where a lively party was in full progress! On the way, I walked through one car with nuns on it (think, the movie, Airport), and another, some smelly hippies. 1 of these days I'm going to organize those memories into a novel!
This reminds me of how some malcontents used to rip the telephones off the wall in telephone booths which, I believe, was the beginning of the end of phone booths! I also heard a former Sun Herald employee on the MS coast had referred to Matthews as an "ass kisser" when he was there.
Yes, I often listen to this station in my car, and will soon try it at home. I have good vision, but I've always enjoyed this sort of reading service.
I recall telling people to "pardon my French" as I circulated amongst a most unholy mob of homosexuals in the quarter during the 2003 Southern Decadence thing!
I think they're just adorable.
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