Day 1 - Harrisonburg, VA to Memphis, TN

Holler.

We're going to try to get ourselves caught up here in a hurry; we've got almost two days of traveling done, but zero words of blogging yet.

After a heartwarming send-off party hosted by Julianna, we got five hours of sleep, finished packing, cleaned up Martin's apartment and got on the road just after 11 a.m.

We were already well behind schedule, so we had to (U-)haul ass for about 700 miles south through Virginia and Tennessee, where we would make our first barbecue-related stop in Memphis: Charlie Vargo's Rendezvous.

This place is supposed to be home of the best ribs in the world, but Martin and I agreed that although they were very good, they were also overrated. The fact that the two-hour wait we were told to expect was actually only a 25-second wait probably should have tipped us off.

The dry rub was delicious, and no matter what Martin tells you, I only put sauce on my last one. The loin, however, was fantastic. Worth driving from Knoxville for, I'd say, but not worth driving 700 miles for. Fortunately for us, it was on our way anyway.

After that, we took a walk down the street to take a look at the Mighty Mississippi, which we would be crossing in just a few hours time. That was followed with a walk to Beale Street, which is where the magic started.

You come down the street to a stretch of five blocks or that had been blockaded by the police, sherrif's deputies, firefighters and private security, who are checking you ID just to let you walk down the street, where you may then proceed to do all the drinking in public that you could want.

The streets are packed with frat boys, hippies, thugs, street performers, party whores, trannies, yuppies, and me and Martin. There's drinking, dancing and carousing as far as the eye can see down the brick road. Thousands of people from all walks of Tennessee life were jammed together to spend a Saturday night together, and the amazing thing was how laid back the whole scene was.

Martin was dressed like a slob, but no one looked twice. Big crowds of badass black folk are standing around, but no one's interested in acting tough. Guys are making catcalls at girls, and they just think it's cute. Everyone's bumping into each other's beers, but hey man, don't worry about it, it's cool.

Nothing chills me out like seeing other laid-back people, and this was about as good as it gets. I don't remember how or why we eventually decided to leave the vicinity, but I wish we hadn't.

We walked back to the U-Haul, drove down a few blocks to some on-street parking across from Confederacy Park, and slept in the cab. I slept like a baby, as did the homeless man on the bench right across the sidewalk, but Martin tells me he woke up several times.

We've got to head out for the Hell House now, but we'll have more updates later tonight.

Road Trip Round-Up: One day, two states, 748 miles