Pascagoula

I'm back in Mississippi. Hurricane Emily decided to take on Mexico rather than the U.S., leaving the Gulf Coast unmolested, so I flew down this morning to continue the work I started here last month.

The flight was uneventful, although I just made it with mere minutes to spare (the airport parking lot was full, the security line was a mile long, etc.). The Hertz counter at Mobile was without cars, but after a short wait, they found one for me, and I drove over to the job site in Pascagoula.

I'm staying at a Best Western in some sort of franchise hell off of I-10. There's a whole development here of fast-food restaurants, chain hotels, and gas stations - there's no reason for this little metropolis to exist except for quick access to the Interstate. There're no homes, culture, soul, spirituality or scenic beauty here. The only values seem to be the current price of gasoline, and people's worth is measured by the fullness of their gas tank.

The big attraction in the area appears to be the casinos in nearby Biloxi. Signs along the interstate announce "Wayne Newton!," "Lee Underwood!," and "Cats!." When I think of Mississippi, I think of the land of William Faulkner and Tennessee Williams, but I am offered Las Vegas and cheap slots.

Oh, well. I chose the Best Western because it advertised high-speed internet access, but it doesn't seem to be working in any of the rooms - I am typing this in the hotel's breakfast bar along with four or five other guests pecking away at their laptop's keyboards. Company loves misery . . .