Road Trip 3: Little Rock is Clinton-tastic!

We did not have high hopes for Arkansas. Little Rock proved us wrong.

We spent three hours at the Clinton Library & Museum. In high school, I watched “The War Room” for my AP Government class, as well as old election footage from 1992. I developed huge crushes on James Carville, George Stephanopoulos and candidate Bill Clinton. But in my fantasies, I didn’t want to kiss those guys. I wanted to BE those guys. Going to this museum was like going to Disneyland for me.

The museum was supposed to look like a bridge to the 21st Century… but actually resembled a giant trailer. Aesthetics aside, the building was eco-friendly, using local materials and energy-conscious architecture. Most of the information was conveyed through a timeline with pictures, text and video. To drive points home, there was plenty of repletion between written displays and film.

They had replicas of the Oval Office and the Cabinet, which were surprising unattractive. The Oval Office felt cluttered to me, chocked with americana. The saving grace was a moon rock. During a heated discussion, Clinton would occasionally gesture to the stone, saying, “Hold on here – that rock there on that table is 3.6 billion years old – we’re only here for an instant – let’s get some perspective on this thing.”

The museum presented a glowing review of Clinton. Back in the day, government fought for change and the betterment of all people: reducing crime, increasing prosperity, supporting technological advances…. Under Clinton’s leadership, America wasn’t just a superpower,
we were a superhero.

Given the trends of the Bush years – limitations on science and technology, inept handling of the explosive economy, two unfinished wars, few achievements made… I can’t imagine how I would conceive of my country if I were born five years later.


Sadly, the museum didn’t touch on any of Clinton’s failures. There was scant mention of the impeachment proceedings, the massive investigations, the flaws of NAFTA, DOMA, or “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” His innovations in finance laid the groundwork for our current economic flummox.


We didn't see any note on this lady either.


Though I understand the omission of critical information, I could have dealt with more policy and process.
- How did Hilary affect women’s rights besides uttering one of the best soundbites I have ever heard? “It is no longer acceptable to discuss women's rights as separate from human rights.”
- What did Clinton do to help usher in the internet age? Yes, he funded computers in schools, but was there more?
- How did Clinton broker a peace?
- Why not more personal information on “Candidate Clinton”?

As we got restless, we noticed the time and understood our hunger.

We spotted over to the volunteer desk and asked what they recommended for lunch. Small-world alert: One of the volunteers was from Cleveland and had lectured at Oberlin, speaking about time-management. WHAT. I flabbergasted at her. She told us about a catfish place. The other volunteer, a kid who looked like a Boy Scout, told us about “Whole Hog Café,” where Clinton apparently used to go. “Get the Pulled Pork Sandwich. Best pulled pork sandwich I’ve ever had.”

Off we went! Whole Hog, like Rendezvous, had an unsurprising lack of vegetarian options, but given my lack of running around, I wasn’t as hungry as normal. That said, my taste of Yoshi’s pulled pork platter was amazing. Flat-out amazing. The beans and potatoes were unstoppable.

From there, we went back to the Clinton Museum Store so Yoshi could get a present to Professor Dawson, inspiration/terror to thousands of Obies. Then we strolled to Arkansas River Market → a Martial arts garden → highway.

The Little Rock – Dallas leg was a longer one, about five hours. But after about 15 minutes on route, we got a call from Yoshi’s folks. Apparently, there was a giant storm in Dallas, knocking out power and flooding to a huge swath of the city. They recommended we not make the push on and go somewhere else for the night.

Looking at the map, we spotted Texarkana and Shreveport, and aimed for them.

Road Trip 3: Meaty Pyramids of Memphis

I can’t find my Memphis notes, which is a reflection on Memphis, I think.

Memphis is famous for meat. That said, I know nothing about the culture of barbeque, nor about regional differences in barbeque making. "Dry-rub" versus "Sauce" seems more like a discussion on wanking than cooking.

That said, the dry-rub style of Memphis is one of the state’s charms. So, me and the Texan went to Rendezvous. Rendezvous is allegedly the best barbeque place in the city. However, as we got there in between lunch and dinner, they were only serving ribs and sides. Nothing else.

As I’m not a red meat eater, I couldn’t give a proper appraisal of the meats. Yoshi wasn’t impressed. These were not tender ribs, but seemed undercooked. Bitter disappointment stuck us.

From there, we went down Beale Street. We had a cool conversation with a guy named Eliot who worked at one of the gift shops on the row, then moved along. There were some musicians, playing in the park. At this point, I got a bit foggy. I had forgotten my water bottle in the car. The sun was high and venomous. Things didn’t feel fun anymore.

Interruption of Overarching Theme: Sun, Water, Sugar.
They governed our lives.





From there, we went to the abandoned arena. It was a pyramid. Apparently, they built a new one and just left the old one behind, like a refrigerator on the side of the road. Soda cans and snack wrappers pooled by the entrances, mulched with old leaves and pigeon shit. Homeless people, the lichens of the city, had taken root there.

All of the doors were locked. The brick wall was fake; Yoshi dented it with a tap. Everything was covered in dust. Despite my sleepiness, I loved this weird relic. It reminded me of the pyramid from Stargate, though it bore closer resemblance to the many shuttered and darkened shorefronts scattered thoughout the country.

“Why isn’t anyone using it?” I wondered.

“What can you do with a pyramid? The land here must be expensive— it must be impossible to find a buyer.”
Yoshi, as ever, was right. We were down the block from a row of hotels. There was a river to our left and city hall to our right. Pricey turf.

Still, as we left, I hoped some newfangled Charles Foster Kane would make the place his Xanadu.

Given lunch’s disappointment, we didn’t get barbeque. We aimed for Wang’s, but we had to walk to the car to refill the meter. By then, we were far from the Wang. We found ourselves at the second best Indian restaurant in the city, which provided adequate foods. And from there, we drove.

We had bad hotel luck that night. But eventually, there was sleep.

Road Trip 2: Nash-Nash-Nash

Where we last left our heroes… Nashville! Turkeys! Abandoned Places! Urban Sprawl! Bourbon!


While Nashville was cool, it’s not the best thing when the first part of your day is the best. Free breakfast was hard to beat; but the Parthenon was even cooler.

Nashville, for some ridiculous reason, has a replica of the Parthenon. Both Yoshi and I knew a bit about its arrangement, structure and purpose. That said, the coolest thing was definitely the size. The damn thing was huge. Really, freakin’ huge. We walked around it, and around the surrounding park, filled with joggers slogging through the heat.



According to the City, Elliston is a “young, trendy neighborhood.” We headed there hopefully, anticipating folks who had tattoos and liked The Magnetic Fields. There would be bicycles! Vanderbilt students carrying copies of Proust! Older folks playing chess with younger kids!

Not so much. Nope.

Elliston wasn’t really a neighborhood, but a street. An okay street, but a street. The two rock clubs weren’t anything during the day and there were only a few open stores. The interwebz announced, “No trip to Elliston Place is complete without a stop at the Elliston Place Soda Shop.” So, we stopped. I believe the trip would have been complete without the Soda Shop. The food tasted like high school lunch.

We were also told about “Elder's Bookstore, which has been serving Nashville's literary set since 1930.” Elder’s Bookstore was, as Yoshi put it, “the worst kind of library.” Dark, dank and unwelcoming, the walls were plastered with signs to be quiet and threats against small children. Conservative agit-prop decorated bookshelves. The bookshop owners sat in overrun desks, quiet and solemn.

From there, we saw Donny Smutz, a contemporary surreal artist who uses politically-loaded images. My favorite piece was called Rapture, showing a man staring at a painting that depicts him, moving through a space. At his right was an unplugged TV, showing a similar image. Upon seeing the art, the man had unplugged the TV. Or vice-versa – there’s no clarity of time. While my description doesn’t do it justice, it evoked feelings of introspection, artistic relevance, consumer culture and passivity, conception of self… It did a lot for me.


Next to that gallery, the Tinney were a few others, once showing SCAD artists, the other one involving redone bicycles.

Then, the Frist. The Frist was fascinating. A former Post Office, remodeled into a museum had an amazing art deco style. “Like Brazil,” Yoshi said. It looked prepared for a high-class cocktail party or a dystopian show trial.


The Frist alternated between traditional shows and new displays-- we just missed one on Body and Flesh. The first show was found was an interactive display to teach children how to make all sorts of art, from abstract representations to figure drawing and printmaking. It was very cool and very simple – a set of stations, most unmanned, with precise instructions on how to start artistic processes. If I had a child, I would totally take zir there. Also, the museum was very inexpensive: 3$ per college students, and kids were free. I will be using my Oberlin ID for much savings.

The second show was on museum design, displaying new structures from across the world. My favorite was the “friendly alien” museum in Graz, Austria. The idea of a building as a presence with personality and charm is hardly new. However, the Pixar-like charms of the museum strike me as something new – magical realism intruding in.

Besides having large reproductions of the architectural drafts, and models of the completed structure, the Friendly Alien building also had a video of how each nostril of the beast was made. it was totally a Miyazaki monster.


I also enjoyed the futurism museum in France, the Stonehenge visitor center and a totally unfeasible planned art/tech building in NYC. Many of the new museums took into account details like LEED, multi-use spaces and architecture’s relationship with the overall feeling in the museum. Form complimenting function. The Frist itself was an excellent study. The retro sleekness and the trappings of a post office made the building a foil for its works. The space itself required creativity, and added a layer of dept to each display.

After Frist, we went to 12 South, one of the allegedly cool walking areas in Nashville. While it wasn’t as empty as Elliston, it was a yuppie daydream, lots of restaurants, a salon, clean-cut kids. Alas. After driving through disappointed, we parked on a hill, and looked at a monument. erected on Armistice Day to memorialize the end of the Civil War. It showed the Spirit of Unity, personified by a rather bishonen boy holding two horses, the emblems of the North and the South. Rather like Equus, really.

We strolled around the park. Some squirrels had sex in front of us. We felt uncomfortable with the level of consent displayed.

Realizing that our blood sugar was tanking, we went to the “Frothy Monkey,” a coffee shop, for ideas on where to eat. The barista was a sweetie, a musician who was now taking university classes. Also, after a bazillion hours of only Yoshi and I, it was fascinating to speak to someone who was under thirty who wasn’t… us.
His best recommendation was a café/grocery in the town where the elderly stars of the Grand Ol Opry lived out their sunset years. At this cafe, especially on Sundays, they’d flock together on the porch and scratch out some tunes.

Imagine Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson and Larry Bird playing some ball on the street. The best players in the business, not worrying about being the best. Just having fun. Now take out the basketball and make it country music.

Apparently, the café made pretty good fries too.

While that sounded amazing, we were hungry. After a few false starts, we ended up at Bosco’s: expensive and unsatisfying. Had a good talk, as a result. Not an easy talk, but something that need to happen.


Night driving. A false hotel, too pricey and full. A new hotel. Sleep.

Road Trip! Day 1: The Epic Kentucky.

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I am the pointy-head.

(Please let me not become a tool.)