Journey to Poplar Bluff, chapter two

The journey is ending. It was a hectic weekend and I was left with little time to blog. I'm back in the Charlotte NC airport (Greatest Airport in America, actually it's more like a mall that airplanes park at!) where I wrote my last entry 3 days ago. That unnamed chinese restuarant is called ManchuWok, just ate there again. And I'm feeling oddly disconnected from this weekend.

After landing in St Louis is was surprised that the boss had upgraded my rental and I was in a Chrysler 300. LOVED IT! Add the greatest collection of music ever assembled by man (located on my Ipod) and some GPS navigation, and that 3 hour drive through southern Missouri was almost fun. After visiting a Wal-Mart at midnight in Poplar Bluff, I think the 90 something Beauty Pageant contestants and their families raised the hotness level of that town by 3000% over the weekend. It was a hectic shoot, a lot of trouble shooting right up until show-time, and i was directing this weekend, which I love, but it means more headaches. As such (therefore) I had limited contact with the beauties. I didn't shoot the backstage footage, didn't ask them questions for interviews, and directed from the second level of a coliseum. I really didn't have any favorites going into the finals, but the winners were obvious. Add to that isolation a great book I just finished (The Man Who Heard Voices) and my laptop + Civilization IV, and I kinda kept my head down this weekend. I took a break to watch the Saints, what a waste. I'm blah.

BUT i did score aa awesome souvenir. Poplar Bluff high's mascot is THE MULES, and I found this great t-shirt at previously mentioned Wal-Mart! I now honor all my past fantasy football champion Trusty Mules teams!

AND St Louis Lambert Airport serves Boudin! At Josey Maroni's Sausage Kingdom! You think once I saw the name of that place on the airport map, that I didn't run there!

After spellchecking, I just realized I've been misspelling Missouri all weekend when labeling tapes.

Just picked up a new book at the airport, The Great Deluge (nonfic, of course, about Hurricane Katrina) by Douglas Brinkley. I met Brinkley once when I worked at C-Span, and worked an interview with him about a book he wrote on John Kerry. I was impressed by the man, and hold his work in high esteem.

Anyway, next weekend is off to Charleston South Carolina, a beautiful city that I barely see beacuse the airport, hotel and theater are within a mile of each other. Til then, thanks for your readership. I'll try to do better once I'm out of the Blahs. I think seeing my faminly tonight just might do it.

Journey to Poplar Bluff, chapter one

I just got the best fortune cookie I’ve ever had. Not in taste, though it was quite tasty. The fortune. From (insert generic Chinese restaurant name here) Wok. Charlotte airport. Stage one on this weekend’s journey to Poplar Bluff Missouri. From here I fly to St. Louise, rent a car and drive 3 hours to southern Mo, the show-me state. Poplar Bluff seems to be one of those places that’s about the same distance from every major airport (St. Louis, Springfield, Memphis, Nashville, Little Rock)

In the terminal I’m watching Flight of the Conchords, my favorite New Show of 2007. For those not cool enough to know, it’s about New Zealand’s 4th greatest comedy/folk duo who move to New York to make it big. It’s shot single-camera style (think the Office) and is hilarious in a offbeat absurd way. It was on HBO this summer and it’s funny enough to make me laugh out loud in a terminal full of people watching me watching Flight of the Conchords. On the plane I’m reading The Man Who Heard Voices, a biography about M. Night Shyamalan trying to make Lady in the Water. And it’s a excellent read.

I don’t know why but I only read Non-Fiction on airplanes. I read fiction constantly, mostly Fantasy/Sci-Fi (Forgotten Realms, Star Wars) or action/spy (Ian Flemming, Clive Cussler), and my boy Scott got me into Michael Crichton (he named his son after him after all!) But for some reason, I can’t read fiction on a plane. Maybe it’s the realness of flying, being surrounded by strangers, of the journey. It’s easier to get lost in fantastical fiction when you’re home, in the quiet alone times (I mean, dropping a deuce on the pot). I read travel accounts, biographies, history novels, as long as it’s good and it’s real. I also think it’s good to have rituals when embarking on a stressful path. I hate flying, so I have little rituals. I board the plane last. I get pleasure out of watching everyone in such a hurry to fall into line to board the plane where they will sit in a small uncomfortable place (like the back of a Volkswagen! - Mallrats) for the next 20 minutes. I , the king, will board last, after you little peons find your seats! I give the hull of the plane a little pat just before I get on, I am trusting it with my life after all. Sometimes I mutter, “C’mon baby stay together” (Han Solo, - Star Wars) I chew gum on takeoff and landing. Little rituals.

Anyway, the fortune said:

Even Popeye only ate Spinach when he had to.

Chew on that.