Day #7 - 3/19/2011 - Dauphin Island, AL to Gulfport, MS - 26 biking miles, 53 by cab

What a day...and not in a good way!  We covered 79 miles from Dauphin Island, AL to Gulfport, MS, starting on bikes, finishing in a cab, losing my iPod.

The Dauphin Island House/Bed and Breakfast was quaint and comfortable.  Having slept on 7 different surfaces over the 7 preceding nights, my back recognizes a good bed on contact.  

Panniers pretty much packed, a little stuff remains to find its place on the bike or around my waist.

We barely spent any time at the Dauphin Inn, but it had a nice feel to it, as well as a great location overlooking the water.  The family room/library in the center was warm and bathed in WiFi:

I could have seen hanging out here for a few more days.

As usual, we departed in darkness, trying to get an early start before the morning traffic picked up.

From the top of the Dauphin Island Bridge out of Dauphin Island, the setting Super Perigee moon reflects on the water.

The many small bridges and roadways took us over water and provided another nice view of the changing colors of the early morning sky.

Lani was not as interested in the sunrise as me.  I had to work quickly as mosquitoes started to swarm.

I continued to be awed by the number of small - and obviously economically depressed - towns on our ride.  A collection of mobile homes that had obviously weathered many storms highlighted Coden, Alabama , a tiny coastal fishing village in Southern Mobile county, Alabama.  The name of the community is derived from Bayou Coden, the bayou that it is situated upon. Bayou Coden is an English translation of the original French name, Bayou Coq I'nde.  Initially, I drove by it and, after passing the local cemetery, circled back.

The heart of Coden, Alabama; just a group of mobile homes on the edge of the next hurricane.

Circling back turned out to be fortuitous as I was able to see with the locals saw early each morning.

A half-risen sun at Coden, Alabama

Yes...I do have a sunrise obsession.

These pictures are damned hard to properly expose

What I really need is a neutral density graduated filter to balance exposure between the bright sky and darker foreground.

I kept trying.  The sign on the left says "Lilleyville", obviously related to the nearby "JT Lilley Road".  The Google failed me in my attempts to lean more about Lilleyville and JT Lilley.  The small rectangular home on the left was in good shape, had a nice porch...it looked homey.

Zillow lists some available beach-front property here at a not-too-unreasonable price.

I was beginning to feel like Icarus, staring into the early morning sun.

It takes about 4 minutes for the sun to fully appear.

"No more photos, I mean it!"      "Anybody have a peanut?"

I started humming "red rubber ball".

The Seekers also covered "Red Rubber Ball."

Just one more...I swear it.

I mean, it's not as if I can come back here tomorrow.

 We passed many small local cemeteries.  Like this one in Coden, each gave the feeling that it held the history of the town within its soil:

The local cemetery in Coden...if it could speak, what would it say about this town that used to be known for its resorts, until  a hurricane in 1906 ended the hotel business?

Biking through  these vast rural stretches, you begin to realize that there a lot of people living in the spaces between the cities and that they live differently: simple homes, often mobile, RV or a pre-fabricated home dropped onto a foundation, usually on a sizable piece of land.  The sense of community is probably stronger, there is an unusual density of churches and the politics are way different:

A deficiency of NPR and the New York Times combined with an excess of Limbaugh and Fox has predictable results.

When the trip started, I thought about photographing all the churches, cemeteries and road kill we passed.  This clearly would have been a cosmic undertaking.  Still, some sites stood out:

True story: when I was at the West LA VA as the internal medicine program director, I had a true secretary from hell experience with a woman named "Roz" who tortured me for 9 months.  How bad was she?  It took her 3 days to get past the "Press any key to proceed" command on the computer as the keyboard lacked an "anykey".  Anyway, one day when she was really p.o.'ed with me she came into my office, stood at the corner of my desk and, while pointing a finger at me, chanted "May you boil like the blood of Satan, may you suffer like the blood of Christ.  You will have no victory."  I thought of Roz when I saw this sign.  Good times...good times.

And, it was here in Grand Bay, Alabama, noted since 1973 for its Watermelon Festival, that we experienced our first significant debacle.  For a couple of days, Lani had been complaining of excessive difficulty pedaling, concerned that there was something wrong with the bottom bracket on her derailleur.  And, in fact, I had noticed that her bike rolled more slowly than mine, such as when we were coasting downhill.  Anyway, things reached a climax in what could have been called the middle of nowhere, but actually had a name: Grand Bay.  She pulled over, muttering "no mas, no mas", but I could see some outpost not to far ahead, which turned out to be a lonely, rather shabby mini-mart with a slow steady stream of customers. 

Able to bike no more because of trouble with her rear wheel/gears, Lani and I contemplate our next move.

Using the iPhone powered to the Google, I identified what appeared to be two bike ships in Biloxi, our destination about 45 miles away.  I called two taxi services in Biloxi, seeking a minivan that could hold two bikes and a pick-up from Grand Bay.  It turned out that taxis in Mississippi could not pick up from Alabama.  I then found a taxi service in Mobile.  The dispatcher/owner, "Big Boss" to his drivers but more commonly known as "Matt", indicated he had the driver with a minivan who could take us to Biloxi; it would be $100 cash and, if necessary, we'd stop at an ATM.  I agreed; Lani and I waited.

We met the owner of the GrandPak2 minimart, a Cambodian man who immigrated here in 1982 with his family.  His spoke proudly of his two children, whom he had put through school and whom had obviously done well.  His store was more than a bit run down.  I bought a Milky Way bar, always a favorite but moreso now as a quick source of tasty carbs.  The bar obviously had been on the shelf for awhile.  Months, I was guessing.

The taxi/minivan eventually arrived and, with difficulty (after removing the rear seat and the front wheel of Lani's bike) we had things loaded:

The van was uncomfortably stuffed with our bikes and gear.

Two drivers came: a young woman who drove and was in training, and her husband, who helped guide and point out things to her.  They were in the early 20s and seemed nice enough.

Before climbing in, I removed my earphones (listening with only one earphone, of course) and set my iPod down on the pannier next to where I was going to sit.  It took some gymnastics to get into my seat and  get situated.  After buckling up, I looked down for my iPod and couldn't find it, figuring it fell onto the floor of the car.  We all took off.

Small talk was made (sadly, I forget their names).  She was from Mobile, he was from St. Louis.  They had a son, Cameron, who was 6 months old.  They had just spent the winter months with his family in St. Louis, but she found the cold to inhospitable, this being her first time in winter weather.  They moved back to Mobile to be near/with her family.  There was some nepotistic relationship between her and Boss Man Matt.

Approaching Biloxi, Lani and I determined that both bike shops in Biloxi had closed down.  Gulfport, the next town, had an open shop.  She and him assured us that Gulfport was not far...we drove on.

Arriving at the bike shop, we unloaded our bikes/gear as I searched for my iPod; it was not to be found...anywhere.  The thing about losing an iPod, as you probably know, is not just the cost of the device, but the thought of rebuilding your 60 gigs of music, movies and playlists.  And, in this case, I had lost an important biking tool.

Since they drove us a bit farther, I paid the drivers $120 for the ride.  The guy asked if I wanted change; I assured them that this was fine and that we appreciated their help.  They took off and Lani wheeled her bike into the shop.  I called back the mini-mart and spoke to the owner, asking if he could check his parking lot near where we loaded our bikes; he found nothing.  Lani emerged from the shop and we went looking for lunch, settling on Thai Lotus a Thai-Vietnamese restaurant where we had a great meal.

We walked back to the bike shop and received the decisive news about Lani's bike: her rear tire pressure was low.

Lani with her rear tire now inflated to the proper pressure.

That was it?  That was the source of the angst?  The $120 taxi ride?  The loss of my iPod?  The colossal waste of time?  A day where we only biked 20 miles?  So it would seem.

We returned to our bikes and headed back to where all the hotels clustered near the interstate (I-10) and started making calls.  It was local spring break and the first 8 motels I called, starting with lowest price and proximity were booked.   Finally, the Marriott Residence Inn near the airport came though with a room that had just opened it; it was their only room.  We were, fortunately, only minutes away and after a sucky day were eager to unwind.

Esconced in Marriott comfort, my phone rang; it was Big Boss Matt.

Matt: is this the guy with the bikes?

Me: it is.

Matt: did you lose something on the taxi?

Me: I did.

Matt: what was it?

Me: an iPod in a black case with an elastic arm band.

Matt: you left it on the roof of the van.  I have it.

Me:  the roof of the van?  That's incredible!

Matt: Why is it incredible? (spoken with suspicion)

Me: It's incredible because I can't believe the iPod survived the ride intact to Gulfport on the top of the van.  

Matt: well it did.  For the same $120 fare, I can send my drive to you with the iPod.  Otherwise, it's going in the lost and found.

So, now I'm having two thoughts:

1. The fare, technically, was only $100
2. Why not ship it?

Keeping the first thought to myself, I continued:
Me: First, I'd like to thank you for calling me.  You didn't have to do that and I really appreciate it.  (cautiously) But, you could ship it to me, can't you?  I can send you the money and you can ship it?
Matt: Can't trust the iPod here over the weekend, too many people and it could get stolen.  I can't be responsible.  I'll send my driver for $120, otherwise it goes into the lost and found and you can pick it up.
Me: well, we both know my daughter and I are on bikes and we can't make it to Mobile.  You just can't hold on to it yourself and ship it on Monday?


In brief, no...he wasn't going to.  I saw this conversation was going nowhere useful and, needing some time to think, asked if I could call him back.  Clearly, something was not right and I couldn't figure it out.  Over my near 30 years as an in-patient physician and having spent a lot of bedside time with many patients and families, facing many challenging conversations, I feel pretty good about my ability to read people and address their unspoken concerns...but this made no sense.

About an hour later, I called back.
Me: Hi...this is Bob.
Matt:  (with hostility) Who are you?
Me: Bob, the guy on the bike with his daughter, the person whose iPod you are holding on to.
Matt: (increasing hostility) What do you mean by that??
Me: I mean you are holding on to my iPod, the one you called me about earlier so you could return it to me.
Matt: Well, I'm not liking your attitude.  I don't like the way you accused me of lying about how the iPod was on the roof of the van.
Me:  I didn't accuse...
Matt:  You said you didn't believe the iPod made it on the roof.
Me: I said that because it just seemed unlikely that it could survive the 45 mile ride without falling off, that's how it was amazing.  I wasn't doubting anybody (though I was certainly wondering because I was pretty sure I had put the iPod on my pannier inside the van.)
Matt: well, that's how it sounded to me.  $120 or it's going into the lost and found.

 I had one last strategy to appeal to his sense of decency, should one exist.

Me: Look, you had quoted me a $100 fare to Biloxi.  When we arrived in Gulfport, I gave the drivers $120 because it seemed like the right thing to do...
Matt: Now there you go, lying again.  You're not going to get anywhere lying and treating people like that.  I just happen to be sitting here having a beer with the driver.  Let me check with him agin'...

I wait...he returns.

Matt:  (now really irritated).  He charged you a $120 fare.  I don't have patience for people like you.  It'll be in the lost and found.  You can come get it.  We can negotiate more later.  [click]

And he hung up.  At this point, I was mentally over the whole thing.  What else was there to negotiate?  I was not going to allow myself to be extorted for $120.  I figure I'd send a blistering letter of complaint to whatever state agency regulates the taxi industry.  And, believe me, I give great blistering letter.

Then, about an hour later, Matt called back.

[one ring dingy]

Me: Hi, this is Bob.

Matt:  this is Matt from A1 Taxi.

Me: It's nice to hear from you, Matt.  How are you doing?

Matt: Fine.  Look, here's how it's going to be.  You're going to send me a box with paid return shipping.  I'll put the iPod in and send it back.   (All the while, he was on a separate line with someone else...I could hear him, "I'm on the phone with him now..this is what we'll do.")

And that was it.  But, here's what I think happened.  After  I put the iPod in the van, I had to turn my back to climb in and I'm suspecting the guy driver took it.  When he returned to the taxi station, he told the boss about the extra drive to Gulfport and how he charged me $120, probably saying that I paid without a tip.  But, my comments and alternative story must have made Matt a little suspicious and I'm guessing that the girl driver confessed under Matt's scorching interrogation. And, even though I'd never met Matt, I had this feeling he gave great scorching.

I should have asked Matt when he called back about why he changed his tact, but didn't want to antagonize him.  I spent an hour at the UPS store and about $70 to overnight ship Matt a box within a pre-paid box that will, if Matt acts promptly, will be shipped overnight to our next destination in Baton Rouge.  We'll see.

What a day.  At least the accommodations were nice.

Outside the Residence Inn before going inside.

It was more like a studio apartment...a really nice one.

Feeling quite a home.

We picked up a take-out pizza and finished the day on a bright note...minus one iPod with 60gig of music and video.