“There has to be a reason for all of this. A fascinating experience is about to come,” I kept telling myself.
Typically, when I’m referred by a friend of a friend to be hosted at a future destination on the route, very rarely does the referral fall through for any sort of reason. After a smilingly lively weekend with the quartet of marine biologists in Ocean Springs, I left this morning for Gautier/Pascagoula.
1) Arthur & Cathy, the airboat tour operators I spent a night with last month in Des Allemands, Louisiana, told me they had a friend in Pascagoula I could stay with. 2) Fellow walker Andrew Forsthoefel hooked me up with Michael L, a friendly man who had hosted him while walking through Pascagoula. And before I left today: 3) Ocean Springs hosts Jeni et al told me they thought their friend George would probably like to host me in Gautier, the town just shy of Pascagoula. Stepping into a day with three referral connections is one of the most promising ways to start any day on the road, and I don’t know that there’s ever been a time that three promising pitches have led to a strike out– till today.
As the day’s miles were beginning, Cathy told me that their Pascagoula friend just sent them a message from Colorado. Upon reaching the outskirts of Gautier, Jeni texted me that Gautier George is also out of town. And Michael L wasn’t responding to three phone calls and a text message over 24 hours.
From afar, the people of Pascagoula weren’t welcoming me in with open arms– yet the day’s weather was beautiful– perfect 70-something weather with wind at my back. A 17-mile day didn’t pull much sweat from me at all.
All options exhausted, including a couple of calls to local churches, I felt impelled to simply continue forward, into Pascagoula. Such uncertain end-of-day scenarios really used to stress me out through the first few hundred miles. Where would I end up staying???
3,500 miles into this Walk, however, wisdom was on my side. Something always works out. It may not be the something I most hope for, but even when it ends up being a tougher evening than anticipated, I always end up experiencing and learning something important.
Though I know by now that “it will all work out,” I still feel my subconscious shifting into more of a hyperaware survival mode when facing these situations. Finishing off the day’s miles by walking across the large bridges of the west & east forks of the Singing River, I had to focus on staying calm, with the faith that these other three hosting opportunities had fallen through in order to simply open a door for a new and yet-to-be-known opportunity. I just typically prefer to know what those new opportunities are as soon as possible– especially when there’s only an hour of sunlight remaining.
I’d quickly seen Andrew Forsthoefel’s blog this morning before I left Ocean Springs, and I remember reading that upon arriving to Lampasas, he walked straight into the Police Station to ask for their assistance. They placed him in touch with a local ministerial alliance, who rented him a motel room. I’d only walked into a police station seeking assistance once, in Willits, California, and they offered me no assistance. I’d never tried since– but as the other opportunities has fallen through, I felt inspired to stop into the police station in Pascagoula.
Google Maps showed me that the Pascagoula police station was close to the Hwy 90 bridge, and I was inside their front doors within five minutes of stepping into town. I approached the window and I explained my story and my desire (a safe place to sleep) to the dispatcher, Ms. Angie. Angie told me she’d contact her lieutenant, who’d be returning in 20 minutes, to see if he could help me with options. Angie sounded sincere, which felt promising.
Lieutenant Barnes showed up with a large, enthusiastic smile on his face. My normal modus operandi is that I only ask for something as simple as a place to camp, yet I’m always ready for floor space or more as well. Lt. Barnes showed me some space under the nearby bridge where I could camp, and though I was ready to accept it, he could tell I was also enthusiastic to explore other options. He welcomed me into his office, sat me down, and got busy on the phone. He called people he knew, including owners of a local B & B, which he knew would be a great hosting experience for me. But they were full. Lt. Barnes was prepared to continue making calls on my behalf, but having told me that he’d find a spot for me within the station if nothing else worked out, I was ready to take him up on this offer sooner than later.
I’ve been hosted in a number of motels and B&Bs, all of which are nice, but being hosted for a night in a police station promised to be a unique and memorable experience indeed!
Lt. Barnes introduced me to the staff, and requested an officer take me to the grocery store and a nearby restaurant– far better service than most motels give their guests! I was taken on a tour of the jail portion of the station, and invited to sleep in one of the cells, if I wished. My other option was to sleep on the exercise room floor. Option B simply was easier, and felt more inviting too. The cells felt creepy. I’m sorry for those who have to spend days and nights within them. No windows. Scary.
Lt. Barnes normally supervises police activity from the station; however, he gets out and drives around some every shift as well– to keep from feeling stuck behind an office desk for 12 hours at a time. He invited me with him, and took me on a through-police-lieutenant’s-eyes nighttime tour of the town. He showed me the shipbuilding plant, the oil refinery, the natural gas storage facility, and Mississippi Phosphates. He drove me along the beach and showed me the multimillion-dollar waterfront homes, many of which have been constructed next to still-vacant lots with residual concrete foundations after Hurricane Katrina.
Though over a mile into town, Katrina’s storm surge still flooded the police station. Up to ten feet flooded Pascagoula, and the surge pushed water in for miles, up to Interstate 10 and beyond. Everyone was flooded to some extent, and sadly, as was the case from New Orleans to the east, many who chose not to evacuate perished in the storm.
As he told me of the 12-hour shifts they worked for 30 days straight during Katrina and the aftermath, as he described the knowledge of the city and the efforts they make to keep it safe, and as I could tell that he genuinely served to create a better world for himself and the people around him, my gratitude and respect for the police profession grew. Many times I’ve received small forms of assistance from police across the miles. And now that I’m being hosted for the first time in a police station, especially when left with no other simple option at the end of the day, my gratitude for Lt. Barnes, the Pascagoula police staff, and the good cops of the globe really shot through the roof.
Now I understand why all three of those friend-of-friend referrals were all unavailable to host me!!
How Awesome!!
Waiting lobby of Pascagoula Police Station. I was told the on-duty lieutenant would soon come to talk to me about a safe, legal place to stay for the night.
Telling Lt. Barnes that I was willing to settle for any safe place in town, indoors or out, to rest my head for the night, he first showed me an area under the large Hwy 90 bridge, behind the Police Station. "Many of the cross-county bicyclists sleep here," Lt. Barnes explained to me. He could see that, though willing to accept, I wasn't very enthusiastic about this. He then invited me into the station, where he'd help me find local accommodation indoors.
Lt. Barnes directed one of the staffers to go help me find something to eat. Later in the evening, Barnes took me on a ride around town, during his evening patrol. I received the ENORMOUS privilege of being shown the City of Pascagoula through a police lieutenant's eyes.
They offered to allow me to spend a night in a jail cell, which I at first wanted to do just to say "I once spent a night in jail." However, once inside the cells, testing them out, I felt this eerie darkness that would NOT have allowed me a pleasant night's rest, so I instead slept on the weight room floor.
Spending the night on the weight room floor of the Pascagoula Police Station. One of the jail trustees sanitized a jail mat for me. I slept atop it and enjoyed a great night's rest.
Farewell, Pascagoula Police-- Thank You All for the Wonderful Hospitality!