Last night, me and a handful of the other corp members set out on our first late-night adventure in the Delta.

It took great persuasion and a little bit of manipulation to get the regional director, Calvin, to budge and give us tips on where the cool places are located.

Reluctantly, he budged and told us we should try the Pickled Okra. LOLing already. But it sounded adorably “Mississippi” and I was all in.

Yelp provided absolutely zero amount of help. No reviews. No ratings. Not even a phone number or a website. But we had an address and we took off on the 1.2 mile walk to get our drink on.

We walked through neighbors and rows and rows of insanely cute doll houses. Yellow houses, white house, blue house, pink houses. Cobble stone paths to the front door. Porch lights. Wreaths. Wrap around porches. I was in real estate heaven. There were a lot of outdoor cats and A LOT of kittens. It took everything I had not to cuddle them and love on

After our 15 minute stroll and our fun conversations where I introduced “rose, bud, thorn” (rose=favorite part of the day, bud=what you’re looking forward to about tomorrow, thorn= least favorite part about the day), we arrived at the Pickled Okra.

First of all, I was already annoyed because we had to pay a $5 cover to get in… Like, what? But once we arrived it only escalated when the bar tender looked at me as if I was psycho when I asked if they had cider. No cider? I literally could not deal. So I paid $8 for a nasty ass vodka sprite. Wow, I just paid $14 for a shitty drink and to sit in this smokey bar, I though to myself in angst.

We sat down at a table area with a good view of the “live music”/odd sounds that were occurring on stage. I know I’m spoiled from Hipsterville and all, so I shouldn’t rag on the band. It just is hard to be impressed with things when you have literally lead an extremely privileged and well, to be honest, slightly badass, fun life.

While we sat and chat, I introduce the point game that I played with all my friends from uni. It’s basically a daring competition where the winner solely wins an extreme amount of pride. You dare each other with a bribe of “if you (insert ridiculous dare here), then I’ll give you 20 points”. As the dares get crazier, the points get higher. We enjoyed it and it was a fun game for a while, but I was easily distracted by all of the people watching.

Because, for the first time all day (and our day was 18 hours long), I had not seen that many white people in one freaking place and it was overwhelming. Pretty boys with pretty boy hair. Southern belles with HUGE hair. Plaid. Denim. Heels. Cigarettes. Bud Lite. It was interesting for sure.

In the midst of our point game, a org member came strolling in after “being missing” for about 20 minutes. “You guys!” she shouted loud over the music in her foreign Wisconsin accent. “I accidentally wandered into the black bar. The bars are actually segregated here! Look, there’s not black people in here. Well, except for you two,” she gestured at the two black corp members at our table.

She was right. There were no black people and, according to her, there were no white people in the “black bar”. Weird. This was weird for me. As a table we talked about this basically for the rest of the night. Me and two girls, one from Chicago and the other Michigan, retired a little earlier than the rest of the group, about 20 minutes before the bar closed and wandered our way back to campus.

I was beat. I was physically exhausted. I have gotten up at 6:00 a.m. like, ever. I was mentally exhausted. 

I’m ADD y’all, and focusing for an hour fifteen minute class use to feel like a success. But literally, yesterday’s programming was like endless conversations, discussions, speakers, lectures. Hours and hours on end. From 7:00 a.m. until 10:30 p.m. 

This will be an interesting ride… Stay tuned!

Sara Wildes 

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