Art's world of the weird and wonderful

I didn't really want to create another Swift experiences thread, so that's precisely what I'm going to do.
But, I will be taking a more subjective approach to this.

What does that mean?

Well, imagine driving a load 350 miles from Savannah to Rocky Mount with a stop in Fayetteville, due to deliver two days from now.
Now imagine the same trip, but with only the observation that birds in North Carolina have amazing accuracy at highway speeds.

Trivial information, maybe even useless, but still, in some odd way, good to know.

I have a little over a week before I actually board the bus to Tennessee, a fact which is sometimes lost on my recruiter.
"When are ya coming?", he says. "Next Friday", I reply.
"Alright, see ya Tuesday!", he says, and hangs up before I can correct it.

At the strip mall clinic for my DOT physical, the nurse had me change into a bizzaro pair of throwaway blue paper undies.
Surprising, then, that Doctor Feelgood wasn't interested in checking my cough.

I was very happy about this because Bret Michels' mug was staring right at me from a magazine rack near the door.
The juxtaposition of Bret Michels and the "Successories" poster on the opposite wall was not lost on me.

Instead, the good doctor had me stand, and walked me through two minutes of "Free Lesson Night at the Fred Astaire Dance Studio". Happy to say, all my limbs were there and could move, and the holes in my ears did not connect through my skull.

On the way out, I noticed a whiteboard where nurses had written their names, along with sentences, such as, "I will attach receipts to paperwork" and "I will maintain specimen samples alphabetically".

On to the DMV for my permit, stuck in line before a nice young lady who, unfortunately, did not have proof of citizenship despite living in the US since age 3. Along with maintaining homeland security, the clerk at the desk strictly enforced the "Wait here until being called" sign that I somehow missed.

Satisfied that I was no immediate threat, she ushered me to a test station near the windows, with a great view of the afternoon sun.
Did I mention amazing accuracy? Me and that touch screen were, like, telepathic.

And then, on to get my ID, wondering whether I should bother checking myself in the mirror for what is essentially a mug shot that I will bury in my wallet until Law Enforcement demands to see it.
I don't think Homeland Security lady would let me cover myself up, though.

 

I learned from my Greyhound trip to the Swift Academy in Millington that our Intermodal Terminal here in Milwaukee is the cleanest, nicest place you could ever hope to arrive/depart in a bus. The only thing it needs is a cafeteria. There used to be a diner, when it was just the Amtrak station. The homeless probably miss it dearly.

Chicago's terminal is nice, too, which it should be. Nowhere near as much room to spread out in as Milwaukee. About a quarter of the seating for 6 times the number of gates. They do have a cafeteria, though.

I kept thinking of "North by Northwest" at some of these stops. The scene where Cary Grant gets dropped off in the middle of nowhere. This is a bus stop? Yep, those places exist. Hole in the wall motel = bus stop.
Arts and Crafts store = bus stop. McDonalds = bus stop.
I've lived in the city too long...

I've never been to Memphis before, but I know it's on the Mississippi River. I know about Elvis of course, Sun studios, Memphis Blues.
I even know about the Peabody Hotel and their ducks.
But....what the hell is that gigantic PYRAMID?
Did Las Vegas open a franchise?
Oh right. Memphis. The Egyptian city. Egypt, pyramids, I get it.
Wonder how the citizens feel about it though - great big giant pyramid plopped down next to the interstate.
Couldn't we just have a little King Tut statue in front of City Hall, or something?

The greyhound terminal is right across from a beautiful minor league ballpark, all brick and iron.
Just gorgeous, and tickets are probably dirt cheap. Too bad it's January.

I meet the other four or five people who are also beginning with Swift. Most have been on the bus with me since Chicago.

The shuttle driver arrives. He's full of stories about Elvis. He drove Elvis here, he drove Elvis there. He introduced Elvis to Priscilla. They made out in his limo. He took Lisa Marie to school. He introduced her to Michael Jackson. Let her cry on his shoulder when they split up.

We head out toward Millington, and trucking is everywhere you look. More semi dealerships than I've seen collectively in my life, all piled into one city.
No wonder Elvis started out as a trucker - that was the town.
That's all right, Mama.
Uhh, thank you very much.

 

I was figuring Millington to be a suburb of Memphis, but it's really not. It's very much it's own sizable town. There was once a large naval airbase here, which is now a civilian airport, and Swift's training ground.

I'll skip the wikipedia rundown, except to mention "Goat Days" - the local festival which runs September 10th and 11th, the highlight of which is the "Goat Chariot Race". Take note, prospective students - schedule your training for September!

US 51 runs North from Memphis along the western edge of Millington, where our motel - the Admiralty Inn - is located. It's as busy a 4-lane highway as you'd see in any metropolitan area. There's all sorts of shops, restaurants, and a supermarket.
Which means we won't starve.

The Admiralty has one peculiarity - the sign out front bears different messages facing different directions. Looking North, it reads, "Happy New Year! Ask about our Jacuzzi special!". Looking South, it reads, "Friends don't let friends go to hell."
Perhaps this motel marks the exact border of the Bible Belt?
I know our room had no porn channel, but I wonder if the rooms on the other side did? Hmm.

At any rate, they can't be too strict about it, because four young men checked in, requesting the bridal suite. Yeah, I don't know either.

Day one, we all gather in the parking lot at 5:45 AM for the Swift bus, or, as some of us refer to it, the prison bus. Or the boot camp bus. The kind of bus you rode in middle school, or traveled with the band or the team to your meet. If it's been a while, prepare to relive the experience of 19th Century suspension technology.

Our driver - and instructor - Tony, takes us down back roads, over hill and over dale, and we wonder... where the hell are we going?
Back to Memphis, to the Swift offices, for our drug screen. Oh.

You know the old drug test joke - "I passed. I made it in the cup."?
Well... some folks couldn't... These things do happen.

One is one of my three roommates. He has to return home and get a medical clearance.

Millington, along with the rest of the south, experiences unusually cold weather during our stint. It is 60 degrees the day we arrive. The following day it drops to 40. We're lucky to see 30 the rest of the two weeks. Many of us planned poorly, or thought Tennessee weather in January was like spring break in Florida. People wrap themselves in motel towels and pillowcases to stay warm. One of my roommates hasn't even brought a jacket. He tries putting on every bit of clothing he does have, but ends up leaving 3 days in. The rest of the group quickly buys the local stores out of gloves, scarves, and wool hats.

We get snow the second week, and rain which quickly turns to ice. The instructors swap driving days with classroom days and hope enough melts to allow us to complete the week.

Every morning, Tony stops the bus and goes into the motel office to get a cup of the coffee we aren't allowed to touch. He's one of the classroom instructors. The other is Horace, who likes to crank classic R&B on the bus. Horace is kind of like Morgan Freeman's character in "Seven", if Morgan Freeman had to teach a class of Brad Pitts how to do a log book and plan a trip.

"This can't be my last assignment. It's just gonna go on, and on, and on..."