Shipwrecked at Angola

Shipwrecked

Well... We made it back from the rodeo all in one piece.  We even had a good time, mostly.  Successful trip, I'd say.  Wouldn't you?

We began the journey later than we meant to, but, of course, that's my fault.  Somehow.

As you may or may not know, Fiancée has two sons.  One, of course is the little tornado; he's eight.  The other is a freshman in college; he's eighteen.  We decided to swing by his university and include him in our little rodeo soiree.  I was happy to do so, and I'm glad he went.  Besides, he's thin, so he doesn't really add much weight to the bus.

After picking up skinny boy, we headed to Vidalia, Louisiana to overnight in the Wal-Mart parking lot there.  I'm really getting acquainted with the Wal-Mart parking lots in America.

Crossing the Mighty Mississippi

I went to sleep with instructions to be awakened at a certain time, but Fiancée took pity on me and let me sleep in.  (For you English critics out there, "in did she allow me to sleep.")  She's really very sweet to me.  And I do try hard to appreciate her kindnesses.  My new motto is: "Clocks be damned!"  It's easier that way.

We crossed the mighty Mississippi River into Natchez, Mississippi and headed south to Angola.  I've never been this way before, so I had no knowledge of the local roads.  I followed the GPS which directed me onto a "highway" that has a speed limit of 45mph.  Hmmmph.  I came to the conclusion that 45mph was a very optimistic assessment of the maximum speed that one should travel on this particular stretch of asphalt, patches, and potholes.

The Skinny Boy

In one of the potholes I actually saw a Chinaman's hand grabbing the edge getting ready to crawl out.  I don't know if he had papers or not; I couldn't see his pockets.  I wonder if President Trump will mobilize INS to guard the potholes in Mississippi?  Being from Louisiana, I don't have much room to talk about road conditions, but at least all I ever find in a Louisiana pothole is a stray crawfish.  They never have papers, so we just eat them.

When we finally arrived at the front gates of Angola, I was directed down a road towards one of the parking areas.  Along the way, there were more than a few employees directing traffic, and I followed each one.  I did pass a sign that said "RV parking," but I ignored it because there was no one directing traffic there.  I figured that each turn would be manned.  Turns out that I was disastrously wrong.

Crossing the River

To my shame, even college boy said that we should probably follow the signs.  In a stunning departure from normality, he was right.

Shame, shame, shame on me.

So, on I drove.  Presently, I found myself wandering through the expansive fields of Angola.  After a nice tour of the prison grounds, I spied a sign that said "Rodeo."  Naturally, I followed the arrow on the sign.

As I came upon the rodeo grounds, I had another issue: there was no indication of where I should park.  I saw a line of cars going into a field, so I headed that way.  When I got to the officer directing traffic, I told him that I was looking for a place to park and he informed me that I was welcome to park in the field that he was guarding.

The Wonder Dog and I Hanging Out with Staff

Things were going swimmingly.  We had a nice extended tour of the prison grounds, and, now, we were going to park very near the rodeo grounds.  Driving past that RV sign was a happy mistake.

Sometimes, I'm just a happy idiot.

The turn into the field did look a bit sharp and narrow, but I figured that I could make it.

For the second time in one day, I figured wrong.  Once in a day is rare enough, but twice?  That's very nearly unheard of.  I probably need to be checked by a specialist or something.  Come to think of it, lately I've been feeling a bit out of sorts.  Maybe it's my liver.  Maybe it's just Fate.

I began the long, sweeping left-handed turn into the field.  It was a narrow inlet over a culvert bounded on both sides by a small ditch.  I knew that the ditch, though small, wasn't negotiable by the bus, so I tried to be careful.

Our Rescue Tractor

When I felt the left rear tire descend, I was deflated.  I was well and truly stuck in a ditch.

Crap.

On the other hand, I felt like I was probably due for a disaster.  After all, I had just driven a whole day without a mishap.  Fate is a reliable, consistent, cruel bitch.  But, she's my constant companion, so I try to get along with her as best as I can.

Some say I'm just accident prone, but that's silly.  It's that miscreant, Fate.

Up until now, I had been largely ignored by the Angola Prison staff.  In about a half a millisecond that changed dramatically.

I felt like I was the center of a bee swarm.  Lot's of blue shirts everywhere.  Holy cow.  What a mess!

As I descended from the bus, I was shocked to see my right front tire about ten inches off the ground!  Wow, that left rear tire really took a dive into that little ditch.

The guard told me that there was a tractor on the way to pull me out.  It turns out that it wasn't really all that big of a deal after all.

While we waited for the tractor, I got the Wonder Dog on his leash and took him for a little meet-and-greet with the boys in blue.  They liked him so much that a few of them posed for pictures with him.

Free at Last!

About this time, my phone dinged with a text message.  I casually pulled my phone from my pocket and could scarcely believe what I saw.  Fiancée, who may go days without answering a text because she's "busy," had texted pictures of the bus to every member of my family!

Uh, I think that our new RV being stuck in a ditch with a giant dog and little boy to care for would qualify as busy, wouldn't you?

I'm going to get her a dictionary for our next anniversary.

I did have the thought that, perhaps, she and Fate had more in common that I had previously supposed.

Hobbycrafts

Shortly after that, an inmate arrived driving a ginormous tractor.  He tied a chain to the hitch of the bus and pulled the beast out of the ditch slicker than deer-guts on a doorknob.

I was free at last.  Thank God Almighty.

Now... It was on to the event.  They say the journey is half the fun.  In actuality, the journey is when one is most likely to encounter disaster.

That's o.k. though, because good judgment comes from experience, and most experience comes from bad judgment.  This simple fact is why I have such good judgment nowadays.

Once inside the gates of the rodeo grounds, we encountered a carnival-like atmosphere.  There are so many handmade items to buy that one can scarcely see them all in one day.

Of course, there's plenty of food at the booths.  The prices are a little less than most festivals to which I've been.  Lots of Louisiana staples: po-boys, gumbo, shrimp kabobs, etc.  Oh, and the banana splits are humongoid.

The rodeo began in 1965 and has progressed to a multi-million dollar event for the prison.

If you think that you're not much interested in a rodeo, think again.  The events are so shocking that they border on crazy.  I described them in my previous post: Angola Prison (Rodeo) Bound.

Here are before and after photos of the Guts Poker event:

Guts Poker: Before

Guts Poker: After

 And here is a video clip of Guts Poker:

 I do love the rodeo.

 If you're interested in the history of Angola Prison, here are some tidbits:

Angola State Penitentiary is the largest prison in America; it's the only prison in America with it's own zip code.  It occupies 18,000 acres of beautiful farmland nestled on three sides by the Mississippi River and houses 6,000+ inmates.  The fourth side is bordered by forested hills.

Angola began life as a plantation and derives it's name from the country of origin of the original slaves who worked the fields.

It's use as a prison compound began in the mid-1800's and it was used to house Union POW's during The War of Northern Aggression (The Civil War to any Yankees amongst us).

Today, it serves as a maximum security state prison, and it houses all male death row inmates in the State of Louisiana.  Females on death row are housed in another facility, but all executions take place at Angola.

In 1965, the Angola Rodeo was born as an event intended for Angola inmates and employees.  In 1967 it was opened to the general public on a limited basis.  Since that time, it has become a major attraction and hosts thousands of guests at each event.

I find Angola State Penitentiary to be a bizarre amalgamation of extreme emotions.  The sadness, pain, and anger are palpable, but so is the joy, compassion, and camaraderie.  Unless you have the chance to talk to a man who will die on this 18,000 acre plantation, it's hard to understand that these men actually have a life.  For the most part, they make the most of it.

Men, who outsiders may think of as "hardened criminals," act in amazingly compassionate ways.  For instance, there is a hospice team comprised of inmates.  These men care for their dying peers.  They feed them, turn them, wash them, and, yes, love them.  Being in the hospital ward and seeing the care given by these men makes one remember that all men are human and made in the image of God.  The bars become irrelevant.

All's Well That Ends Well!!

For more information check out Angola's website.

For information about the rodeo, check out the Angola Prison Rodeo website.

As you may be able to tell, I do love going to the rodeo at Angola.  I especially enjoy the hobby craft area and the chance to interact with the men who sell their wares.  It's such a unique opportunity; I'm not aware of it's parallel in America.


Herdin' it 'tween the ditches (sometimes),

TheCurmudgeon