The Journey

It took days of driving through the dusty prairies where you can watch your dog get lost for a week. Although the wheat Fields waxed and waned like waves on the ocean, I just wanted to be somewhere exciting. Memphis was the home of the Civil Rights museum, the famous restaurant where Elvis ate his peanut butter and banana sandwich. Memphis was a city of culture, and Southern Hospitality.
Booking a room downtown, I was excited about taking the trolley to the museum. Waking up earlier than I normally do, I stood waiting holding my fifty cents like a school kid. As Southern Men walked by, I noticed all of them had polished shoes, that was rarely seen back home, up north. When I finally boarded the trolley we went down a street with businesses that had bars on the windows, and streets with few people walking. Then the trolley stopped.
"can a trolley just stop"? I murmured. that is not possible.
The conductor looked at me, and asked me If I was goin in for a biscuit. Well, I was not sitting there alone!
I sat in the booth with a shrine to Elvis, occasionally scowling at the driver for making me eat a biscuit and wait for him. Then, when we were finished, with a slow southern drawl he asked me why I wanted to be so quick, that museum I was goin to ain't open on Tuesdays.
Sometimes we are in hurry to finish our journey. Sometimes we have the trip so planned, that we cannot even linger in the southern sun and enjoy a biscuit. So, the trolley stops, maybe we try again another day.......the goal was to enjoy the journey