Texas - Waco

There are a few key tenets you learn while travelling: never use the communal condiments, trust your gut, and if it feels safe, take opportunities outside your comfort zone when they arise. 

I can list a few situations in all my travels where I've gone along with something that could have potentially been either dangerous, or just not a good choice in the long run. I mean even on this trip, agreeing to stay inside DJ's house instead of in his driveway in the van in Santa Cruz was risky - we'd never met him before! He could have been someone that intended to do us harm, thank god he was actually the literal best host and what would have been an uneventful pull-over to catch some sleep ended up being one of my favourite adventures on this trip! 

That's actually what the "Van Plan" is all about - saying yes to things you might normally say no to because you're scared, or shy, or maybe it just isn't what you think you'd want to do. Because going places you normally wouldn't can lead to some spontaneity and special experiences you would have missed if you played it safe. You just have to trust your gut.

Before we left Abilene, our host told us about a place that I think meets the criteria of a questionable choice, and most definitely is not someplace I would normally choose to go. 

We were telling our host about our never ending quest for pie, and she got this look on her face before she suggested that we go to this restaurant in a town called Hico. 

"It's called the Coffee Cup Cafe...but all spelled with k's..."

Seems safe...

It took us a second to catch on but once we did we did, I was sort of dolly zoomed back to the same place I was when confronted with the dimples and the drawl - these things are actually real here. White supremist meeting places disguised as family restaurants is a real thing here. I say this like there aren't those things in Canada as well, there absolutely are - but I think they are far less overt. 

We could have said that there's no way we would ever set foot in a place like that. We could have said that patronizing a place that has even a hint of a connection to those whack-jobs is foolish and borrowing trouble. 

But we didn't. 

They changed the name to "Family Restaurant" instead of "Kafe" after all. Surely this is all a thing of the past. We'll go and eat a slice of pie and then continue on on merry way and it'll be a funny story and that's all.

I should preface this by saying nothing happened while we were there. We left there with all our limbs and without incident. 

But holy ever-loving shit the vibes in there. 

It was just your standard diner, perhaps a bit heavy on the wood paneling and overly harsh overhead lighting, and those sort of brown vinyl padded chairs with the stainless steel frames I swear were everywhere in the 70s. 

There was just this sort of malevolence that filled the room when we sat down. I mean we very clearly were not the types of people that came in here - TJ was wearing a baggy knit hat with a brim that could most definitely be considered alternative. We looked liberal, modern, containing opinions, non-traditional...OTHER. And I think everyone in there was wary of it. 

The waitress came to take our order with about as much warmth as a Canadian winter, and we just sort of sat there not really sure what else to do. We could feel eyeballs on us, from the waitress, the kitchen staff, the other patrons - I can honestly say I've never in my life been as observed as I was in that moment. 

Once our pie arrived, we weren't really hungry for it. I think we were realizing that in this case we should have known that this wasn't a place we should visit. It's not a cool story, there is nothing to brag about visiting, we should just eat our pie and leave as soon as possible. 

I was having this realization when I noticed that they had a display of collectible salt and pepper shakers on the wall next to our table. One in particular caught my eye - caricature representations of enslaved persons of colour. 

I signalled to TJ to ask for the bill, we paid and got the fuck out of there.

I think we were feeling so weird about this encounter that we opted to just keep driving. We drove all the way to Waco, Texas and parked in another Wal-Mart for the night. As we were falling asleep I swear I heard fireworks...

Just kidding, TJ said that was GUNSHOTS when we were having coffee the next day. 

WELCOME TO FUCKING TEXAS!

I nervously laughed and tried to settle in to our next mission: Finding a sports bar so we could watch the Canada vs. USA gold medal hockey game from the Olympics in Vancouver. 

I donned my “True North Strong and Free” shirt proudly as cruised around until we found what must surely be a sports bar. 

It was, in fact, a sports bar we found...However, clearly Olympic hockey is no where near as important as NASCAR. We were given a TV, but no sound, just the blasting of the metal music station and the voices of NASCAR announcers were all us silly Canadians could hope for. 

Though the game was awesome, it was strange to be in a place that was just didn’t care. I called my mother who told me that she called my sister after the game and her voice was hoarse from cheering. I watched a bunch of videos on facebook that people had filmed of the overtime goal and the subsequent pandemonium that occurred out in Vancouver. The whole city was alive with shouting, honking, and excitement...and we were in Waco freaking Texas. 

I don't normally get homesick when I'm travelling but sometimes I do miss home more than others. Maybe it's just a big case of FOMO - the one time where something is happening on my home turf, and i'm down here surrounded by guns and racism. OOF.