The wafting stench of cigarettes and sounds of jazz greeted me as I stepped off the plane and into the airport terminal in Kenner, Louisiana, just outside of New Orleans.
It was two days before Christmas, and my mom, brother and I were in town to visit my uncle and his family. I was excited to see them, especially since the opportunity only comes a few times a year.
Normally, they make an annual trek to Florida. This year, however, we decided to take a trip to visit them. This change of plans didn’t exactly have me jumping out of my seat with anticipation. They don’t live in New Orleans; that just happens to be where the closest major airport is. They live in Mississippi.
Like most people, I didn’t have Mississippi high on my bucket list of states to visit. It was far down the cellar, somewhere in line near the dull, droning cornfields of Kansas and Iowa.
When my uncle first told me he was accepting a job in Mississippi a few years ago, I distinctly remember feeling surprised that anyone would willingly relocate there. Mississippi is a place where people move from, not to. There are no major cities. No real attractions. According to Business Insider, it’s the poorest state in the union based on median household income, and the third fattest state, behind Arkansas and West Virginia. It’s also a hassle to get there. If you live far enough away that you need to fly, you have to find an airport in another state if you want a reasonably priced ticket.
And the people who live there…I didn’t exactly view them kindly, either. Those concurrently amusing yet mildly repulsive “People of Wal-Mart” chain emails came to mind.
You know the kind of person I’m talking about.
These are the people that, from 1863 to 1945, refused to observe Independence Day on July 4 in the city of Vicksburg because it coincided with the date Union forces captured the town. It took over three-quarters of a century to emotionally recover from the Confederacy’s defeat. What kind of backward place was I headed to?
I mulled this over as we barreled down Interstate 10 and made the hour-and-a-half trip to Gulfport, a small city on the coast. And for the next five days, I decided to view the place where I was staying with an open mind. I was pleasantly surprised. Shocked, actually.
We visited numerous quaint coastal towns, toured historic sites, walked piers and marinas and ate fresh seafood from the Gulf of Mexico. If I didn’t know any better, I never would’ve guessed I was in Mississippi. My actual experience had little in common with the state that I had always pictured.
Now I’m not saying that Mississippi doesn’t have regressive and archaic areas. It does. Quite a few of them, actually, as you head north and away from the Gulf Coast. There are people who never stray from their rural hometowns, still believe in secession and are still prejudiced. But it’s not everyone.
Every place has its ups and downs, good and bad.
Often, we judge places based on predetermined opinions and perceptions. I’m guilty of it. And we do the same thing with people. So go out, and explore the world. Make judgments for yourself instead of relying on others to do it for you. Give people a chance. You just might be surprised at what you find.
Brian Lee is a UF English senior. His columns appear on Thursdays.