I’d like to start this by inviting anyone who has experienced another side of Jackson, Mississippi to leave a comment or send me a message with your competing experiences. In fairness, here is one account I found that contrasts my experience. With that out of the way, here we go.
Jackson, Mississippi is the worst city I have ever seen in any remotely developed nation; the chaotic abandon the like of which is usually reserved for places like Sicily during a strike. The entire city is infested with the worst quality roads I have ever seen. Any building that once had windows has long since been abandoned, boarded them over, or has gigantic police surveillance mobile stations in the parking lot. I abandoned intersections at what could be graciously called “not my turn” as individuals lying on the sidewalk or sitting in parking lots thought a stop light meant they should walk into the street to talk to me on my motorcycle; thankfully the vast majority of the city was simply devoid of any human life. I felt like a disaster or state of emergency had been declared and the city abandoned… and I simply didn’t get the memo.
I attempted to visit museums, a library, a restaurant Anthony Bourdain highlighted, and found all of them permanently closed, boarded up, or sealed up with crime tape. I nearly crashed three times in 2 hours while traveling below the speed limit, all from the sheer pandemonium of what Jackson would have you believe were roads at one point.
The quinary stop on my tour de cataclysm was Brent’s Drugs. Finding it open, and with all windows intact, I parked and entered warily. The staff was pleasant, the food was good, and the cold brew coffee was above average. I optimistically asked the attendant behind the counter where one would go out in the city for a drink or some music, remarking that the city looked largely abandoned.
“Yes, it is.” she said, pausing to look at the counter between us for guidance. ” I haven’t had a drink in a year. And I don’t go out anymore.”
I nodded, silent; the specter of discomfort behind her eyes hoping that I did not inquire further.
The house I rented is in Belhaven. It is only moderately haunted, and very well appointed. It has a mirror of universal height, which means it is only of use for seeing anything below my nipples.
The Belhaven district is supposed to be the cat’s meow of Jackson, sporting the nicest houses and lovely neighborhoods. I have ridden on motocross tracks with less “character” than the roads in this, the nicest part of Jackson. While some of the homes here are quite attractive, one can’t take much time to appreciate them as the sidewalks and roads are specifically tailored to end the lives and journeys of the unwary.
You don’t have to take my word for it, but don’t come experience it for yourself. Whoever you are, with very few exceptions, I wish better things for you than MS, Jackson.
Since I was there, it has come to light that the water is unsafe for humans, and a jury ruled that Mississippi is under no obligation to either provide clean water to the citizens nor even inform them that the water is unfit for human consumption.
Half the city was abandoned; lifeless. I mentioned this earlier, but it looked like a zombie movie set. Even on this street with historic markers, there was not a human to be seen for blocks in any direction. Many of the windows were boarded over.
There was a well reviewed restaurant called Walker’s Drive-In that I decided to hit for dinner. It was an excellent decision. If you are in town on a Saturday, go to Walker’s and take a seat at the counter. You may be fortunate enough to be seated next to the longest reigning teacher in town. I am ashamed to say I have forgotten her name, but she taught high school for four decades before teaching at HBCUs. Literally everyone in the restaurant had been a student of hers, and they all treated her with deference. She is there every Saturday, sitting at the counter.
A lovely couple from Walker’s took me around the town to some other places, a concert, and introduced me to all the people who were absent from the first half of my experience in the city. It was so pleasant, as to be even more jarring compared to the apocalyptic emptiness of the city I had first experienced.
The power of my mustache got me safely through the Ms. Jackson experience. Upon returning to the house I was staying at, the owner met me for a glass of wine and some discussion about what life was like there. She had the most interesting wine key, and I commented on it. The following morning, as I left, I noticed she had placed a similar key on the entryway table with a note, saying it was from her ex-husband’s collection and had some rust, but it was mine to take. I have since cleaned it of rust and it is a proud fixture in my kitchen. Thank you, Katherine.
Wrap up:
- Romania has better streets and cleaner water than Jackson, MI.
- The people are quite pleasant, when they aren’t climbing off dumpster mattresses to chase you through the street.
- There are some lovely vintage vibe businesses still open in town, though the throw back feeling may have something to do with the whole city feeling as if it is still 70 years in the past.
- Seriously, don’t drink the water.