After leaving the strange nightmare that was Jim's Campground, I was beginning to realize my attitude needed some help.
So I made a few phone calls to bolster my spirits and help pass the time.
And it worked. I got to call friends back home and get updates about the weather and life, but also the latest gossip around the water cooler. I also was able to call my roommate Stephanie. I had called her already on this trip, but this time her and I had a longer conversation. At around the hour and a half mark I had to remind myself I was cycling along a dangerous two-lane bridge and wasn't back on the front porch of our rented house in Colorado. I was still on a slab of concrete and our conversation turned into lazy banter just like Fort Collins, but the context was much different.
After my pleasant phone calls and a terrifying ride through a bridge under construction, I rolled into lunch. I stopped at a quiet gas station that had plenty of shade. I hopped off Kona and went inside to find calorie-dense foods and some fresh water. I came back outside and sat on the concrete of a gas station happily eating a can of tuna, a slice of gas station pizza, and balls of bread and peanut butter. A lovely older woman walked up, and after seeing my bike, asked if I was following the Southern Tier bicycle route. I said yes and that I was heading to Seattle. I was excited to be talking to someone who was familiar with similar rides. We talked idly about the cycling season so far and she mentioned she already housed a few cyclists. She politely offered me her front lawn and a shower to use. She was happy to exclaim that she lived only a few miles down the road and that she had a "big ol' pot of jambalaya and you look like you could use a big meal hun."
Oh man jambalaya. That's my weak spot.
But as I thought about it, I knew I couldn't accept the offer. I had a rough deadline for this trip that I needed to follow. Having only gone about thirty miles so far today, I knew I had to hit my average or more. I also already had a campsite picked out and gave them a call telling them a cyclist was coming. A tip from some bicycle touring forums mentioned this particular website had a good relationship with cyclists. In the end, as much as I wanted that jambalaya, there wasn't enough reason to make me stop for the day. I thanked the older woman and told her I would have to, unfortunately, turn her offer down. I had to get another thirty or so miles in and the campground I was at had a shower. I made sure to finish my sentence with a "thank you so much though. I appreciate it."
She didn't like that answer. She slowly erased the smile from her face and carefully mounted her high horse. "I hope you noticed us people in the South are more HOSPITABLE than those in the North." She carefully enunciated through tightened lips. I remained seated on the concrete and the older lady was quietly looming over me.
I stared incredulously at her. I began to wonder if this was some strange prank or a weird joke. But as the second of silence dragged on, I realized that she was seriously offended. I only became more confused. I responded to the old lady by mentioning that, where I'm from, these offers are nearly always politely turned down. "We don't want to be a burden." In a normal, Midwestern conversation I've had, the offer would be given a second time. At that point it is polite to take the offer or turn it down. I assumed too much of Gertrude here.
So she rode her high horse, nose turned up, into the gas station. I continued my meal in silence. I quietly thought about how tired I was. Then the older lady came out with a few snack foods. She got into her truck doing her absolute best to not look at me. Meanwhile I watched her back up and turn towards the road. She glanced at me. I waved and mouthed "have a good day." I was met with a stare. I knew what I was doing, getting my last dig, but it made me think about the interaction as a whole and I have this to say:
- This is an example of the double edged sword of "Southern Charm" that I was warned about. You can still be polite and charismatic while spitting venom, they aren't mutually exclusive.
- There is no right or wrong cultural norm, even within the borders of the same country, there is only different. Even within Michigan there are cultural differences. Ask da yoopers way up dere.
- People are more than free to say "no" to offers, we don't know everyone else's agenda for the day. Not to mention, I still appreciated the offer. I just had to keep moving.
- I won't deny that in that interaction I could have performed better and with more grace. I was just taken aback that the situation turned sour so quickly.
Fortunately, the people at my next campground were phenomenally pleasant. I rolled up and mentioned I was the cyclist--wasn't that obvious--that called earlier. They happily lead me to a tree near the office and told me to enjoy the free stay. There was even a power plug and water spigot within ten feet of my tent. And as I sat, comfy as can be in my tent, I wondered how delicious that ladies jambalaya would have tasted.