Thanksgiving in Mobile - Part One

Last Wednesday night Alistair and I exited Mobile Regional airport, greeted my parents, and entered into the balmy, 70-degree weather. For the three years that we've been together, Alistair has heard me chirp on about Mobile, Alabama, my hometown. We finally got to travel there for Thanksgiving. I've tried to give him as many short-version explanations of the history of Mobile, and what that gave to the culture. I explained to him about Mardi Gras, and made him watch "Order of Myths." I was so happy he'd finally be able to see everything instead of fully trusting photos and my monologues.

We drove through West Mobile (what used the be the outskirts of the city, and now they stretch far beyond that). I looked to the left and right to see the usual businesses in different spots. Sleeping strip malls. The same roads, the same trees, the same dark drive down Grelot.

We dropped our bags at my childhood home, Alistair gave my parents the cutest gifts. We all stayed up till two o'clock in the morning, me on the high-pile rug popping chocolates in my mouth and telling stories. I slept soundly and woke to the sound of my father pouring ground McCafe grounds into the coffee maker.

The next morning we had a light breakfast and my father unveiled the prime rib he was seasoning for a very untraditional Thanksgiving dinner (Trinidadian casserole, creamed spinach and my mother baked a cake). He toured us through the garden, showing us his navel oranges, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, blueberries, apples, figs, plums, and empty bee hives. The bees would arrive in the spring.

I have so many memories in the yard. Growing up we used to swim in an above-ground swimming pool, which is now a bed of lettuce. In May we picked blueberries. When I owned a rabbit he would enjoy exploring the azalea bushes. We raked that yard all day after Katrina made landfall. One or our big pine trees fell.

Later in the day my uncle stopped by to say hello, and when he heard me laugh he smiled.

"I missed that laugh," he said.

When he left, my father walked me out to his speedy 850i convertible and told us to go for a ride.

I took Government Street east. Its one of the lifelines to downtown Mobile. There's always a moment when you hit midtown Mobile, when the oak trees begin to hang over the street, that you realize that you're in a beautiful place. I pointed out the places of note and then, Alistair exhaled when we got to the part where the big oak trees stretch as wide as the street. He pulled out his cell phone and started taking pictures.

"We're just getting started!" I laughed. There are big houses on both sides. Alistair was completely impressed.

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The next day I took Alistair to the USS Alabama, an historical old battleship docked in Mobile Bay. When I approached the ship from afar, Alistair's jaw dropped for the second time that trip. To the south is an exceptional view of Mobile Bay. On that day it was a vision of Black Friday serenity. To the north, the Tenasaw River Delta, a series of little rivers with trees and greenery in the marsh. We toured the ship and the submarine adjacent to it.

Then we parked the car downtown and walked the main drag, Dauphin Street. Alistair's friends from Birmingham were driving down to Mobile for dinner with us so we had some time to kill.

Dauphin Street used to make me feel really good. After living in New York for twelve years it feels dwarfed but still special. I took him to a gift shop, then to an old-style candy shop for chocolates. We stopped in the Haunted Bookshop, took a peek in the lobby of the Battlehouse Hotel.

On Royal Street we passed Serda's coffee shop.

"I had a friend who worked there," I said casually.

"Maybe he still does?" Alistair said.

"No, I don't think..." I peeked in the window of the coffee shop and there he was, my high school friend. We stopped in and chatted with him, sat by the window. Then around seven o'clock Alistairs' friends met us at the Battlehouse. They had drinks at The Haberdasher, a very elegant cocktail bar (I refrained since I was the driver for the evening). Then we walked to Southern National for dinner, another new spot. In the back of the dining room was a table where the chef, Duane Nutter, plated dishes in front of the diners, a cool touch.

I had to explain to everyone that those restaurants weren't around when I lived in Mobile. The city was catching up to trends, and it was a nice thing to see. We had a hilarious dinner. Our table raised the restaurant noise level by a few decibels. We returned home late. The next day we'd go the museum, visit the casino and dine on the bay.