Welcome to Mississippi, part 1

Five minutes into Mississippi, a police officer pulled up behind us. He sat there, investigating us. That 2-3 minutes where they sit on your tail and let you know you're being investigated.

Lights. Pull over to the shoulder.

Sit on the shoulder for a while.

Finally he ambles over and asks for Rebekah's license and insurance. Calls in Rebekah's license number on his computer. Stares at our meaningless insurance certificate. Asks us if we know why he pulled us over.

My theory? cause he wanted to make sure we knew we were in Mississippi. That he had more power than we did in this situation. "No sir, why?" I asked.

No license plates.

On account of we're in a suspicious looking brand new minivan and we haven't gotten our plates yet. We point to the temporary registration sticker in the front window.

We learn that in Mississippi, out-of-state temporary registration stickers are not held in high regard. The police officer talks about "sovereignty". I point out that in California getting plates can take a few weeks (later, we look at the DMV site and learn that they recommend giving them a phone call if you don't receive plates within 8 weeks).

"So what's the next step?" I ask. I'm thinking about the cousin vinnie movie, the mississippi mud, going to court, Marisa Tomei's biological clock. Yes, I feel like I'm in a foreign country.

When asked, we explain to the police officer that we're on our way to the smithsonian, to show the kids. He talkes about getting stuck looking at dinosaurs with his kids. Almost like we're having a connection? Hard to say.

It turns out he has discretion. He's going to let us go. Which was nice, but it was unnerving to know that driving a new car that doesn't have license plates yet is against the law in Mississippi. What if officer was having a bad day? What if our skin wasn't white? What if our three kids in the back weren't so cute? I'm not a big fan of discretion.

I'm trying to be polite. We're on our way to the capital, Jackson. So I ask him, "So what do you recommend doing with kids in Jackson?"

"Stay in your hotel room" he says. Completely serious. He doesn't like Jackson. We later learn that this is a common sentiment in certain parts of Mississippi. Race and class probably play a role (Jackson is mostly poor and black).

So lets sum up our welcome to Mississipi: we got pulled over for driving a new car, and were advised to stay in our hotel room when we got to the capital. Yes, we were completely creeped out. Yes, we will have mixed feelings about recommending Mississippi to anybody who asks. On the off chance we're talking about people who want to know whether to visit Mississippi.