You Can Tunica a Piano, but you cant Tunica a Fish

Ah, Travel. Temporary duty, or TDY as we government employees call it.

For me, it’s a chance to put another pushpin onto the world map of places I have seen and hope to see.

This time, a week is to be spent in Tunica, Mississippi, a place I have never heard of. I mean, I had heard of Mississippi, and been there countless times, just not Tunica--I guess the same goes for a Mississippian who has been to Georgia but never been to Hahira or perhaps Cairo.


In the Mississippi River delta region of Mississippi (I hope to hell that isn't redundant), just south of Memphis, lies Tunica- Tunica sounds like something you wear on your head when it gets cold. "Little George, its cold outside make sure you got your tunica on and keep that damn thing fastened!"

At one time the poorest county of Mississippi, Tunica is now a destination for folks who like to gamble. As one leaves the Memphis Airport and heads south on Route 61, things become really rural really fast. Then, all of a sudden, where one would expect to find a roadside vegetable stand with boiled peanuts, or perhaps at the very most a Stuckeys selling Pecan logs, these casinos arise smack dab out of the middle of the corn, cotton, and soybean fields. It doesn’t look natural. That’s because it ain't.

It is, quite simply, a good drive spoiled.

These casinos are surrounded by water irrigated in via the Mississippi river which is a good two miles west as the crow flies--I think theres some law about having them be in, near or on the water---

One thing I did enjoy was that the place where we stayed (Harrahs) there is a Paula Deen restaurant. Some folks are addicted to booze or drugs, some folks to gambling. My addiction to Fried Chicken is legendary and I had already mentioned to my traveling and TDY buddy Charlie "Dude" Discher that I needed Fried Chicken soon lest I go into the DTs and end up being taken away to a nuthouse someplace where I would end up begging nurse Ratchett for cigarettes.

We got checked into our rooms and with quick dispatch made it to Paula Deens buffett--I know what you're thinking--to have to go pay and eat for the food we grew up eating is indeed a sin, but one must get a "fix" whenever one can--We had not ventured out far enough to find the Krystal and Waffle House.

So, we paid the 10.99 and stood in line with the rest of the tourists to eat Paula Deens buffet.

The restaurant is divvied up into 5 sections-Smoked Meats, Seafood, Comfort Food, one I just forgot and then the desserts . Charlie Dude, who is a master in the art of dining out, had planned a strategy to where he would hit all the different sections. Myself, on the other hand, made a beeline for the comfort food section and got in line with an enormous crowd of fat ladies to get my plateful of fried chicken. I still contend that when I am having a craving I would walk right past fillet mignon and possibly a naked woman to get ahold of Fried Chicken.

My first pass at the fried chicken netted me only a back and a half of breast. They were still cooking another batch of chicken so I finished the first run with some collards and rice and gravy and butterbeans. Charlie Dude came back with what appeared to be some samples from the salad bar. Lightweight, I thought to myself.

Fast Forward 15 minutes.


I have made my two passes, had about 4 pieces of chicken, some black eyed peas and some corn. I saw the final coffin nail disguised as a piece of caramel cake at the dessert station and as I sat at the table about to cuss the day I was born, I see Charlie Dude---still eating-he had hit every section-- and now was headed towards the dessert. I just sat there in awe-there was no way I could keep up, for I would have exploded or really done some kind of irreplaceable damage to my insides. I did consider going outside and purging myself in the moat that surrounded this behemoth of a casino.

For the record, the Fried Chicken tasted just like my Moms.

Afterwards, we stumbled back out into the casino, where wouldn’t you know it they had Paula Deen penny slot machines. I lost a dollar in about one minute. Charlie Dude watched me while working his toothpick, his eyes still aglaze from his 5 station blitzkrieg.

Undaunted, I figured that I would raise the stakes, so I reached for a sawbuck and promptly lost it in the quarter slots. Evidently the big meal I had was having an adverse effect on my ju ju--my gambling mojo, if you will. I had won 27 dollars on the slot machines back in 1981 in Vegas, so I knew a little about how this thing works out.

Three minutes later, I have been thoroughly "entertained" by the 25 cent slots.

The roulette table, I figured, would be a way to recoup some of my dollars. I reached in my wallet for an Andrew Jackson. I cashed in for some chips. The minimum bet was 5 dollars. I got a quick brush up on the game by the lady working the machine. I had a 50/50 chance betting on red or black, odd or even. Simple Math. I put 5 bucks down on Black. I won. I put ten dollars on Black and Odd. I lost. I reversed the next bet by going Red and even. I won. Then ditto, I lost. I maintained these shenanigans for about 5 minutes then walked away. Andrew Jackson stayed there too.

I was done with Paula Deen and with gambling in Tunica, and it was still the first day.

Next on my list of things to do was people watch. I had made the statement to Charlie Dude on the way to the restaurant that "If we don’t see old folks in wheelchairs sucking on oxygen tanks and smoking all at the same time I will kiss your ass on the square in Tunica (if they have one) and give you three days to draw a crowd!"

Before I got to the Fried Chicken we had seen all that to include a one legged woman.

It is, as COL Steve Joyce puts it, "Simply amazing". Simply amazing, as I found out last week, is the professional careerists speak of saying how something is really "EFFED UP"---Normally when I see something that is, well, EFFED up, I say it just that way--"Hey, this thing is as 'Effed up as a soup sammich! WTF?" I think we all know what "EFFED" refers to--certainly anyone that has been in my presence for more than two minutes has a good idea...

It is simply amazing to watch the deer in the headlights stares as these folks sink dollar after almighty dollar into the slot machines, the black jack and poker tables, and the roulette wheel. I normally go thru my money at a high rate of speed, when times call for social activity-- A perfect example would be two nights later when we went to Memphis and Beale Street, where the Blues, Big Ass beers, and Barbecue are all well worth whatever price they are asking for. But when I lose one dollar in the slot machines I feel like I would be better off taking a matchstick to my money and burning it, or maybe even wiping my ass with it.


Oh, yeah--Beale Street. What a wonderful place. Charlie Dude, Colonel Joyce and myself all went for an early supper barbecue, blues and beer. Just so happens that Wednesday evenings on Beale is motorcycle night, where they let anyone on a two wheeler come inside the barriers and park on Beale Street proper. Of course, some of the Motorcycle folks are quite the eyeful, while others are simply amazing. Is all good while youre wiping the barbecue sauce off your mouth. Since Charlie Dude was the driver of our rental car he anointed himself designated driver-we assured him that as a return favor we would purchase him his first round and all the breath mints he wanted or needed prior to the drive back to Tunica.

So there you have it. You can tunica piano but you cant tunica a fish. If you should find yourself in this part of the world you will find it like I did- Simply Amazing.