Day 2

But never, never on a Monday

We left Little Rock under clear skies and drove to Memphis. Ah Memphis, home of the one attraction that I am doomed to never actually visit, Mud Island. Mud Island contains a 5 block long exact scale model of the Mississippi River. Someday, I swear, I will walk those 5 blocks. But alas, Mud Island is not open on Mondays and once again, that is the day of the week that Memphis and I cross paths. 

In a confluence of bad karma, the one attraction that the husband wanted to visit in Memphis on this trip is also closed on Monday. All was not lost however; we went on a tour of the Gibson Guitar factory (but only because of the generosity of the tour guide who relented and squeezed us into his already sold out tour.) We both enjoy seeing how things are made, and this 45 minute tour was fascinating. Yes there are plenty of machines and computer controls but when they say that each guitar is hand-crafted, they really mean it. 

We asked a local for the name of her favorite bbq place and found ourselves at Corky’s for a late lunch in lieu of hitting up either of the Memphis area Saucers for (at least) one beer. I know, it was quite a sacrifice in order for us to eat the city’s (arguably) best dry rub ribs and (also arguably) best bbq pork sandwich, but the Memphis Saucers are east of the Mississippi and so not essential to achieving the goals of this trip.

We couldn’t tarry in Memphis too long, for we needed to make it to Jackson, TN to see the Generals play ball. 

As always, we reviewed the particulars of the stadium in our slightly outdated minor league reference manual while enroute to the park. “Pringles Stadium” is a bit unique in that the seating is built up, at a steep angle, instead of extending into the outfield. Essentially all the seats are between the bases. I was really looking forward to a can of pringles, but, alas, the company did not renew the naming rights so instead I opted for a twist soft serve. This was perhaps not the best choice as the temperature dropped to 50. 

A solo BLAST of a HR in the 1st for the visiting Smokies was the only score until the Generals plated 4 in the 7th and another 3 in the 8th, helped greatly by 4 errors. The husband caught a frisbee and nabbed a bouncing ball. And he resumed another tradition:

  
BTW, that’s Sarge, the General. I’ve given up trying to make sense of minor league mascots. 

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