The evolution of my feelings about Fayetteville was telling. The general sentiment that existed somewhere within every FO (field organizer) was summed up beautifully on the hungover morning after a training in Raleigh by Shaun, our resident Lewis Black. In answer to the question "Why is it called Fayette-nam," Shaun replied, without missing a beat, "because it sucks."
I don't know if that's as hilarious to an idle blog-reader (thanks by the way!) as it was to us unwitting inhabitants of Fayette-nam. To us, that one comment, which would be repeated again and again over the next two months, summed up the more dominant side of Shaun (who, I feel the need to say, is a really nice guy), but also made at least as much sense as the real reason it's called Fayette-nam- that being that it contains (I think) the largest military base in the country in Fort Bragg (and because 'nam = Vietnam and Vietnam = war associations in America).
Ah Fayetteville. Seemingly endless strip of fast food joints and shopping centers with 80% of the life bleached and processed away. The place where concrete goes when it has nothing else to do. Where you are never more than five minutes from a Wafflehouse or a Bojangles. Why is it called Fayette-nam? Because it sucks.
And yet, after a month or so of living in Richmond county, I started to really look forward to my once-or-twice a week trips into Fayetteville. A lot of that had to do with seeing the other FOs. They were mostly college-educated 20-somethings like me, and, of course, we could commisserate over the struggles of the FO. I also liked having the drive (90 minutes each way) to air out my thoughts. It wasn't a very scenic drive, but it was an easy one, so it was often therapeutic. Even Fayetteville itself started to hold some appeal. After all, it had the occasional coffee shop (I think the lack of coffee shops in Richmond county will get its own post) and it had food options. Food options! You know what my main food options in Richmond were (keep in mind, I'm veg)? Subway and lunch #14 at the Mexican place. La Cabana repeatedly put me into a food coma as I was approaching call time, and call time, like a 4-5 hour drive, was sometimes hellish if I had low energy, but could be fun if I was feeling up. That meant I usually went for Subway. By October, I would walk in, and whoever was working would immediately start preparing a foot-long veggie sub on wheat. Every sandwich-maker there voted for Obama.
Anyway, Fayetteville. I would never live there, I don't have any desire to go back there, but some part of me appreciates it. Not unlike how you would never hang out at a gas station, but when you're on a long journey, a place where you can refuel, physically, and in this case mentally, can feel like an oasis.
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2 comments:
I can vouch for the furry of those sign seekers. I have witnessed sign wars. Back in Providence and green behind the ears, I kept nudging a friend of mine who was running for office about his yard signs. I had been canvassing homes for him and a lot of folks asked where the signs were. He rolled his eyes and said they were on the way, but seemed to think the signs were more trouble than they were worth. When the signs finally arrived I saw why. Hundreds of signs went up over the weekend, in the next few days, hundreds of signs were stolen by the opposition. It was like throwing money into a fire.
That note was meant for the chum section.
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