The Charm of Micro on a Friday Evening

I have a knack for turning ordinary events into exceptional ones. That's one of the best ways I can think of to reframe my ability to get into odd situations. For instance, over the past two and half weeks my car has broken down twice. Did I get stranded in a shopping center in Raleigh or even along the side of the road in Cary? Of course not.

The first incident occuring in the tiny township of Pilot, NC, but that one is far less interesting, so I'll direct your attention to last Friday's breakdown.

I was driving home to visit my parents to interview them for a grad school paper when that familiar blinking exclamation point was back on my dashboard in full-force. I thought I had gotten rid of that thing, what with the expensive car repairs from the Pilot episode and all.

So, I pulled off I-95 and made my way to what I would come to find out was the Backdoor Cafe. In a huff I called AAA and attempted to describe my surroundings to the representative. "Um, there's the Backdoor Cafe....it's a town called Micro.....there's a fire department and a BB&T...and a little park across the street." There wasn't much to give her beause there wasn't much there.

I went in to inquire as to the exact physical address and was stunned. If you've ever seen "Sweet Home Alabama" with Reese Witherspoon, you could appreciate the scene. Many older couples and some families sat at various tables, dressed in stereotypical rural fashions. (Hey, I'm not judging, I'm just trying to explain the movie-like scene I walked into.) A hodgepodge of antiques and country-like collectables donned the walls of the loud room. The reason the room was loud? That would have been the girl in the corner singing a Taylor Swift karaoke song.

Feeling a slight wave of culture shock, I was at the front of the cafe where everyone was facing and blurted out to the AAA representative still on the phone, "Wow...there's karaoke" and I hope the music drowned out my comment. Cell phone to my ear, I made my way through the center of the cafe to the back counter and asked the waitress for the physical address. A couple of people later, I found out. In their complete defense, I don't think people generally need a street address to locate things in really small towns like Micro.

I decided to settle in, even though it was clear that I wasn't a local. I began this dialogue with the waitress:

Me: "Do you take debit?"
Kind Waitress: "I don't even have a credit card machine. But there's an ATM right down the road."
Me: "Yea, my car broke down."
Kind waitress: (In a sympathetic tone,) "And you got stuck here?"
Me: "Yea. I don't know about walking to the Cashpoints and having people see me withdrawl money and walking back."
Kind waitress: "I understand."
Me: (thinking about the hour long wait ahead of me) "But maybe I'll risk it." (And going on the notion that you don't know if you don't ask, I proceeded to inquire,) "Do you have wireless internet?"
Kind waitress: "No, we don't."

So I went to the CashPoints machine on the other side of the track. Yes, it was on the other side of a train track and there was only one so I don't really feel like I can say the other side of the tracks. Either way, I got my money and returned. Ordering breakfast for dinner, I began to continue to take in the room.

Someone else was in the karaoke corner singing an old country song I was not at all familiar with and a few kids here and there entertained themselves among the adults. As the karaoke continued, the dancing began. First an older couple, then a single woman; I think she was linedancing.

As I waited for my meal the man in the booth in front of me turned around and showed me a picture of him as a boy. I complimented him and later committed what I now consider a slight social mishap.

This was no ordinary night, it was also a birthday celebration. Peices of the cut cake were being passed out and my newfound aquaintance asked if I would like a peice. Now, the cake did look good but I didn't know these people and it was their celebration so I kindly responded, "I'm alright, but thank you."

I do not think that labeled me as Micro-friendly. I got the feeling that this man considered that an unfriendly outsider response. Don't worry, I later made it up when we laughed about how loud the train was when it passed by and how it rattled the building. Awesome, I was back in the good graces of this friendly older man.

As I dined on an omelet and coffee I received a couple glances and began to think I did have the capability to do that stereotypical up-and-leave your hometown, head to the midwest, and stop in little towns along the way thing.

Around this time my friend was up singing his own karaoke song. He later sat down and asked if I liked Elvis songs. I replied that I did and he told me he did a great renedition of "Now or Never" and maybe he'd sing that later. I really did appreciate his hospitality and friendliness.

After a little more karaoke, the happy birthday chorus, and the fascinated stares of a small child looking at me and me looking and smiling back, the tow truck came. Now, it seemed to me the tow truck was one of the more interesting things to happen in Micro on a Friday night because the men standing around in the parking lot stopped to watch the truck pull up.

Finally I was on my way, with the tow truck driver, back to Greenville. I'm glad I'm outgoing and an extrovert because it was too long of a ride to say nothing. We talked about education, the economy, race, and brushed upon the topic of immigration and the labor force.

So, no, I didn't get home this weekened, but I was able to interview my parents on the phone. And apart from a few more car repairs, I appreciated the experience. I might not be a small town kind of girl, but rural locals definitely have their charm.