Pully Bone Natchez, Mississippi has a deep heritage. Named for the Indian nation that was defeated then expelled from the high bluffs along the river, it is said to be home to more millionaires than any other U.S. city.
The Natchez people were mound builders, reflecting a sophisticated spiritual tradition that did not survive repeated conflicts with the French (and Spanish). Many escaped into the Carolinas only to suffer the Trail of Tears. Later, cotton, harvested by slave labor, created the wealth that is still reflected in luxurious homes and plantations in the area.
I saw little of that. A medical problem prompted me to find transportation from the elegant paddle wheel boat docked at the river, to the local urgent care facility.
I walked up the gangplank and into a red cab with white lettering identifying it as part of the Rock N’ Roll taxi company. It was driven by a slim older man who didn’t smile much. We ascended the bluff and drove to urgent care. The driver gave me his card (which I promptly lost) and left.
After an examination, I was told I could pick up a prescription at the Walgreen’s on the other side of a four-lane freeway. A cab was called for. The same one showed up. This time the driver pulled up to the drive-up window where we learned my prescription would be ready in about 15 minutes. So, we rode to the front of the store so I could get some necessities while waiting for the medication. With those in hand, I waited by the front door for the return of the Rock N’ Roll taxi. When it arrived, the driver, aware that I had missed the morning tour of Natchez’s mansions, drove me the long way back to the boat so I could at least get a glimpse of his city.
I have no idea if that’s his real name … or if he was just pulling my leg.
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