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David Mitchell
Back to an episode in one of my earlier chapters. Traveling from home to begin Basic training at scenic Fort Polk ("fote poke") Louisiana. Like the rest of you, I grew up in an all-white neighborhood and went to all-white schools - until I made one Black friend at college.
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A few days into January, (1968) the same four of us - including (new buddy) Mike Lee, all met down at Fort Hayes and were driven out to Port Columbus Airport. We were handed our airline tickets to Shreveport Louisiana, connecting through Atlanta, as well as an envelope containing our military “orders”. We were allowed only a small gym bag with toilet kit and change of underwear. We boarded a Delta flight for Atlanta, to connect on to Shreveport. From Shreveport we would be bussed to Fort Polk, Louisiana where we would begin to enjoy the “delights” of basic training.
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My Intro To the “South”.
We arrived at Shreveport Airport and boarded the shuttle to the bus station, where we would catch another bus to Leesville, Louisiana and the nearby Fort Polk compound. Here, in the large bus station lobby I experienced a sort of “Welcome to the Real South” shock.
As we sat in the large lobby, with large, ornate wooden benches, I noticed an odd, painted set of lines (two black lines on either side of a white line - about 6 inches total width) that ran all the way across the middle of the lobby floor and part way up the two opposite walls. I gave it little thought.
But I did become curious as to why there was an open, clean refreshment counter on one side of the room, and a fly-infested rolling cart with snacks on the opposite side of that same lobby. There simply weren’t that many people there. The lobby was not that large. I was puzzled.
After a while I needed to go to the men’s room and got up and headed toward the door under a sign that read “TOILETS”. As I began to walk toward it, an older Black man seated in the next row of benches gently reached out his arm to restrain me. “No, son - over there.” As he pointed to the neatly printed signs on the opposite wall that read “MENS” and “LADIES”. After a moment it dawned on me. I had crossed the line - literally - the striped line. There was a side of the lobby for Whites, and a side for Blacks - seating, food, and rest rooms. The realization hit me like a brick. I was absolutely stunned with embarrassment!
Welcome to the South, white boy.
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