Arkansauce!

There’s a water tower that sits on the border between Texas and Arkansas which reads TEX – ARK which is why, I’m assuming, the town is called Texarkana. I’m thankful to be out of the Lone Star State and I love the name of this place….almost as much as I liked rolling through Arkadelphia down the road some sixty miles later. We stopped for gas off Interstate 30 and I realize that we “aren’t in Kansas anymore”, so to say. As I stand and pump the gas, a gentle wind swirls my long curls into my face and makes my eyes tear. There is a thunderstorm on the horizon and its blowing directly at us. Our plan is to camp for two nights on the Ouachita Lake in the Ouachita National Forest, but as we snaked down Highway 7 the torrential downpour became so intense that the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up. I was obliged that Jarvis took the wheel for this stretch, as I white knuckle gripped the oh-shit bar. We probably would have roughed it through a light rain shower; however this was some storm sent by god as a sign that we should check into a nice hotel and celebrate our one month anniversary in style. Besides, we later found out that some twenty odd people drowned at a nearby campsite last month in a flash flood. It’s always good to follow ones instincts when living on the road.

So, there we were, pulling into Hot Springs, Arkansas when we both realized that we had stumbled upon a diamond in the rough. The town holds many niches in American history, including its past as a gangster Mecca in the 1930s when it was know for hosting gambling, prostitution, bootlegging, and notorious gangsters including Al Capone, Frank Costello, Bugs Moran and Lucky Luciano. Instantly, we knew we loved this place. We checked into a room at the Arlington Hotel which sits at the end of downtown and overlooks the main strip. I can picture Al Capone, who frequented the Arlington, sitting and watching the central drag out of the front window.


I tell Jarvis that the hotel is probably haunted, and as we walk down the long, dimly lit hallways, I tease him with my “Shining” finger – “Red Rum, Red Rum”. We had a couple of drinks in the lobby, and spent the rest of the evening in the room – a night in for our anniversary.

In the morning we ordered breakfast in bed, and then went on a walk of the historic downtown area. Lined with a mix of cheesy gift shops, wax museums, dive bars, hot springs bathhouses and restaurants; this spot is packed to the brim with happy little finds. As the heat increased and the humidity started to take a toll, we decided to make our way back to the Arlington for a cold adult beverage. Five beers later, and a chat with the awesome bartender named Josh (easy enough) we decided we better put some food in our bellies before our day buzz escalated to day wasted. We crossed the street to Whole Hog BBQ – an award winning, saucy, finger-lickin-good pulled pork sandwich went down the hatch faster than one can say “please pass a napkin”. We walked up the street to Capones Ohio Club – a sweet dive bar that use to serve as a brothel house and gambling hall to thugs and mobsters back in the day.


The actual bar is a beautiful mahogany piece with inlaid mother of pearl details and maidenheads keeping watch over the Saloon. We made some local friends, and after a couple more cold ones and a shot or two of Jagermeister I’m tanked and the Arkansas accents are starting to sound really twangy and slack jawed. It’s starting to rub off on us, and Jarvis and I are throwing around works like ya’ll and thank yaw sir. Back to the room for a drunk nap.

Thunder shakes the earth, and the old windows, and wakes me out of a deep sleep. It’s about eight o’clock pm and the inebriated siesta served its purpose well. It’s time to get a second wind because we have plans to catch some live music down the street at Maxine’s. I throw on my chucks and my new hat I purchased earlier that day – “Babes, Bikes & Booze” – and we head out into the rain, which has now become a light drizzle, for a night of debauchery.

Maxine’s is a great dive bar located in the heart of downtown, and is the closest that we have found to a San Francisco dive thus far – the bartenders are a bit surly, and the PBRs come cold and cheep. The performance space is a hidden treasure and it is more than obvious that the new owners have invested mucho time and money to create a space that will no doubt draw musicians from all across the country. We are drawn to the joint to see The Psycho Devilles, a BAD ASS psychobilly posse out of Atlanta, Georgia. These boys rocked me to the bone, and their rockabilly side show act was absolutely impressive from start to finish.


A much needed, loud, fast, fiery, delight. We hang to drink some brews with the boys after the show, and it’s nice to be around some real rockers – we instantly get on like a house on fire. Check these devil boys out, I promise you won’t be disappointed.


In the morning I scraped myself out of bed and into the shower. Haven’t been this dehydrated in a while, but the hangover was worth it. We had SO much fun in Hot Springs, and we will defiantly be reuniting ourselves with this city again in the future. For now we tip our hats to the wonderful people we met in Arkansas and carry on our venture. Memphis is a few hours down the road, and I can’t wait to feel the vibe of the King.