So I’m in the motel parking lot, with the sparkling Gulf of Mexico shimmering behind me, rummaging through my car for that banana I brought with me but forgot to eat, when I hear a voice from behind me: “Big man! Come here for a second. Got something to show you.”

I walk over to the car, a 1991 Lincoln Continental, and the man behind the wheel, looking around surreptitiously, pulls out a diamong ring. I take it from him and stare at it. Then he takes out another, and another. Each ring is gaudier than the last and has more and bigger diamonds until the last one, roughly the size of the Hope Diamond. They shimmer brighter than the Gulf.

“I’ll make you a deal man.”

“Are they real?”

“Yeah, man, they’re real.

I look at the five dimamond rings in the palm of my hand. “How much?”

“200 dollars, for all of them.”

I haven’t been here an hour and a guy is offering me five diamond rings for $200.

Welcome to Biloxi, Mississippi. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the trip brings.

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