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Rest stops on highways are liminal spaces where the veil is thin and nobody can tell me differently
Explain
The explanation is that liminal spaces are in between places that bridge Here with There, so in fairy tales we often have the Fairy Ring, the Forest Clearing, the Sudden Misty Foggy Forest, the Bridge, the River, graveyards, in some cases
We also have a ton of american urban mythology around famous roadways and sites off the sides of roads
Archetypes like these occur to mark the places in the world where the veil goes thin and humans can have extra-worldly experiences, out of the ordinary way of living
So why wouldn’t transient spaces like rest stops where everyone is just passing through from one place to the next, never stopping for too long, not be a liminal space where spirits frequent, too
Especially since nobody would know if they were real or not
Ok but this speaks to me
I always feel like something isn’t quite right at rest stops
I once slept though three gas stations on a road trip, and the second the car started to slow to turn into a rest stop, I was basically wide awake.
My mom and I were on I-90 in a blizzard once and pulled off at the first exit we could find. Turns out that if we’d gone even a mile further, we would have happened on a 49-and-counting car pileup, and that 90 was closed for MILES. How we found an unblocked ramp was a matter of great debate, but where this gets weirder still is that at the bottom of the ramp was a closed truck stop and an open church full of teenagers–they went for youth group, the blizzard started, and they were stuck until the snow stopped. They fed us leftovers from their potluck dinner, prayed with us for safe travel, and when the snow let up they saw us on our way.
Three days later–Sunday–we were traveling back and decided to stop at that church to thank them. We found it thanks to the truck stop, but this time it was the truck stop that was open and the church that was closed. Neither of us remembered it looking so decrepit on the trip down, and granted we saw it first at night in a snowstorm, but you’d think we’d have noticed the boarded-up windows. So we asked in at the truck stop.
The church had been abandoned for ten years. And yet I still had one of their youth group programs under my sun visor, very clearly labeled for the previous week.
To this day I’m sure we crossed dimensions somewhere on I-90, and that’s how we stayed safe. You could tell me it’s because the truck stop was a liminal space and I’d 100% believe you.
I don’t mind when this post goes around again because sometimes I get stories like this
On my way up to Massachusetts 2 years ago there was something like this. For those of you who have never driven up North you wouldn’t be aware but once you hit Connecticut everything is the same. Same road, same signs, same gas stations and rest stops, same trees, same vehicles. ITS ALL THE SAME FOR LITERALLY THE WHOLE STATE.
Now when my friend, Alicia, and I left our home-state NJ it was already nearly nightfall so when we got into Connecticut it was midnight. Now Connecticut is a HUGE fucking state and takes a really long time to drive through so that made it worse but it was just terrible as you’re literally driving straight for like over 70+ miles I think it was. Now let me tell you it wasn’t for the entire state but for an entire like 20-40 mile stretch there’s a only one kind of gas station available. It was always the same, I think it was a Shell or some off-brand station, but it was ALWAYS the same. Every time we saw one, the gas station was on the right and on the left there was a the same food place and a rest area. It was the fucking same every time, right down to the gas prices. For what felt like hours it seemed as if we were driving the same 2 mile stretch of road over, and over, and over. It was actually really terrifying.
Now if this wasn’t spooky enough we had an experience that really fucked me up. Towards the beginning of this nonsense we stopped for fuel and food okay and when we did we met some pretty nice people in the convenience shop and the cashier was pretty memorable. Fast-forward to the end of this nonsense and we stop again for a bathroom break at another of the rest stops that looks exactly the same. After entering we find the SAME cashier working at the convenience store who, upon seeing us, asks us why we had come back. Immediately we left the store, only to find the same nice people that we saw the first time, WHO ALSO ASKED US WHY WE HAD COME BACK. THEY DIDN’T SAY “Oh look its you again!” as if we stopped at the same place by coincidence, THEY SAID “Oh why’re you back here?” LIKE THAT’S SO TERRIFYING.
Let me tell you this was the CRAZIEST, SPOOKIEST thing that’s happened while driving on a road trip and we immediately left the rest stop and didn’t stop driving until we were out of the state. Along with that experience and others me and Alicia agreed to never go to Connecticut again.
Rest areas always give me a very specific creepy vibe. Doesn’t matter if they’re the county/state operated rest area or the big stupid truck stop plazas who are awful teases because there is usually Cinnabon that I can’t have. Fuckers.
Anyway. @amireal2u and I drove up here to kidnap the mate to move in with me. I drove from Kentucky to Queens in 16 hours. On a map it looks like it should be a shorter trip, but there are fucking mountains in the way. Also New Jersey traffic sucks.
But by that point? 16 hours on the road. Been awake since probably 6am. I can’t sleep. She can’t either. We get in the car and we drive to Maine because why the fuck not.
On the way to Bangor, we stop at a rest area. It’s honestly a beautiful place, full of old boulders that glaciers left behind and there were picnic tables all through that area and it was all blanketed by trees. You could see the place from the road, but the trees stole the sunlight so it was always shaded. I loved it immediately even though it was a REST AREA.
Fast forward the next trip to Maine.
I can’t find this rest area. Anywhere. It was only about two months later. The mate posited that they closed down this rest area, and…okay, maybe. But I never saw the building. I never saw where a building was taken down.
I never saw that rocky grove. Ever. Anywhere.
Maine is thin, rest stations are apparently magical, and living here means accepting that sometimes things fucking vanish.
When my family moved from Chicago to Denver, every other summer for the first ten years we lived here, we’d make the trip back to Chicago along the I-76/I-80 corridor.
I think I was about 12, and, on my family’s way back, we stopped at a rest stop somewhere in eastern Nebraska. We were there for about an hour, doing a picnic and relaxing, the parents letting us kids run out some of our pent up energy from the hours and hours riding. I was playing with this kid there, climbing trees, wandering around, just two kids being kids… he was almost my mirror image, same glasses, everything… tons in common… it was odd, but, you’re a kid, and, you don’t care, it’s someone not family to enjoy some time with.
Anyhow… fast forward 10 years, and, I’m making a motorcycle journey across country… I’m tired, exhausted, I barely have gas money to get to my destination, so a hotel is completely out of the question… I pull into a rest stop about 20 minutes west of the Iowa/Nebraska border and, without even taking off my helmet I walk over to a picnic bench, put my head on the table, and was out.
Sometime later, still completely dark, but, everything was misty and foggy as it was a really wet spring that year, and, I’m being shaken awake by a kid. I recognize the kid, but… I’m totally in a fog.
“Hey, hey, it’s about to rain, maybe you should sleep under some cover…”
Seriously, it’s oh gods in the morning, dark as hell with just cones of light from the few lights about the lot and the restroom structure struggling to push back any of the darkness, and I look at this kid, who for some reason triggers a memory, his clothes are a decade out of place, as is his glasses and the newsie cap he’s wearing. (Seriously, he was wearing a Members Only jacket in 1996)
“Come on,” he says, “You’re going to get soaked if you stay out here.” and so I let him help me up, and he walks me to the bathroom and I go to the very back, put my back against the wall, slide to the floor, and start to doze. The kid helps me take my helmet off, and i think to myself “holy fuck this would look weird if someone comes in”
Then he says something odd to me. “You’ve gotten old…” and he’s squatted on the floor just kind of looking me in the face, and I reply, “I’m only 22…” And he gets up from his crouch, and idly says “Well, nothing stays the same does it?” and turns and starts walking to the door…
About that time, thunder crashes, and rain starts coming down in sheets intermixed with a bit of hail making a large racket on the building… the lights flicker and I don’t see the boy, and, I just figure he went outside.
I fall asleep hard… to be awaken by a big old grizzled trucker kicking my boot to wake me up, light is streaming into the window. He helps me up as I ask the time, a little after 7am… “Hell of a storm last night huh? Did you get caught in it?” “No,” I reply, “but I bet my gear is all soaked.”
I walk outside, there’s still some fog and mist holding low to the ground, and, my motorcycle is covered in a tarp… something I didn’t have with me. Nothing around, a few trucks out in the truck area. The trucker who woke me comes out of the restroom, “Hey, did you see who tarped my bike? I’d like to thank them and give it back.” and he says, “Nope, but, lucky for you huh?” and he walks off towards one of the idling trucks.
So… the question I must ask, is, was that little boy there the first time? Or, did I leave something of myself behind in that spot? Or, was I just so zonked I was hallucinating… but… definitely, rest stops are one of those liminal places. (And where the fuck did the tarp come from, I really appreciated it…)
Earlier this year my family was on a road trip and while driving through Nebraska we stopped at one of those really pretty, nice, air-conditioned rest stops. My little brother and I were bickering and after using the bathroom we went to this info desk to ask the guy what direction to go. He told the best way and gave the little ones coloring books before telling me this really nice thing that actually put me in a good mood. On the way back home we stopped at the same rest stop and I walked in hoping to see the guy again but instead of an information desk there was a bunch of maps and when I tried talking to my mom about it all she would say is that she didn’t remember anyone working there.
Since BL and fujoshi discourse is the hot topic du jour, let’s talk a bit about gay stereotypes in Japanese manga and anime.
I’m seeing a worrying number of people not only saying that all BL and fujoshi promote homophobic stereotypes, but that BL is the primary or sole instigator of homophobia in Japanese society (excuse me, I choked on drink there).
For those who don’t know, Boy’s Love (BL) is a niche category of shoujo/josei manga that focuses on M/M relationships (commonly known in the west as “yaoi”, though that is a misnomer). It’s still frowned upon, both for being gay content and for being mainly romance aimed at women. The word “fujoshi” — used today to mean “female fan of BL” — even has seriously misogynistic origins.
So far, BL is published on specific magazines, and most anime adaptations are OVAs that aren’t aired on TV. Although it has a significant following, it’s definitely not popular enough to change the opinions on gay men of the entire anime fanbase, much less of Japanese society as a whole.
Homophobia in Japan has a long history, but one of the most impactful chapters was the Meiji Restoration (1867-68), when Japan’s isolationist foreign policy was abolished and rapid westernization began. Negative Christian views on homosexuality disseminated throughout the country and public opinion of practices such as nanshoku/wakashudou declined until they were practically criminalized and banned.
For reference, both BL and yuri had their origins more than a century later,
in the 1970’s-80’s.
I find that a lot of criticism of stereotyping in BL is, unsurprising, very US-centric. The thin, androgynous, pretty and emotionally sensitive characters of BL may coincidentally fit western gay stereotypes, but this type of character just represents an East Asian beauty standard for men. Guys who fit these bishounen and ikemen types are considered desirable by Japanese women and are generally assumed to be straight.
A handful of pretty boys from Touken Ranbu.
In the US, your idea of a stereotypical gay dude may be a metrosexual twink with a lisp and a limp wrist, but different countries have different stereotypes. In Japan, the appearance of イカホモ/イカニモ (“ikahomo” or “ikanimo”, a stereotypical gay man) is a heavy-set masculine guy with short haircut, strong face, and facial hair.
Sort of like the guys you see in geikomi, right?
Pin-ups by Jiraiya, long-time artist for G-men magazine.
But we’re talking about entertainment media, more specifically about animanga. We’ll get there soon.
Gay men in Japan are stereotyped by the general population as being camp, and using feminine clothes, language and pronouns. Those who present femininely are often referred to as オネエ (“onee”) because they use オネエ言葉 (“onee kotoba”, feminine speech), and may or may not identify as male. Many entertainers who are out use onee personas on TV to, well, entertain the audience. That may be the only exposure an average Japanese person has to a real-life openly gay or trans person.
As for fiction, media creators tend to fall back on archetypes based on prejudices for minority characters, and that includes gay men. A bit like how the US has the “fairy” archetype, Japan has the “okama”.
Now, オカマ (“okama”, lit. rice pot) is not a word used in polite conversation to refer to people. It’s a homophobic and transphobic slur, directed at people who fit the onee stereotype.
If you’re not a Japanese queer man or transfem individual, you shouldn’t direct it at anyone, period. Not even yourself. Although there are some who reclaim the term, it’s still largely considered derogatory and insulting.
Japanese media has an okama character archetype, which reflects how society thinks a gay man looks and acts. You may be surprised to hear that it’s not the willowy, androgynous bishounen of shoujo manga.
I made this warning on Twitter but i figured i might as well do it here.
With the news of all Nitro+Chiral games being translates to English (Drammatical Murder, Lamento Beyond the Void, Togainu no Chi/True Blood, and Sweet Pool)
If you’ve only played DmmD be very careful about playing the other games. DmmD is by far the most vanilla of the n+c games and if you expect the other ones to be the same you’ll have a really, really bad time. Heed the warnings because the gross stuff is present from the beginning, not just the bad endings.
This is a psa! DMMd is nsfw, and it has efed up content in it. Its finally getting its English release, but with the way tumblr is now, there will be a lot of hate in the tag. Please for the love of everything in the world, dont post your hate in the tag? Yes, we know what happens, yes there is content that is ‘bad’ (that’s why it’s called a bad ending? And if you’re talking about Minks ending you obviously just weren’t paying attention, like a lot of us the first time we played it). Now. Get that in your head. WE. KNOW. and we are still allowed to like things with ‘controversial’ content.
