If you’ve ever blasted down I-10 with the windows up, music on, and momentum fully committed, then suddenly dipped beneath the waterline, you already know the strange, fleeting thrill of the George Wallace Tunnel.
It lasts barely a minute, yet it has a way of imprinting itself on memory, that exact moment when the radio fizzles, daylight sharpens and dims, and Mobile’s river quietly closes in above you while traffic continues its steady, collective hum.
The tunnel doesn’t announce itself as special, which is part of the charm…