In Our Own Way

When you've gotta go, you've gotta go.

Real-Life Septuagenarian-Roadtrip Dialogue: Two Ships Passing in the Night Edition

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[The setting: Wilmington, NC. The couple has already done grocery shopping for the day’s relocation to an Airbnb, from this hotel: they’ve picked up milk and creamer, and kept it in the refrigerator overnight; ditto bottles of water and soda, a small bottle of vinegar to be used for mysterious laundry purposes (Hers), and so on. He has already filled His insulated water bottle, the previous night, and as they prepare to move their luggage down to the lobby He takes a first generous swig from it.]

He: Gaaaaaah! What the living hell did I just drink a mouthful of?!?

[He opens the water bottle, takes a whiff, gags and sputters. He checks the refrigerated plastic bottle from which He filled His own metal one.]

He: Jeezus Chr—! Why the hell was the bottle of vinegar in the refrigerator?!?

[He rushes to the bathroom sink, metal water bottle in hand. He dumps its remaining contents into the sink, continues coughing and retching, washing His mouth out with tap water.]

She (from other room): What are you doing?!?

He (spitting and coughing): I’m dumping the rest of this sh!t into the sink!

She: You’re dumping out all that vinegar? I need that vinegar for washing my clothes!

[He stares at His reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are tearing and bloodshot. His tongue feels corrugated. His throat burns like that time when He was a kid and clumsily tried siphoning gasoline from a canister for use in a go-cart, and the fuel ran down His esophagus.]

He: I just drank vinegar, and laundry is what you’re worried about?!?

She (calling out his name): You don’t understand! I needed that vinegar for my clothes! And that little bottle was the perfect size for a trip — I’ve never seen vinegar in such a small bottle! Now we have to go back to that store for more!

[He fumbles about for a breath strip, for a second and a third breath strip. He swallows, downs a fourth breath strip. His forehead is beaded with sweat. His eyebrows will probably return to their normal altitude by evening. His throat will burn for a couple days, and He will be awash for that long in inescapable olfactory memories of dyeing Easter eggs.]

He (weakly): Okay, okay… Let me go down to the lobby for a luggage cart. Then I’ll get the car, and then we can go the store for more vinegar and then we can do whatever until it’s time to check in at the Airbnb.

She: I just really can’t believe you drank my vinegar! Jeezus!

Wilmington, NC: A Bit of a Break (or Two, or Three…)

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Photo caption: The Missus didn’t walk out of the store empty-handed, but she did manage to resist grabbing this T-shirt. I now believe that her Spirit Animal is an octopus.

Well, I’ve gotta say: Wilmington, North Carolina — based on the evidence of exactly one day — has done a respectable job convincing us of its livability.

Mind you, we haven’t yet sampled much of “the Wilmington experience.” We had to check out of our one-night hotel by 11:00, and couldn’t check into our three-night Airbnb until 4:00 PM. We filled the time by:

Photo #2 caption: just a small bit of the funky decor at The Basics, downtown Wilmington.
  • Looking for a good breakfast place. First choice didn’t work out: closed. (Technically not CLOSED-closed; they just had a hand-lettered sign on the locked front door saying something like “That’s all for today.”) Second choice, though, was very, very nice. The Missus went in while I figured out how to feed the parking meter without cash, and by the time I got there she already had some kind of drink with, hmm, looked like tomato juice, and was that a stalk of celery? and was that swirls of Worcestershire sauce? and black pepper??? Good food, good atmosphere, good service. They also seem very good-music-focused — another plus! Posters on the wall (and some T-shirts for sale) featured Thelonius Monk, David Bowie, Miles Davis, and probably a half-dozen other performers from the last 75 years or so.
  • Conveniently, the restaurant was located in a retail complex called The Cotton Exchange. I say “conveniently” because this was also one of the places we wanted to check out while in Wilmington. As the name suggests, back in the 19th century the building(s) in question served as a center of the local cotton industry. Rather than tear down the whole thing and replace it with something shiny but forgettable, local philanthropists chipped in to simply refurbish and convert the interior. It’s a very cunningly arranged warren of little shops, bars, ice cream parlors, more shops, with the corridors going up and down stairs as well as winding around unpredictably.
  • Photo #3 caption: downtown musical tastes sprawl all over the map.
    After we’d exhausted ourselves (without exhausting the places to visit) in the The Cotton Exchange, and fortified not only by our very nice brunch but also by some — yes! — ice cream, we went out onto Front Street to return to the car, making only a couple more detours into stores whose interiors seemed too inviting to pass up. It was hard to miss one obvious point: the arts have a pretty solid footing in Wilmington. (See photo at right.)
  • When we left downtown, it was still a little too early to check in, so we headed for a really nice local supermarket, called Harris-Teeter. The plan was to pick up some basic supplies for the next few days, especially considering that these are “extended” stays of 3-4 days each. (The Missus wants to be able to cook a bit, for instance.)

Finally, we got to the Airbnb where we’d spend the next three nights: a little bungalow called “the Perry Cottage” (named after the street it’s located on). If I get a chance, I’ll post some more photos of it later.

For now, I’ll say that we’re looking forward to our plans for today — i.e., doing absolutely nothing.

Photo #4 caption: a good place, we believe, when you don’t feel like doing anything in particular — a porch swing built for two.

Ding! Ding! Ding! (Subtitle: We Are Alarmed)

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Photo caption: not a Sleep Inn employee. (I just found this picture on the Internet somewhere.) But he might have been!

Last night we arrived in Wilmington, NC, for just the one night at a Hampton Inn. (We’ve since relocated to an Airbnb closer to the shore for a few days after that.)

But two nights ago, ah yes: the stuff of which memories are forged:

We were spending our second night at a Sleep Inn in Charleston, SC. At 5:00 AM, I was awakened by The Missus, beating me (lightly but unmistakably) on the shoulder. Of course both my hearing aids were on the night stand, but she at least had had the presence of mind to turn on the light there, too. Result: I could at least see her lips forming a one-syllable word starting with F, followed by I—

“Fire?!?” I exclaimed, fumbling for the hearing aids. She was already donning some kind of wrap but yes-yes-yes, she affirmed, waving me to hurry. I donned one hearing aid (the main one) and an overshirt, not stopping for my phone, laptop, camera, or anything else. On my way to the door I saw The Missus emerging from the bathroom and I thought, Good idea. I ducked in there myself, “drained the keg” (as the saying goes), and then, finally, made my way to the door behind The Missus.

It was open partway, and we could see people milling around in the hallway looking very confused and tired. And then I looked down, and realized I was just in the overshirt, my undershirt and undershorts. NO PANTS. I backed away from the door, turned to one side and the other, started to walk back into the room—

And then The Missus was back. Never mind, she said, False alarm.

So, not really a Big Story. But it might’ve been. We’re just glad that for once, recently, drama passed us by.

July 29-31… and Beyond!

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Photo 1 caption: Central stairway in the River Street Inn, Savannah. We entered the lobby from the street-level parking lot — on the fourth floor. The “first” floor was actually at the level of the river — it’s that sheer and sudden a drop.


We arrived in Savannah, Georgia, around 7:45 pm on Thursday. (If you can imagine such a thing, we left the House o’ Canines later than planned. Indeed, The Stepdaughter and Stepson-in-Law had themselves already left the premises on separate errands of their own. So there was no trumpet fanfare or weepy hanky-waving to see us out the gate — just a few “Have a nice trip!” farewells from the staff.)

The drive — pretty much all I-95 — was mostly uneventful, with some fierce but brief rain and ominous clouds to see us off at the Florida-Georgia border. one stop, for gas and snacks. En route, The Missus was busily researching one thing and another — about Savannah (places to eat *cough*), Charleston (things to do, or not do), the road ahead (gas stations? speed traps? weather conditions?). Gotta love an iPad which doesn’t depend on WiFi, right?

After checking in, we changed clothes and prepared to head out for dinner. By now it was 8:45-9:00 and, The Missus feared, we would not be able to get seated at The Olde Pink House — her first choice for the evening’s meal. (It was just 2-3 blocks from the inn, so the convenience was hard to argue with.) In the event, though, we were able to get a small table in a corner of the basement tavern. (The Missus may have melodramatized our desperation and longing a bit.)

Photo 2 caption: Basement dining room in The Olde Pink House, Savannah.

The basement was certainly, er, basement-like. In the photo at left, you can get a sense of the dim lighting — but it was actually even darker than it appears here. The only illumination on our side of the area came from a small candle — one per table — which made it almost impossible to read the menus, to read each other’s lips, and so on.

But it was so late, and we were so tired, and the service so sluggish (personally, I think we were almost literally invisible to the staff). We each had just a drink or two, a bowl of she-crab soup, and an appetizer. And then we called it a night.

Around noon Friday, we checked out, had a very light breakfast snack, and then got on our way to Charleston, South Carolina. For this trip of less than 3 hours, we were able to stay on a plain old US highway — US Route 17 — for nearly the entire distance. I’d already checked out Rte 17 as a likely way of following the East Coast on up to at least Maryland, so I had some sense of what to expect: some areas it was almost like a limited-access highway, with a couple lanes in each direction, and in some “built-up” areas it had stoplights every here and there. The road surface never quite became primitive, exactly, but you could tell that the various areas got varying degrees of attention from whoever was responsible for highway funding.

On arrival in Charleston, we drove (intentionally) a short distance past the motel, headed straight for the BBQ restaurant The Missus had targeted: the Swig & Swine on Savannah Highway (i.e., Rte. 17). The food had received many positive reviews, and she had also reckoned — rightly — that I’d be very interested in the “swig” portion of the menu: heavily weighted towards beer and whiskey, with a good healthy chunk of creative cocktails — and a sort of “oh, by the way” assortment of non-alcoholic beverages.

And then, finally, we doubled back and checked in at the Sleep Inn. It was only around 3:30-4:00 in mid-afternoon at that point, but it was so damned hot and humid, y’know? We pulled in our overnight luggage and a few other things. And then we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the room: refiguring our itinerary and catching up on a little TV and reading.

Tomorrow, August 1: on to Wilmington, North Carolina!

Photo 3 caption: the “swigs” on offer at the Swig & Swine BBQ restaurant.

ADMIN: Listening to This Blog!

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I am happy to tell you that this seems to be working, mostly. When I post something which you can listen to, as well as read, you’ll find a “Listen to This” button at the top of the post. Just click on it to get the audio version.

It is not yet perfect, of course. (Nothing is!) The voice is artificial, for one thing, so the pacing and intonation may not be what you’re used to. And it doesn’t (yet) help at all with photographs and other illustrations.

I hope it helps, though — especially when used in conjunction with the “Font Resizer” thing I installed a few weeks ago. Let me know how it goes, of course!

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