Total Pageviews

Follow by Email

Saturday, November 2, 2013

It’s different in South Carolina


I started this three days ago, typed two sentences, and somehow lost it. I hope I can still remember what’s different. For one thing, the scenery, right? It’s more rural and empty, which is good! We drove around Atlanta (Frequently mispronounced “Ick-lanta” for reasons that escape me. I have also heard “Ick-lantic Ocean.” Anyone know why?) This was pure hell for Joyce because of the traffic, and she spent most of that leg lying down in her seat. We really only swung around the southeastern corner, so it wasn’t that bad. For me, anyway, and I’m sure the kids didn’t care. It was a fairly short drive to our Red Roof Inn in Greenville, which is the sort of place we would never stay in, and neither should you, whoever you are. It’s seedy and run-down despite being “newly renovated” and attracts the most unsavory-looking clientele who are characterized primarily by smoking and toothlessness. There were biker types and people congregated in little groups, smoking, all over the place. That was another difference between South Carolina and Georgia: poverty. You could see it and feel it everywhere. I’m sure there were drug deals going down, and my room was next to a bunch of characters who looked questionable enough that I took the gun to my room. We keep it hidden in a case in a canvas bag for more safety and security. However, everyone was quiet and we slept great! So go figure.

The motel had absolutely nothing in the way of amenities, not even a coin laundry, and the wifi didn’t work again, but I knew that was a problem with my computer and not the property, so I called the local geek squad, and they came right out and fixed it on Sunday morning. It was an internal command I didn’t know how to give. Since I’m working this trip, it’s at least a tax write-off.

Now, while I waited at the motel for the geek, Joyce went off in search of McDonalds’ for breakfast sausage biscuits, the only reason we ever go there, and had an adventure of her own. While she was standing in line, a bra fell out of her shirt. Not her bra, mine. We had rinsed them out and hung them to dry in her room the night before, and she stuck it up under her shirt to carry it down to my room, but then she forgot about it. Until McDonalds’. While she was standing in line, the bra fell out on the floor without her realizing it. So the man behind her saw it and asked if it was hers, and since it wasn’t, she had to say no, but she knew whose it was, she said, and picked it up. By this time they had reached the counter and Joyce was trying to explain but the clerk said, “Please! I don’t wanna know!” but she gave Joyce a plastic bag for it anyway.

After the computer was fixed, we took the kids for a nice ride. And here are pictures of the pretty lake, probably High Falls Lake County Park, where we stopped. Also where some apparently completely crazy people were holding a Newfoundland (dog) Rescue demonstration. There was just so much screaming from the people, not the dogs, giving commands from the shore and small boats. Luckily we were able to find a nice place far enough away that they didn’t bother us much. The dogs had a good sniff, poop and pee, and we just enjoyed the (mostly) peace and quiet.

The previous evening we had sent out for Chinese, and even in that weird little spot, it was excellent. That was the third surprise along with the quiet at night and the computer geeks. The second night there we had so much Chinese stuff left over, we just got a Subway footlong, and ate it all in stages while drinking beer and watching football in one of our ratty rooms. And despite being wrong about the behavior of the clientele, and the quiet nights, we were glad to leave. And you can be sure we were the only ones at either place so far picking up shit, either. When I arrive at a pet walk area, it’s always disgusting, but we keep picking up after them all the same. So if you walk your dog anywhere and don’t pick up, you’re worse than a pig, because pigs are clean.

No comments:

Post a Comment