CHARLESTON, SC: “Just Walkin’ Mah Bird” (07/29/09-07/31/09)

Success in travelling depends on an important combination of planning, and asking the locals where they go- it’s usually cheaper and better. Seeing as how in my ridiculous excitement I only planned for Summer Camp (read: Army) and Savannah, I didn’t really know a lot about Charleston, so it was lucky, the morning after we arrived (2 hours late), that we were pointed in the direction of Joseph’s for a breakfast of amazing pancakes and tablecloths on which you may color.

After our morning feast we picked up Clara Barton- our car for the remainder of the trip. Clara Barton is a sleek, sassy, incredibly fuel efficient silver fox of a Chevy Malibu.

First stop was the sleepy little town of Seabrook, as featured in “The Notebook.” It looks different... almost opposite. The marsh was lovely though.

Then: Caroline's Undoing... The Battery is the tip of the Charleston peninsula. The homes there are ridiculous (Caroline was in heaven). We did not see many locals. They were steering clear. Caroline would snap a picture. Stop. Walk. Shout (loudly), “STOP IT! THIS IS JUST TOO CUTE!” and Repeat. Another thing you can see at the battery is Fort Sumter… very far away.

Also at the battery is the Coast Guard, capping off our makeshift goal of hitting all the branches of the armed forces on this trip (Sidenote: You may be asking about the Marines. I chatted with one in Jen’s building in DC. We talked about the weather. We're best friends). Caroline captured a beautiful picture of the Coast Guard building with the beautiful sign in front of it that says “NO PHOTOGRAPHS.”

After sweet teas at the Barbados lounge, a crowded stroll through Market Square, and pictures in front of the “Cougar Club,” we arranged to attend a charity event sponsored by Bombay Sapphire Gin and GQ Magazine, honoring “Charleston chefs feed the needy," which is exactly where we headed after dinner at the Shem Shack and FREE COOKIES at the hotel. (The cookies = my favorite part about Charleston).

This event... was not what we were expecting. I think in our Yankee minds we were imagining an antebellum event with pizzazz, and charming Southern gentlemen entertaining us. It was different... almost opposite... The Sapphire Collins was being rolled out with no lemon juice and our social companions were... not the velveteen bunny. However, pictures of our mugs were snapped for “Carolina Nighlife” and “Charleston Magazine.” On the balcony Caroline saw her first Palmetto Bug (flying cockroach), and used me as a human shield against it… twice. Good thing I’m nice and meaty.

Afterwards at a bar called Henry’s, a conversation struck up with the only people from Jersey. Caroline made a joke about their reluctance to disclose their professions, and the rest of the night was spent with the boys insisting they were not, in fact, male escorts. I did not talk to them very much, as the band was perfect for a dance party, and SportsCenter was on. But I did learn that boys don’t like it when you address them directly as “Hey, Wingman!” This was followed by a night swim sans boys.

Our last morning in Charleston began with big plans to have brunch at the world famous Jestine’s, which does not open until 11am. Caroline and I spent the better part of the morning eating donuts to hold us over and whining, “What kind of brunch place doesn’t open until 11?!” As we were finally heading over, we saw a woman walking a pink cockatoo. “Just walkin’ ma bird.”

When we finally got to Jestine’s, we realized why it took so long to open- it did not serve brunch. We made that up on our own. The catfish was awesome though, with red rice and okra gumbo. Our sassy waitress came over and said, “Yeah! Y’all eatin’ Suthun now.” She loved us. We took our corn bread to go. The pecan pie didn't make it.

Then the three classy ladies: Megan, Caro, and Clara Barton hit the road and meandered down to Savannah.


Stayed tuned for Volume 1 Issue 4, First Ed: SAVANNAH, GA: “What’d ya do, crap your pants?”