Monday, April 14, 2008

The magic backpack

A little story for a cloudy afternoon:
When my parents travel, they travel like gypsies. Seriously - ask anyone who's ever gone anywhere with them. For example, when I moved to Charleston about a year ago, they thoughtfully drove to Rock Hill to help me move. They were going to arrive around 4 or 5 one afternoon, and I had movers coming to load my rental truck (which Dad would be driving) around 8 the next morning. I said - just bring pajamas and toothbrushes. They were literally going to be there for about 14 hours. So they roll up that afternoon as planned - I happened to see them pull up while I was standing near the window. But they didn't appear at the door right away, so I went to the window again. They were unloading their SUV. It took us three trips to unload their crap. They had brought a suitcase with their clothes, the "shoe bag" - the distinctive gray and white striped bag in which my mother carries her shoes when she travels - a crate of tools (which did come in handy...at least the drill), a cooler, a red bag which is designated for their food on trips (yes, they pretty much bring their own, whether they'll need it or not), two extra pillows, and "the backpack."

The backpack is a hiking pack which my parents take everywhere. In it, they have essentials for the adventurous traveler - a night light, a travel sound machine (whenever I share a hotel room with them, I have to pee at least three times during the night because of the f-ing raining at the rainfall noises turned up to ear-piercing levels), and sundry other items, most notably a stock of all kinds of medications, which, let me tell you are usually expired ("They're STILL GOOD!" my mother always protests). My parents' justification is that, if they get a sinus headache, diarrhea, and a giant gash requiring stitches, they're all set - no trip to Walgreen's needed. And that makes sense, sort of - I mean, I'm kind of a hyper traveller (guess why), and I usually carry a small bottle of allergy meds in my purse; but I've also been hospitalized for allergic reactions. But, you see, my obsessiveness does not spawn an entirely new backpack.

My mother and I always get into "playful" discussions about the topic of the backpack. This past weekend, she and I travelled to Perry, GA to visit my aunt and grandmother. I was going for one night - my mom was to be joined by my dad a couple of days later to extend their visit to FL to see my other grandmother. And I realize she was going to be gone longer. But she filled - the - entire - backseat - of - my - car. She had a giant suitcase (my dad's clothes, too - why should he bring his clothes a few days later in his huge truck when we could pack everyone's into my civic?), the red food bag, a cooler, the shoe bag, and the damn backpack. So, of course, I had to say something in passing about the ridiculous backpack. She responded that they didn't have to stop at Walgreen's every time they needed something - that's $4 if you get a headache or an upset stomach! $4 you could spend on a souvenir. It's just that, at least to me, it would be worth the stop - no extra baggage. Plus, of course, my souvenir would be not having diarrea, which is a-okay with me.

My parents haven't flown in a long time. I can't wait for those stories.
"Sir, this medication is no longer legal in the U.S. And you can't carry three pairs of nail clippers in your carry-on."
"But if a rabid squirrel bites me while I'm sleeping at the Holiday Inn Express, that salve will heal my wound more quickly! And I need the nail clippers, and the back-up pairs!"

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Reflections - how very zen

As I prepare for yet another move, I've been trying to make the most of my remaining time here and reflect on all that I've loved about this city (while at the same time celebrating crap I won't have to deal with anymore!). Here's the long and short, for now:

Things I will miss about Charleston:
-Being so close to my parents & brother, and all the old friends who live here, and the new ones that have become such a wonderful part of my life, too.
-Dorchester Presbyterian - that's going to be a hard transition, leaving and returning to another congregation!
-The ducks and sundry birds that entertain me & the cats at our apartment.
-The awesome running trail along the marsh at West Ashley Park.
-Getting to poke around downtown or find a funky new place to eat at a moment's notice.
-Great seafood, when I could afford it!
-Looking at the pretty water that, let's face it, is pretty much everywhere. I'm surprised my apartment doesn't have a bridge in it.
-Fantastic summer to-do stuff - Riverdogs baseball, Party at the Point, and sundry warm weather fun that only Charleston can cook up.
-Can you say Art Walk? Glorious.
-All the visitors!

Things I won't miss:
-Traffic.
-Sitting in traffic.
-Wanting to kill people in traffic.
-Paying out the nose for everything from rent to parking.
-My noisy neighbors who are making the most of their time on the dole - mostly by smoking enough to take down a pack of gorillas, listening to everything at high volume, and drinking cheap beer, courtesy of you, me, & Uncle Sam.
-Freaking "Palmetto Bugs" - a nice name for the one thing that makes my skin crawl more than ANYTHING ELSE. Ever.
-Having to drive for anything - even milk or tampons. I mean, geez!
-High taxes and car insurance.
-Trained monkey time - holla at the Pink House crew.
-TOURISTS wandering through the streets as if they're on some Hollywood set where, no, people aren't trying to drive, why do you ask? And tourists taking pictures of everything, including their freaking food, like they're Jane Goodall and we're primates. They're grits, people - get over it. And make like you're from here & grow some manners.
-Humidity hand-crafted by Satan himself from April to September.
-Rain that makes you pray for a drought straight out of the Bible. No one should have to wade in knee-deep dirty water just to get to and from the office, or to forage for freaking lunch food.
-All the visitors. Well - there won't be as many where I'm going, which will give me an occasional weekend for Lifetime television and other neglected priorities.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Things that make me go "hmm"

I love Charleston. I really do. It's like genteel, crazy Savannah meets a Southern Baptist convention with a penchant for secret drinking. And there are bugs and C of C students on bikes and rollerboards and drugs. Oh, and there are tourists. It's a charming, funny, aggravating city that you can't get away from once you've lived in it. And, damn, is it expensive!

But the other day reminded me of just what I find so oddly entertaining about this city. I was walking to my car, praying the rain would hold off and spare my hair its last remaining frizz. Any rain, and I knew it would actually stand up high enough to connect with the atmosphere. (There's a reason southern women love big hair - they're just embracing reality.) So - walking to my car. As I was on the sidewalk by the dog park, I ended up walking behing a woman who obviously also works at MUSC - scrubs, danksos, big bag of crap you have to carry in and out like you're camping at work. As we wound around the block, and crossed the street, this woman began looking behind her (at me) more and more frequently, and then began walking faster. Surely she didn't think I was following her? Oh, but she did. When we crossed the street, she crossed BACK over and weaved between cars to avoid walking on the same sidewalk as me, where I could CATCH her and mug her and steal her insulated lunch bag and extra pair of shoes. Eventually, fate took over, though, because she had to cross back over yet again, right next to me, to be on the right side of the street to get into her car - which she unlocked while giving me a combination dirty look/anxious, furtive glance over the shoulder.

Let me clarify that, while my hair was not at its A-1 best, I was wearing a skirt and a freaking twinset. Granted, my walking shoes are a little scruffy, but I was CARRYING A PAIR OF HEELS. Perhaps that's why I seemed so threatening.

And today, I saw a fake & bake girl in a bikini, riding a bike through Marion Square. I'm surprised this town even has movie theaters or cable television.