Last stop, Charlotte

And now we’re there. Get, out, check in, go up, drop off stuff, out to lunch. Simple, and yet here we go again. Anywhere I go two things will inevitably happen; 1) someone else who is lost will stop me and ask for directions, 2) I’ll get lost. I managed to set a record for both of these I think. Not 2 minutes out of the hotel a drive by moron asked me for directions. Always getting lost myself, I still can’t allow myself to give someone purposely bad directions. Too bad, because that has to be fun. Another block down the street and I’m lost. But I’m not alone; I’m chasing a man in a wheelchair who is also lost. The bad part about this is we’re going downhill and I certainly couldn’t keep up with those wheels.

Oh, and it’s hot already. A good 15-20 minutes late we finally find the restaurant. This was a good thing, not only for the comfort of AC and sitting, but also the atmosphere. Specifically the part where it’s time for me to order, which means the waiter gets to play that favorite travelling road show game known as, "Just how weird is this little freak?" After the typical, "I need that plain – NO CHEESE" even when ordering ice tea (you’d be surprised what some idiots think is ‘normal’ to be putting on food), we moved on to, "Ok, does that have any sauce, mayo, etc?" I’ll have you know, however, that I was not the sole cause of trouble this time. I did bond with others against condiments and those changing their orders. It got so bad we made him describe the contents of every item we even thought of ordering. We left a nice tip.

Now all fat and happy, it time to explore. Specifically the mall (also called South Park?). Oh yes, it’s time to shop! We get a ride to the mall from the hotel service. Now there’s a long story about language barriers, miscommunication and the art of bitching. More on that later. First sight in the mall? Sale signs. Oh yes, this will be good. Many stores, miles and discount racks later, I’ve managed to buy quite a number of things and come across yet another "Amazing Clay Overly General and Politically Incorrect Observation". As all the women in Raleigh are taller than average, all of the women in Charlotte have more than the average share of ‘milk’, if you know what I mean. A friend put it best, "even the 12yr olds here have C-cups." This, combined with yet another ACOGPIO – the ratio of women to men in Charlotte was about 1-to-1 (unlike Raleigh which is roughly 7.35-to-1 and that doesn’t really count since we only see most of those women driving, never actually at a place – ie, see prior Underground Lesbian Brothel Theory from last year).

So those two combined observations meant one thing for sure – I needed to sit down. Brain overload. My eyes almost got poked out several times and my neck is still sore. Incredible. And the mall itself was good. And now we return to the taxi saga. We take a taxi home instead of the hotel ride. Once there, our fearless leader promptly complains to the hotel about an incorrect fare. Later they call the room to apologize (and not very professionally apparently) and send up a bottle of wine. Although not a drinker myself, I thought it would be fun to watch them get drunk this early. As it turns out they couldn’t get drunk because the hotel didn’t send up the opener with it. Ugh.

We finally remedy that situation but it doesn’t matter, the cork is dry. At this point I thought our female companion might do the honors and just suck it out. Knocking the bottle over my head was obviously another approach. It didn’t actually come to that, which is just as well. I mean, if I did see a woman do that, would I be turned on, or scared? Finally the wine was had. Apparently it had had it already. As in, it was bad. We used it to grout the shower.

Next up: Lions and Tigers and… Hornets?