The South with a capital S

We are home safe and sound from North Carolina. It was a good trip. We got to spend lots of time with family. The kids totally wore me out, but in a good way that I miss already. We stayed in a nice hotel that had a wine bar! Our room had an L-shaped couch, a big plasma TV and a comfy bed with nice sheets, so I was very happy.

A northwestern girl’s impressions of the South:

• People are very nice, friendly and polite


• Homes are beautiful


• People drive fast


• It’s hot (but I did really well, I didn’t even get a heat rash)


• The vegetables are overcooked

A couple of funny stories:

Amerikan
One evening DK was out having a guy’s night with his brother. I decided to stay at the hotel and enjoy a few (maybe a few too many) glasses of wine and watch a three hour Law and Order marathon. I went outside for a smoke break (I know, I know, I am quitting soon!) and noticed a taxi from the “Amerikan” cab company. I grabbed my cell to take a picture and of course the cab driver walks out of the hotel and spots me. He informed me that he decided to spell American that way because he is an Obama supporter and he is ready for change. Although that was refreshing, I am not sure that was the true reason for the spelling. (Very blurry photo above.)

Abe Lincoln’s Cabin
While at the Raleigh/Durham airport, again I was outside smoking (I know, I know, I am quitting soon!) and a little old man drove up in his truck and parked next to the smoking area. I was reading my magazine but kind of keeping an eye on him. He was looking really closely at the ground and moving in a grid-like pattern. He noticed me looking at him and started talking to me. It was hard to make out everything he was saying because he spoke softly with a heavy accent and the background noise was loud, but I did catch that he had been coming to the airport smoking section every Wednesday for a long time looking for used wooden matches.

He informed me that he is building a small scale replica of Abe Lincoln’s cabin out of wooden matchsticks and the airport smoking area is his prime hunting ground. He said that it’s always windy on that side of the airport, so he has to look in the seams in the concrete because the match sticks usually roll in there. He found one. One. I asked if he had considered buying a box of matches. That way they would still have their little flammable tops on them and when he was all done he could light the little cabin on fire and watch the match tops flame up. My suggestion fell on deaf ears, literally.