Living so close to what is often referred to as Savannah’s twin city, we thought it was downright shameful that we had never spent a weekend in the other fine southern city. So we set out to do just that. On our way, we had to make a pit stop somewhere around SC-17, and I’m going to need you to brace yourself for this one. I preface this by saying I am a full-fledged southerner. For better or worse, more Cracker Queen than Belle. But even I have never seen the likes of this:

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This is just priceless and I honestly think I should win some sort of award for capturing this image. This my friends, belongs on a cover of some magazine somewhere. One time, the great Dixie Carter (by way of playing Julia Sugarbaker on Designing Women) had to school a New York Times writer about how southerners don’t eat dirt for vitamins. But then you go in a gas station somewhere and see a pickled parts buffet and then kind of think “Well, damn. No wonder they think we don’t have indoor plumbing down here.”

Oh, I’m just getting warmed up here.

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I’m not going to tell you that I saw some jackass get out of this monstrosity and purchase an assortment of pickled items. But I will tell you that after I saw all of the above three things happen in a VERY CLOSE time frame, I coined a new state motto. “South Carolina: Where People are Different.” Feel free to quote me extensively on that. Get the “i” in my name right, okay? It’s J-A-M-I-E Davis.

Alright, I realize we had less than a glamorous start on our Charleston adventure, but I promise you I wasn’t jaded.

Here’s the thing about Charleston. There’s great shopping, restaurants, park walking, and historic architecture. Kind of like Savannah, where we already live and enjoy the amenities daily? We had a nice walk around the Battery Park and waterfront areas.

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We even went and checked out Folly Beach, which is a funky little beach town, but you know what I ultimately said? I told Bob that I was so sick of seeing so many people gathered around all these brown oceans we have here. He informed me that the Atlantic is brown because of river sediment, and some more science stuff that I guess makes sense but I don’t care because I just want the ocean to be blue. South Beach, Miami. These people know what an ocean should look like. The entire Caribbean Sea. Also very pleasing. I said, “If we can figure out how to turn the Savannah River green on St. Patrick’s Day, we can figure out how to make the Atlantic blue off Tybee.” Bob said we cannot just make the ocean blue because it will kill all the fish and all this other crap (which I don’t care about, because I don’t even like fish). I don’t want to turn the entire Atlantic Ocean blue, anyway. Just the parts where I visit. My point is, I don’t think anyone is even trying to make it prettier and that makes me just so sad. Why can’t I have a blue ocean where I live and places I occasionally visit? Life sucks.

But I digress. I don’t want to slam Charleston, and that’s not what I’m trying to do. We are always glad to go see somewhere new. I like bacon and cheddar cheese on my grits just as much as the next person. Usually, we like to take in the local art museum when we can. We did that over at the Gibbes and here is the best thing I have to say about that:

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That light was pretty, though. They closed 1/3 of the museum but still extracted full price admission from us and that was disappointing. Of course we didn’t complain about it, what kind of people do you think we are? We would have been more than happy to pay obviously, I just don’t appreciate the poor customer service. You don’t have to try to pull one over on me at the art museum, okay? We can pay your admission. In case you haven’t heard, I have much bigger problems on my hands to contend with, namely changing the color of the Atlantic Ocean (but only where I live and occasionally visit).

What else? Here’s the difference between Charleston people and Savannah people. Georgia was a penal colony. Charleston was a place where the wealthy English first went to Barbados, and then came here. Where people leave signs like this outside their homes in the Battery Park area.

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I’m just not the kind of person who gets all hot and bothered when a dog behaves like a dog. I guess in Charleston, the old blue bloods make even the dogs walk the line.

As always, we log our adventures inside our “Play” Journal, by Stealth Journals. “Play,” is an indexed book journal by Stealth Journals that should be used to record all of your good times.

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