Notes on Charleston: Gators and Gasoline

 “some moments are nice, some are

nicer, some are even worth

writing

about.”
—Charles Bukowski

    I finally dragged my roommates out on the town.  Wheezy smoked a blunt on his way home from work so he was feeling pretty good when he walked through the door.  His eyes were half-closed and despite the spray, you could still catch that faint aroma of cheap marijuana drifting off of him.  Squinty had been ready to go for hours.  He smoked a maduro cigar then took a shower and changed into all black clothes—collared shirt tucked into his trousers, sunglasses, and came out smelling fresh as fuck.  He had a highball of mint julep, but after that he wouldn’t touch any alcohol.  He was too embarrassed after blacking out the other night.  “That could have been it for me.” He said, after I reminded him he was too inebriated to hook up with his CPAP machine.  

    Wheezy arrived home about 5:30PM.  He changed while I drank a few beers and finished my reuben sandwich and cajun boiled peanuts.  Squinty was surprisingly sober.  He hadn’t even bought a fresh case of “gasoline.”  We piled into Wheezy’s beater truck, with me in the backseat, windows down and blaring country music down to the distillery.  The parking lot was packed, but to our surprise, there was barely anyone in the distillery.  Squinty and Wheezy got dressed up for nothing.  We sat at a table with this “menu” that told us to scan the barcode and load the app, order our drinks through the app, and pay for it there.  I couldn’t get mine to load.  Every fucking time an error message popped up.  Squinty and I sat there for maybe thirty minutes while Wheezy went on a blunt ride, just trying to figure out this goddamn app.  Squinty finally got it to work.  I had no service.  He ordered me a whiskey tasting flight with promises I would pay him back.




    We were there for maybe an hour trying to deal with this goddamn smart phone ordering system.  He ordered a flight.  Both of ours equated to about 2.5 ounces of liquor.  So a decent shot.  All that time and we couldn’t even leave with a buzz.  When he was checking out, via the app of course, it wouldn’t load.  That’s when I head a bartender say to another customer “Oh, yeah, you have to connect to our WIFI.”  Well, fuck, virgin Mary, you should have let us know you had a savior in your womb.

    Aside from the ordering problems, and the automatic piano playing boring songs, and there being no girls, barely any people to converse with, and just being a lackluster scene, the drinks were pretty bland too.  I’m not paying $40 a bottle for that bourbon or rye.  The pecan liqueur was good, though.  That’s the reason they put it at the end of the board on the flight.  To remind you there is still something worth having at that place.  It was like a desert at the end of a filling meal, jus satisfying, and warming.  Then we hightailed it out of that joint.

    Edisto Brewery is close enough to walk to.  The vibe there was amazing.  The bartender, one of the owners, talked to us like old friends and welcomed us to the place.  It was sparsely packed, but we sat at the bar with a handful of workers enjoying an after hours swig and a few customers.  She was really upbeat and you could tell she loved what she did for a living, giving us suggestions of other breweries to hit up, places to go, things to do while we are in town.  Just a welcoming atmosphere.  Everyone else talked and cracked jokes and made eye contact to include us in the conversation.  I will definitely be back.  I don’t think this is the place to score a late night hookup, but it’s a good place for an after work drink.  The beer is good, really good.  Good people.

    She told us there is a local alligator that lives in our pond.  Squinty was drinking the high gravity beers and got to feeling pretty good pretty quick.  He started talking to us about erectile dysfunction at a louder level than required for such a private issue.  Wheezy stared at his phone, high, wishing he was a year older.  They even stayed open past closing time to accommodate late arrivals.  Just a welcoming atmosphere.  I think it’s my new hangout.  Get to know people and whatnot. 

    Tomorrow I’m off and so is Wheezy.  I’m dragging him out of the apartment again to actually experience Charleston.  I’m not sure what we will do or where we will go.  Maybe I should consult the spirits on a ouija board?  Spirit of Edmund Ruffin, what do I do in Charleston besides shell Fort Sumter?   

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