Recent Adventures in Charlotte, North Carolina...
November 9, 2001
In lieu of driving, I opted to fly United Airlines to Charlotte. It was, I thought, a sort of patriotic thing to do after the September 11th attacks. And, as you probably guessed, it was much cheaper to fly than to drive.
Things are a little different now. I saw some National Guard people with machine guns that looked like toys but weren't. I got searched—patted down even. The man said, "I'm going to touch the small of your back now," and I thought that was sort of strange.
He took everything out of my purse and my bag, and when he got to my teddy bear (yes, I take him with me on long trips...) he asked me what his name was (Vincent Price Bear) and noted Vincent's many surgeries. I was the only one at my gate that got that kind of thorough going over. It really must be random—unless they thought I was a terrorist disguised as a mouse. The whole experience was sad and fascinating at the same time.
I took this aerial photo of the Appalachian Mountains on the way to Charlotte. It was so quiet on that plane; I had the entire row of seats to myself...
Here's the bald truth: I've been avoiding telling you about my book signing in Charlotte because it was abysmal. I try to see it as a lesson in demographics. Newsstand International had a booth at the Southern Living Christmas Show and they had a few book signings there for featured authors. They said there would be thousands of people there, and, certainly, there were. Unfortunately, they were all the same person. I call her the drum lady, and I can still hear the disapproval in her voice.
As far as I can tell, the Southern Living Christmas Show is not the place to let your freak flag fly. For luck I wore my favorite leopard-print blouse—in hindsight, I should've worn a black cardigan buttoned up to my neck. I sat at my little table with a pile of my books and tried my very best to interest passersby in The Lost Soul Companion.
The drum lady wore a red sweatshirt with a tasteful Christmas tree appliqué. I told her my book was for people who marched to the beat of a different drummer and in a slow, thick drawl, she replied, "I try not to do that...unless it's the right drum." And with that, she was gone.
Down the way to my right was a food processor salesman. He wore a hands-free microphone headset so that he could chop, slice, dice—and reach the back row at the same time. "This little baby does celery—with no strings attached. Is this the most amazing thing you've ever seen or what!" And it was amazing. After I'd heard his pitch for the fourth time I began to think that I should buy one myself—even though I never actually cook. How do I get myself into these situations?
I am grateful that I did connect with two or three lost soul types. If it weren't for them I really would've felt as if I were on the Moon.
I stayed with a couple of friends in Charlotte, and they made sure I didn't get lost or lonely. We went to the NASCAR track because, by all accounts, you can't be in Charlotte and not go see this. Dale Earnhardt Jr. was practicing—at least I think it was him. Someone was driving his car around in circles anyway. It was actually pretty neat. Unlike the Indy 500 track, you can see all the way around this one.
The best thing about Charlotte is the sky. It is impossibly, endlessly clear and blue. I will keep it in mind for winter when the dismal Indiana sky starts pressing in on me too much.