I got into Ft. Lauderdale at 9:00 AM, marking the end of five days of fun and adventure, despite the ceaseless efforts of Greyhound to make it otherwise. Due to the delay beginning in Savannah, all the scheduled rest stops and layovers were in remote bus stations with no food service or hot drink machines. I wound up giving a young couple $5 so they wouldn’t go hungry. All told, the 19 hour trip was stretched into 23 hours. I was really dragging my butt into town. Greyhound eliminated the scheduled stops at locations with food [such as Orlando] so anyone who planned to eat along the way was out of luck. I’ve mentioned before that Pudding-Tat won’t eat when I am not watching. I left her with one of those seven day feeders. She never touched the food. I’m not sure what instinct is at work here. She seems fine and healthy but why won’t she eat?
For some reason I have all my old symptoms of jet lag. With that and the trip home, forgive if I repeat anything. The bright side is you’ve been getting double the picture quota. Enjoy, and here is a picture over my shoulder toward some guys rowing in the Cape Fear River. Note my cold weather clothes on that windy day. This picture does not show the grade of the road; I’m looking downhill at a very steep grade and I’m actually about as high above the river as you can see the banks on the far side.
The river walk is just visible where that white boat is moored. A lot of downtown is paved with cobblestones. This street is asphalt but parking was hard to find. We had the use of an Oldsmobile to get around which truly made things easy. This is the south end of the river walk and not shown just to the left is the main bridge into town. According to Teresa’s dad, this area was undiscovered until the Interstate (I-40) was extended to the coast in recent years. It previously stopped at I-95, which runs some 40 miles inland.If you look at a map, this is the area of North Carolina that dips down near the coast into South Carolina. Locally it is called “The Triangle”. It has an aura of prosperity, although except for some large headquarters type buildings, there does not seem to be a lot of heavy industry. They got a cement plant. Who doesn’t? I am still mystified by the lack of farm land. You see a few dairy operations, but was not this area the heart of the southern plantation system? That’s what I thought. There has been time for the trees to grow back since 1865. Who would let it, considering the value of cleared land in a forested area?
In all, I found Wilmington to be an enviable place to live. It may be more so once the real estate prices drop, as they surely will. It reminds me of northern Washington without Mt. Ranier. It seems a place for small business, although all the standards like jewelry stores and antiques are already saturated. There wasn’t time to form any lasting impressions but the place is more laid back than south Florida, where every farmer and his dog is out to screw you for your last penny. I even found a waitress type I really liked and spent some time shining her up. That’s something I have not done in fifteen years, but I’ve always been good with waitresses, dental assistants and nursing students. There is something about a gal in uniform.
I’m back in H’wood mode and watched a few episodes of the “Sopranos”. I like that expression, “half a rock” meaning $500,000. For the main part, the dialogue is showing its age. I wonder when Austin Powers will do a spoof? In real life, the US has basically forced a Swiss bank to cough up a list of 200-300 private bank accounts and is demanding many thousands more. The Feds used an obscure Swiss law and outright blackmail by threatening to sue the US branches of the bank. The IRS, who have not learned that prohibition does not work, make American appear even worse the bully. The Swiss law was to prevent money from crimes from being stored, but you see, cheating on American taxes is not, of itself, illegal in Switzerland. So it is Mafia: 1, U.S.A: 0.
Last, I ran through my vocals and am still struggling to learn the lyrics. They didn’t mean much to me before except to cue in my bass lines and stops. I often mix up entire verses although that doesn’t seem to be serious unless the song is a ballad. For instance, who cares what order you sing Jambalaya or The Breeze? As long as you get that first verse right. Check in tomorrow to see how things went while I was away.
