Southern Swing, May 2010, Day 8 - Charlotte to Los Angeles

Something strange happened.  I lost 17 pictures.  Poof!  This is unfortunate, because this means I cannot show you a daytime view of the Charlotte airport's statue.  Even more unfortunate, I always take the position in instances such as this that the problem was human error.  In other words, by my own rules, this was my fault.  It really stinks being mentally consistent.  It would be much nicer to blame people when it is someone else and blame technology when it is me.  And here we have Reason #37 why Jeff cannot run for President.

Fortunately I only lost the first 17 pictures of the day.  Therefore, you merely have to imagine seeing the Ballantyne Luxury Collection Hotel one last time, maybe a shot of the road, the aforementioned fountain shot, and maybe an airport candid of strangers in black and white.

There.  Let us continue.

I spotted this man as we taxied toward the runway and the patron saint of centered picture shined her light upon me.  Talk about a man looking isolated in his environment.

Queen City.  Charlotte, North Carolina.

In French this is probably not, "Le wing." But it sure looks like it to me.

The vastness that is ATL, an insane monument to moving human beings quickly across various distances.

I did my best to get you a shot of planes lined up like cars at an auto dealership.

I am reminded of a Propellerheads song that features an announcer stating, "Two thousand people in a seething, roaring, shouting mass."  I would wager that any direction you look inside ATL you are going to see at least two thousand people.

Can you make Chili's Chicken Crisps look artistically valid?  Can you?

Not really.

A view out the Chili's window.

We boarded the plane and I soon began to amuse myself with the on board trivia competition.  Then they announced that they would have restart the entire system because some bum somewhere could not get his stinking movie to start.

My reflection as well as proof that the plane's entertainment system runs on Linux.  A jillion dollar airplane and they go open source.

I know it was silly of me, but I took a picture of the screen every time I won a round of trivia.

Which was every round.  Like, fifteen or twenty victories and no defeats.

Until...

My own betrothed defeated me!

Babs defeats Dood by 700 points, Film At Eleven.

Dood reclaims the title.

Los Angeles.

Los Angeles Taxi.

I was so excited to be home that I completely failed to take any picture to commemorate this fact.  After much debate, I decided to precisely map out our entire trip for you to provide emotional closure.

Never discount the value of precision.  I tossed on the trip's title and year as well.

We are home for a while.  Until... some fancy shmancy weekend at a fancy shmancy Montana ranch that will likely be a single post trip.

Until then... Enjoy.

Southern Swing, May 2010, Day 7 - Charlotte

Here it is. The penultimate day of the Southern Swing. Tomorrow we fly back to Los Angeles. Today, we... literally do not have to do anything. We plan to meet Barbie's friend Lauren who moved to Charlotte from New York City, but other than that and the usual on-the-laptop work, we do not have to do a gosh darned thing.

The view out our window. It is raining. Before the rain began, there was a line of golfers whacking balls on that driving range. I suppose they are now lined up at the bar.

With our room and suite upgrade, we also get lunch in the hotel. Shall we?

The bar, where we chose to eat. Much more comfortable than the restaurant. And we got a bonus; two lunch meetings slash sales pitches going on next to us, so that we got to listen to the salesmen say, "We're here to do whatever it takes to get your business," and then hear the response, "To be honest, we need a better price," and then, silence.

When the hotel is treating, you treat yourself to three courses. Let us begin.

French onion soup. I should stop ordering this when I am not at Balthazar in NYC, because all other onion soups make me sad inside that they are not Batlhazar's Onion Soup Fondue.

Barbie's chicken club with sweet potato fries.

My turkey burger with bacon. Shame on me for two things. One, I did not ask for blue cheese. Two, I did not ask for BBQ sauce. Seriously. I am a fool.

Barbie's dessert, but I completely forgot what the stuff under the stuff was.

My dessert. Pretty obvious what this is.

This is the last golf course pic, I swear. I just wanted to share the pond and fountain.

With some time free in the afternoon, Barbie decided to fulfill her quest. What quest? In Charleston she spotted a young woman with, "awesome shoes." Barbie asked her where she purchased said shoes. Young woman responded, "Target." Guess where we headed off to?

Welcome to target. Us Awesome.

I can name, oh, eleventy people I know for a fact will be horribly annoyed that I flipped this picture vertically.

For the record, Barbie would never make me wait while she goes shoe shopping at home. But this was a quest. And for those who want to know... yes. The Target shoes of awesomeness were found and purchased.

The Ballantyne, A Luxury Collection Hotel, indoor pools.

The wonderful Lauren came to our hotel suite. Amazingly, she lives down the street. Originally, we were planning to stay at a hotel downtown. Someone in Charleston recommended the Ballantyne, and we switched not knowing that this choice placed us literally next to the people we would be visiting in Charlotte.

Lauren came and we spent some time catching up in the room, and soon it was off to a local Spanish restaurant that Barbie had found on Open Table, Miro Spanish Grille. A restaurant named after one of my favorite artists? Sign me up. If you really, really know me, you know that I have an authenticated Miro lithograph my parents bought me in 1979 that looks exactly like my childhood teddy bear. Miro is not Picasso, but he matters.

I love when a menu is online. Get ready for food detail.

Platanos, fried plantains.

Manchego y Jamon, prosciutto and manchego cheese.

Vieiras, sauteed scallops in a sun dried tomato and peppers sauce.

Langostinos al Pil Pil, sauteed jumbo shrimp in garlic, olive oil, and paprika. (Yes, we nearly ate it all, but I took a picture of the last shrimp.)

Paella Valenciana, traditional Spanish recipe with seafood, chicken and saffron rice. It was almost as good as the paella we had in Madrid, and just about equal to the paella in Barcelona.

After a meal so good we did not even have room for dessert, we went back and talked with Lauren late into the night.

And then, after Lauren went home, we nerded out and ordered the LOST finale on the "Just Missed TV" section of the hotel's pay-per-view system.

The bags are packed. Time to sleep.

Southern Swing, May 2010, Day 6 - Charleston to Charlotte

Another wedding in the past, another bride and groom turned into just a married couple, and another day we eat lunch and get the heck out of town.

When the Sweetwater Cafe is across the street, why walk any further?

The bags are packed. Time to leave Charleston.

On the highway between Charleston, South Carolina and Charlotte, North Carolina, I noted two points of interest. Both billboards. Both had a person's face on the left and a brief pitch to the right. The first, "Rush Limbaugh. Saving the Soul of America." The second, "Islam Rising. Be Warned." I am sure that for the first you are imagining the image correctly, but I am not sure. You see, one might have expected a terrorist type, and one would be wrong. It featured a wearing a burka. Oddly, not a flat black burka but a pretty one with purple trim.

Most interesting.

We crossed the state line from South to North, and soon we were approaching the home of our friends from Los Angeles who had relocated to Charlotte.

I was driving as we passed this mega church, the Calvary Church of Charlotte. I pulled out my iPhone and handed it to Barbie as fast as possible. The size of a sports stadium, this non-denominational evangelical church's sanctuary is 310,000 square feet and seats 5,106 people. I honestly cannot tell you if that is any bigger or smaller than the huge churches we have seen in Europe. But I will say that the architecture, for me, feels a bit temporary. I do not see people coming to this building a hundred years from now, but St, Peter's, Notre Dame, St. Paul's, and the Berliner Dom will still be there. (I had to name a non-Catholic building at the end there.)

The GPS took us right to Ari and Marcy's door, and soon we went from the hustled world hotels and restaurants to someone's home.

An actual home.

An actual child.

The answer is yes. The question is, "Couldn't you just eat her up?" For the record, this little cutie is Sephira.

Sephira's older brother, Shayne. A supercol dude. We got to play with him for a good while, and let me put it this way; if Ari and Marcy still lived in Los Angeles, we would be wanting them to go out with other friends so that we could babysit.

Sephira on Shayne's bed. You are wanting to eat her up even more now.

The babysitter arrived, and the four of us headed out to dinner.

Ari approaching... man, I forget the name of the restaurant. It is a British pub, which is appropriate because the British Colony of North Carolina named this city Charlotte after King George III's wife. Now you know why Charlotte is called Queen City and they have little royal crowns on most street signs.

For the record, the colonists thought that naming the city after his wife might make King George send a little favoritism their way. It did not work. And now I ask you to experience a "the more things change moment" and recall the small towns in America that have recently named themselves after corporations in attempt to gain favor.

Chicken Fried Chicken. Yes. Chicken Fried Chicken. Before you go judging my dinner, I have two things to tell you. Firstly, it was delicious. That creamed spinach was perfect. Secondly, it is not simply called, "Fried Chicken," because these are two boneless breasts. Fried Chicken is a piece of chicken fried, bones and all. So, you see, do not think of my Chicken Fried Chicken as some sort of super-fried monstrosity. Think of it as boneless chicken breasts, chicken fried.

We ate outside in the dark, and until Apple releases their 4th version of the iPhone I have no flash. Therefore, the above picture is brought to you in the light of Ari's Motorola Droid. A Google phone and an Apple phone, working together in harmony.

After dinner we went for a drive to downtown Charlotte, which they call, "Uptown," in an effort to give it that upper class vibe. As in it is a good part of town. They are very aware of such things in Charlotte. Before non-Charlotteans judge that little bit of verbal trickery, note that Charlotte was chosen the "Best Place To Live In America" by Relocate-America.com in 2008. You cannot win the big prize without a little strategy.

Yes, the people of Charlotte are officially called, "Charlotteans." I looked it up.

On our way into Uptown.

I absolutely love it.

Barbie, Marcy, and Ari, walking into the EpiCentre. A modernly designed outdoor mall with, no joke, the best theaters in North America, a bowling alley that belongs in Hollywood, restaurants, shopping, a W Hotel, and, um, everything else you could ask for.

The escalators up to the movie theaters. You can see my three companions get closer and closer while the lighting changes. These theaters feature huge, cushy seats and you can literally order a steak dinner and a beer and have them brought to your seat.

Hollywood-style bowling in North Carolina. Behind these bowlers is a massive bar and lounge area that was filled with young attractive people of all backgrounds. The Queen City shows her cosmopolitan side, my friends.

Not a great picture, but I have this thing about sky scrapers at night.

From the lobby of the W Hotel, around six floors up.

Alas, it is time for Ari and Marcy to get home and let the sitter go on her way, and time for us to head to our hotel.

The Ballantyne, A Luxury Collection Hotel. Hey, that's what they have on every piece of paper in this hotel.

I find it funny that I have to take a picture of every hotel lobby.

Looks like home.

They upgraded us to a suite, which meant two large rooms connected by a door, but one room had a living room layout and the other a bedroom layout. Basically, enough room for us to spend the rest of our lives there. And two full bathrooms!

But, in spite of the fact that there was a two room suite for me to show you, this is all you get.

The bed. The TV. The feet.

Home.