If anyone from my writing workshop read that title and groaned inwardly, I swear, this has nothing to do with my dissertation novel, Rock City, or Layla and Wally. Really. Promise.
Currently, I'm sitting in my surprisingly well-appointed room at the Holiday Inn outside Anderson, SC. The bed is huge, the couch seems passable, and the Wi-Fi is free, so I can't complain. My only problem is the lack of local dining options - we're limited to McDonald's or Waffle House, and I'm having Scholars' Bowl flashbacks as I type. I could, of course, drive on down the road until I reached civilization and/or a real restaurant, but I've been driving all day and I'm really not feeling the whole I-85 thing right now. Besides, I have gourmet cake waiting, but more on that in a minute.
I left home at 7 AM in my spiffy, albeit cruise control-less, rental car, headed for parts unknown with only my Google directions and Hertz GPS to guide me. Once past Atlanta (and boy, that's a hurdle - I don't know how anyone learns to drive in that city, because if I had tried to learn in Atlanta, I would have ended up a whimpering mass on the side of the road), I had smooth sailing until I reached Anderson. Having allotted entirely too much time to driving, as usual, I found myself with nearly two hours to kill, so I parked and took a much-welcome stroll.
In many ways, downtown Anderson reminds me of Vicksburg, minus the casino boat. The storefronts are renovated 19th-century designs, and the downtown strip has plenty of pedestrian traffic and ample parking. I ate at a nice deli, then found a great little shop that sells beads and semi-precious necklaces, and bought myself a string of rough-hewn turquoise nuggets (it was either that or the lapis disks, and I went cheap at $50). Then I found a Thunderbird Motel and laughed - let's talk retro.
My interview went well, and concluded with a takeaway box of cake, which I am eagerly anticipating post-Waffle House and possibly pre-gym (we shall see whether the gym comes tonight or first thing tomorrow). I had called Brandon earlier to ask where her mother's store was located, and, thinking I had enough information, plugged what I had into my GPS and set off for Greenville.
Don't get me wrong, the GPS is fabulous. I would never have found Greenville without it, and I'm not sure what we did before these car systems came along. Nevertheless, half an hour later, I realized I was definitely on the wrong Main Street, and so I called Brandon back and got the address. I'm glad I did - her mother was as sweet as could be and gave me guides - and after I left the shop, I strolled through Greenville's shopping district until I found Falls Park. Must be nice to have a waterfall downtown; being from Birmingham, the great landlocked metropolis of the southeast, I wouldn't know. Birmingham needs to learn from Greenville - I'd definitely go back.
And now, slightly road weary but none the worse for my adventures, I'm off to find dinner. This may just turn into an early night after all.
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Post-dinner post script: Waffle House is as godawful as I remember. That has to be the greasiest omelet and hashbrowns I've ever had. Cake it is.
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