Columbia, etc.

It's been a weird few days over here in Columbia.

I had to drive through construction zones on two state borders to get here. Then I drove into North Carolina on back roads yesterday, killing time by hunting for antiques shops.

I've spoken with artists and experienced the drama of Baxter Village's resident street smoker first-hand. I have found a store that sells Doggles, and bought a sterling silver and lapis necklace for $20 at a musty shop in Fort Mill.

I have eaten meals at all three restaurants around my hotel - Cracker Barrel, Fuddrucker's, and the local Tex-Mex joint - and discovered I wasn't crazy about any of them. The waitress at Cracker Barrel shared my affinity for Sudoku, and the one at the Tex-Mex place kept calling me "sweetheart". Once, she touched my shoulder, and I was only slightly creeped out.

I have discovered that a little book of Sudoku is the greatest cure for boredom when dining alone. It works equally well as a soporific at night.

I have learned that a king-sized bed is sinfully large when you're in it alone, and that I never manage to cover more than two-thirds of it at one time.

I've been slightly grossed out by the Best Western cleaning staff, which has managed to overlook the short and curly someone left on my shower wall for the last three days. There's no way in hell I'm picking it off. I'll remove my hair from a tub, but not someone else's.

I ate a chocolate truffle with Balsamic vinegar, and liked it. I saw bottled Tennent's for the first time since leaving Scotland. I also saw an old red phone box strategically placed outside a pub that was flying all the flags of the British Isles, plus, for some odd reason, Australia's.

I have been beaten by a cheeseburger. The sandwich in question was a Main Street Jr. at Ida Roselle's Restaurant in Fort Mill. It was juicy and delicious, but enormous. "This is huge," I told the waitress. "How big is the Main Street burger?" "About a pound," she told me, taking the unfinished half of my lunch away.

I have discovered that three days is about all I can take of road food before I begin to feel gross. The best meal of the trip came today at lunch, at Enzo's in Winnsboro. If you're ever in the neighborhood and want some good Italian or barbeque, stop by. Try the fried mozzarella with pesto and the chocolate chip cannoli.

I have learned how wonderful Hertz Neverlost can be, but that it's not infallible. I've learned shortcuts the system hasn't quite figured out yet, and driven past my destination just to see where the road went. I ended up with a bottle of cold peach cider because the strawberry signs I was following ended at a U-Pick place that only allows picking on the weekends.

I have nearly memorized the order of the songs on the mix CDs in my rental car. I can sing along - harmonies included - with a good portion of Avenue Q. This I do frequently, though I try to tone it down in heavy traffic and at stoplights.

I figure that God has a reason for making me drive home through spring monsoons. I just haven't guessed it yet.

I've discovered that a black Mazda 6 with New York plates is an empowering vehicle. People expect you to be an asshole and to drive like one, and so they let you into traffic without a fuss. Then again, maybe South Carolinians are just nice to outsiders like that.

Last, but not least: I now have two vacuum cleaners in the trunk of my rental car. As I was killing time before dinner tonight, I happened to pass by a Tuesday Morning, which just happened to have a Bissell vacuum at half price. I bought one, plus a French press, and called my mother to tell her about all the money I'd saved. She then had me go back and buy one for my sister, which meant another conversation with the scattered clerk whose ex-husband, the druggie, was only caught when he took money out of an out-of-the-way ATM five times, and whose Bissell works like a charm, and who took all day to put it together in the first place. She also sprays Lysol in her hair in lieu of hairspray.

I'm coming home tomorrow. Let the rain begin!