Why is the Winston-Salem paper so very much better than the Greensboro paper, even though Greensboro’s the bigger city? I guess it’s sort of like San Jose’s paper being so much better than either of San Francisco’s, even though SF is the “dominant” city.

I visited some friends at Greensboro’s brand new Kinko’s today. I saw Anne and Jeana and Tim, all of whom I knew from my years working at the old Greensboro store. And I saw Maggie, who I know from San Francisco (long story there…) Greensboro’s now a “two ways to office” town. Imagine.

Tonight, I hit “Big Band Night” at a local club with Mom and Dad. I was a little apprehensive about this, but it turned out to be fairly interesting. Apparently, it happens the first Monday of every month. There’s an orchestra and food. The crowd was pretty much 60-plus, but they were a pretty lively bunch. It was most definitely not a depressing “old folks night”.

Of course, most people who know me well are aware that, despite my rock and roll exterior, I have a certain affinity for this music, and I didn’t hear a single song I didn’t recognize. It was sort of nice, too, talking with people outside my normal age bracket, and watching my aunt and her new beau take to the floor. Mom and Dad were out there a few times too.

I was impressed with one couple in particular. The wife had emphysema and carried a rolling oxygen cannister. I imagine that even walking does not come easy to this lady, but she loves to dance, and two or three times, she rolled that tank right out on the floor and did all she could. You have to admire that.

Stopped by the Border’s on High Point Road on the way home. It’s kinda cruisy there late in the evening…

 

Charlotte has definitely grown. We saw a good bit of it today after a most incredible gumbo at the Bayou Kitchen. There’s construction everywhere and a new freeway has completely obliterated one of my favorite old strips (as well as one of my former homes). A second 70-story phallic symbol is about to be built downtown, the next round in the Bank of America vs. First Union “mine’s bigger than yours” competition. Walgreen’s is back in town after about a 50-year absence.

We drove by my old apartments and my old store. The apartments look pretty much the same, but my old surf/skate shop is now somebody’s middle-eastern market. The massive mall across the street is on the skids; Charlotte has finally hit that point where its postwar suburbs are becoming its inner city.

Took the train back to Greensboro. Travelling by rail absolutely rules. If I could manage never to fly again, I’d be truly happy.

 

Ice, ice, baby. Ice all day. We didn’t get out much. We definitely didn’t risk Atlanta. I actually got to watch the TV stations I do web sites for. Big breakfast at home. Big dinner at Gus’ Sir Beef (the name doesn’t really fit). We braved the rapidly thawing ice to hit the nightlife again a little after 11.

The Charlotte bars seem a lot more pleasant than I remember them, although it could be the “change of scenery” factor. Oleen’s was as odd as ever. Chaser’s was a tad creepy, with a really small crowd, really flooded bathrooms, and a bartender who resembled a prepubescent junkie. Guess it’s feeling the competition from the new bar across the street. The Masquerade features strippers too and is without flooded bathrooms.

Had a great time at the always “hit or miss” Brass Rail, drinking cheap, playing “Shiny Shiny” on the jukebox, and getting cruised by a couple (only one of whom I was interested in). Then there was this strange game of “surrogate strip pool” in the back. As I have respect for the Brass Rail’s liquor license, I’ll skip the details.

All in all, though, it’s annoying as hell bar-hopping in Charlotte. That southern queer bar tradition of “always a cover” can easily result in spending more at the door than at the actual bar.

Late night food at Athens. I love Athens. I loved it even more when I only lived a block away.

Off to Charlotte this morning, as Mom and Dad dropped me off with my friend Duncan. Mom and Dad like Duncan, and I sometimes think they’re as happy to see him as I am.

After a little time in Charlotte, where I lived through 1986, 1987, 1988, and 1989, eating great food, hanging around in Duncan’s great (and cheap by SF standards) house, and hitting a few bars which were less objectionable than I remembered, I thought briefly that living here again might not be so bad. Fortunately, I remembered some of the reasons I left, however, and came back to my senses.

 

Charlotte is perhaps the symbol of the “new south”: rapidly urbanizing and becoming more cosmopolitan and diverse. However, the Republican banker mentality is just as strong, as is the oppressive religious sentiment. The current gag in SF surrounds the ubiquitous “WWJD” (“What would Jesus do?”) stickers and buttons around the new Bank of America headquarters in Charlotte. I’m not sure how much of this is true and how much is sour grapes from a city pissed off about losing one of its major institutions, but I did catch a “WWJD” bumper sticker or two.

The original plan called for a side trip to Atlanta, but an ice storm made this unwise, so we sample Charlotte nightlife, ate some really great food, and watched “Rock and Roll Jeopardy”. and I installed an revamped web site at one of the TV stations I work for, thus makig the whole trip deductible. All in all, not a bad trip.