In the last 24 hours my fascination with Charleston (USA, not New Zealand) has morphed into an emotion, which sports the same name as a Calvin Klein fragrance. Obsession. This domination of thought can be attributed to Olivia Rae’s blog, Everyday Musings. Seriously, the images on her blog are exquisite and I have spent hours delving through them, wishing that I had THAT much talent.
My love for Charleston was further roused by the knowledge that one could encounter dolphins. In the ocean. You know, in case some of you were a little confused about the habitat niche of dolphins.
Given this, I’ve decided that once I’ve had my fill of New Orleans, I am to spend some time in Charleston, before heading to NYC. I’d originally decided to take a train from New Orleans to New York (Amtrak Crescent line, 31 hours), with the possibility of stopping off in Washington DC. I’m reconsidering this idea. You see, it appears that some of the places I’d like frequent in Charleston are rather “remote”, and inaccessible by public transport. The only logical conclusion is to rent a car. Possibility of disaster = exponentially large.
Seriously. They drive on a completely different side of the road there. I have enough trouble driving, without any extra complications thrown my way. Remember that time I drove into a wall? Of a shopping mall. Or that time I accidentally pinned a car guard between two cars. Twice. And then I gave him R10 as hush money. Yeah well, Friday night I drove into the kerb. Of a road. Not over, but into the kerb. Of a road. Sadly, I was not under the influence of mind-altering drugs. I don’t even have that as an excuse. *Hangs her head in shame*.
Of course, I knew I’d royally fucked-up when my car immediately switched off. It then proceeded to make that sweet grating sound when I tried to reverse my car away from the curb. I’m getting all too familiar with that sweet grating sound that metal makes when comes into contact with concrete.
And let’s not forget my talent for getting lost. I’m the type of girl, who’d get lost in a parking lot. No seriously, I once spent five minutes driving around the parking lot of Mad Phoenix’s apartment complex, because I was incapable of finding the exit.
This US trip is bound to be fun.