After waking up sometime after noon, I managed to get on the road around 2. I think I should have slept later, and maybe stayed another day recuperating. I hate driving at night, and I hate driving with somewhere to be, and I hate driving hung over. All of which I was that day.
It was worth it, though. I got to Charleston just before 9, and so I was able to make it into the 9:30 ghost tour of the historic downtown. I think I'm in love with our guide. He wore a black leather jacket and little yellowed skulls were hanging from his lanyard, and he was the best storyteller ever. At one point he actually threw himself to the ground, writhing, while describing a headless, legless, armless ghost of a confederate soldier. And such use of dramatic pauses!
I was grinning and laughing the whole way (discretely!), but his patter really did its job. When walking back to my car at the end of the night, I had the distinct feeling that if I looked in the right window, if I twirled around at precisely the right moment, something unnatural would be there.
Nothing was there, of course, but that didn't stop me from twirling along like a fool.
I returned the next morning to take a few pictures, then it was on down south to Savannah. Except I still haven't reached Savannah. I've been distracted, by ruined churches and gullah museums, by natural preserves, and gators! I spent last night in Hilton Head (golf courses and shopping centers, all hidden coyly by the forest), then backtracked to Beaufort and St. Helena Island, on some information stolen from books in Barnes and Noble. If you sit there and read them, writing everything you need down, you don't have to buy the damn things! Sock it to the corporate man.
It's almost one now, and I am still not sure if I'll make it to Savannah today. The distance, for those not in the know, is regularly less than 2 hours. And I think I am stretching it to 3 days. A new personal best!
Thanks to billy, for showing me that I too am DeeDee Ramone at heart.