Thursday, September 14
7:30 a.m. Wolfed a Newman's Own "O," an Oreo-like cookie, while stressing over last touches on freelance story on maintaining a healthy weight. Maintaining many "Oreos" on a plate was a necessity for me during the writing of said story. I like the smell of chocolate-coated irony in the morning.
10:30 a.m. Shooing all thoughts of Morgan Spurlock away, or so I thought, at La Guardia I ordered a sausage and egg biscuit from McDonald's. The first bite was soggy yet flavorful, and the sausage reminded me of the Saturday morning fast food syrup-coated pancake and sausage breakfasts of my youth. A few bites later, and getting more disgusted by the minute, I began to wonder from what exactly that extra crispy crunch of the sandwich sprung. Then, Morgan Spurlock apparated in front of me. I looked around to see if I was dreaming. Everyone else in the airport continued reading their papers and talking on their cells, but they were New Yorkers, aka primed to ignore the outrageous. With Morgan at my side, I declared aloud that I’d never eat McD’s again (not even a chocolate sundae), and tossed the remnants of my food into the trash as I walked back to the food court for a Luna bar and a Volvic. I also got Jon a German Chocolate Cake lollipop.
3:00 p.m. Having missed my connection from Charlotte to Charleston (to my dismay, Morgan opted to stay in New York), I sidled up to a bar stool and ordered a spicy Bloody Mary. Bloody hell, I thought, if I am going to have to spend yet another precious vacation day stuck in the airport, I might as well enjoy myself. Damn terrorists. I ate my leftover plane pretzels as extra consolation. Then I explored the Charlotte airport. Wonder of wonders, not only does it have rocking chairs, a business center, a live piano player, cheeky moving sidewalks, and nice light, it also has Brookwood Farms BBQ, Rocky Mountain Fudge, the Yadkin Valley Wine Bar, and Yovana, some new kind of yogurt shop from the folks at TCBY. I left Jon a gleeful message about the German Chocolate covered apples at the fudge shop and sampled the peanut butter fudge.
6:30 p.m. All week I'd been looking forward to dinner with my dad at G&M upon my arrival in Charleston. I would have had a glass of sauvignon blanc, the best gazpacho in my world, and a toasted croissant smothered in goat cheese. I've been ordering the latter two there since I was in high school. I blame the damn terrorists for instead forcing me to order a Bean Burrito and a 7-Layer Burrito at Taco Bell. As I did, I silently apologized once more to Morgan. But I didn't feel too bad: I didn't want to risk missing one moment of 36 Views, the lovely, unusual play that's currently in production at Charleston's Pure Theatre, which was directed by one BFF, Dana, and stars another, Matt.
12:00 a.m. Matt and I threw what little caution was left to the culinary wind, and split a double order of smothered and diced hash browns and nursed decafs at Waffle House.
Despite my early morning, bad food, late flight, and missing luggage, it was good to be home.
Coming up in Part Deux: Gazpacho and croissants aren't the only things that take me back to high school. Find out what I ate at my 10-year high school reunion.