The observer effect
By Ajax Carpenter
By Ajax Carpenter
Come
one, come all! Come on down, y’all!
Welcome to the
Holy City™.
We have
restaurants and ghost tours. How about one of those carriage rides; you want
one? Oh, and don’t you worry; we have bars galore.
We’ve got
everything this famous town is known for. Of course, there are the palmetto
trees, sweetgrass basket-weavers, museums, and churches.
Welcome to this
sleepy little place, off in a crook of this vast expanse of a country, down
where time doesn’t pass. Look at Rainbow Row! Look at the Calhoun Mansion!
Ain’t everything grand?! Ain’t everything just so historic!?!
Thank God for the
Board of Architectural Review, the mayor and Charleston City Council, who, lo
these many years, have protected our skyline and the character of the city.
Thank God monstrous hotels and condos and the ever present cranes aren’t blighting
our postcards and pictures and just general quality of life. Just focus down
low, down where the restrictions on doing any work on any building whatsoever
make it so cost-prohibitive that all but the ludicrously wealthy got fed up
long ago and said “It might be nice to live out on John’s Island; maybe
Wadmalaw, even.”
Don’t mind the
three-hundred-dollars-per-thirty-seconds* parking meters that are monitored
twenty-five-hours-a-day*, or the potholes, flooding and legendarily bad
drivers. Bring your car. Join the fray. Come to get away from it all, but, if
you get homesick for back where you’re from, where it’s not so sleepy and time
moves so fast, jump in your car and get that slice of Up North or From Off. We
have all the traffic you can handle.
If that doesn’t
remind you of home, just wait; you’re gonna love the prices. We’re trying to
get them up to Manhattan levels for you. It embarrasses us that you’re not able
to pay $17* for a bland margarita.
Do you like our
districts? We learned a thing or two from the Florida theme parks. Disney’s
Magic Kingdom has TomorrowLand, AdventureLand and Main Street USA; we have
South of Broad, the French Quarter, and Wraggborough. Think of the horse-drawn
carriages like they’re our monorail.
Spill off the
sidewalks. Walk in the streets. The cars
aren’t really supposed to be there any way. They’ll stop. They’ll wait.
Ask the questions.
You know you want to. All of y’all do. Titter as you say aloud: What’s a
Huguenot? (Ha!) What is a grit? (Hilarious!)
We want you! You’re
hardy folk. Way back when we only had 847 million visitors a year* (instead of
the current annual count of 74 Trillion*), they’d peter out and leave us be for
the real hot of summer. But not you! 143 °* and 138%* humidity for July and
August, and still y’all pour in here. Charleston can count on death, taxes, roaches
the size of compact cars and this relentless parade of “treasured guests.” If
you're sweltering, might I suggest a refreshing bland margarita?
Rarer than a
ghost, you might just see a local. They’ll be one of the slightly befuddled
older folks (always older; ever older), polite if you ask them a question,
helpful, of course; but often with a consternated look as though they’re still
trying to figure out what happened.
Downtown used to
be full of locals. Children played in the streets. The houses had lights on at
night because folks actually lived in them (they weren’t just trophy vacation
homes back then). They worked and shopped there and played bridge and had book
clubs and threw cocktail parties and actually attended all these churches.
Look at all the contractors. There are more of those than
locals. That’s for sure.
But enough about
them. That’s not why you’re here. You’re here for the nightlife and the
beaches. Get a sunburn and then get to Upper King. Mill about. Spend your
money. We’d prefer it if you wouldn’t drink and drive, or shout and fight, but
you be you.
Try not to notice
the homeless folk that have materialized in the past couple of years, sitting
heads down, arms outstretched. But, if you do, don’t they add a little extra
flavor?
That guy
complaining that everything has changed? Don't mind him. He’s not a local even
though he insists he is. That's Gary. He moved here from Dayton three years
ago. Don't know which of the guys complaining is Gary? Don't worry. They're all
Gary.
Sure, this place
isn't what it used to be. It’s not a place very many real people live anymore.
Any old place can be that. It’s better!
It’s CharlestonWORLD: the Premier Adult
Museum, Shopping and Restaurant Park.
Don’t you like
this?! Isn’t it enchanting?! Spend and enjoy! Tell your friends and family!
Bring them! Bring them ALL!
Why leave? You
never have to leave. We can just make more Charleston, expand it up and out.
Absorb the other townships and islands. Stack and build. Stack and build.
Come and see.
Come and see.
Come and see.
Come and see!
*Numbers are
estimates, only, but you never can tell when satire will morph into reality.
