Ah, first world problems

Waiting for our Kickin' Chicken.

As our flight this morning was at 10:30am, we were able to take public transit for once.  Man that works like a hot damn!  And it cost us $5.50, versus the usual $50, and it was seamless.

Our flight to Chicago was fine and we made our connection to Charleston relatively easily, except our luggage didn't make the cut.  This is the THIRD TIME.  God I hate O'Hare.  Plus: we were on the last flight out of Chicago, so our stuff won't get her until after noon tomorrow.

Whatever.  The bigger concern was the tropical storm Ana, which we were going to be flying into on a little Bombardier.  Seriously: I made my peace before that little plane took off, but it was a non-issue, thankfully (save for the aforementioned lost luggage).

It was probably around 9:30 or 10:00 before we got to the hotel and then tried to go out for a bite to eat since for us it was really dinner time, but shit closes down at 11pm in Charleston, apparently.  Add to that, everything seemed to be sold out and there were reams and reams of really well dressed young drunken people milling and spilling into the streets.  We thought maybe graduation?  But we put that thought aside as we needed to find a place to eat since things close faster here than a nun's legs.  With my fun issues with blood sugar I was actually starting to panic since we didn't have any food with us and so we came across a Walgreen's and I wanted to go there just to pick up some sundries to tide us over.

Long story somewhat shorter, the drunken revelry going on is called Alumni Weekend, and it's where people that graduated from Charleston College (and maybe other local institutions) come back to celebrate.  Apparently you can by tickets which enable you to eat and drink in an unlimited capacity from 7 until 10pm.  I have never experienced what college life in the US might be like until tonight.  Gorgeous men and women (this is a moneyed area) dressed to kill, staggering down cantilevered sidewalks, howling at the moon, carrying wilted flowers, beneath the staid palms on a humid, sultry night: it was something to behold.

A courtyard restaurant we can't afford.

We eventually found a place open until 1am called the Kickin' Chicken.  I swear to god.  We took it because we had no other viable options, but it had a bit of a Philly feel with the exposed (original) brick walls and the beautiful hammered tin ceiling.  The music was great, and our waitress very kindly explained to us the inebriated exhibition that was unfolding outside (and then inside).  Michael had an amazing green chili burger and I had a wedge salad with chicken, bacon and blue cheese (to say there were no vegetarian options would be putting it mildly). 

It was nice to chill out a bit and people watch.  Given that most places were shut down, more than a few half-trashed graduates and alumni came in to pound down a few and then attempt to walk out in a straight line.  I've never lived on campus, but this was really something to behold.  And again - the women?  Dressed to the nines.  Amazing bodies and freakishly attractive.  Given I didn't have a change of clothes I felt more than a little disheveled in my jeans and CBC shirt, especially having traveled for the duration of the day.

Anyways - the Kickin' Chicken?  Terrible name, but it kicks the ass of most places on the North Shore on any given day.  But hey, Vancouver's a world class city, right?

Basically just glad we made all our connections and that Ana hasn't been a major factor thus for.  

Now, as it is apparently closing in on 2am Charleston time, I shall to bed.