Check this out to see what I mean: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/map/sc.html
Once in South Carolina, I found myself in peach country – apparently the belt between Spartanburg and Gaffney is a major Peach belt.
The stands are everywhere, but sadly, I didn’t have time to stop and put my friend Suz’s theory to the test – that there’s nothing like a Southern Peach. And no, I’m not talking about a round, peachy tush!
(Note: sorry for the lack of photos in this installment, I only had one day to get a lot accomplished)
Let's backtrack -- The night I arrived did NOT start off well. After being delayed in Miami because of thunderstorms in Columbia, NC (where I needed to make my connection), I landed really late in Greenville/Spartanburg. The highways are not lit whatsoever which is tough on a stranger to the area. Fortunately, I found my hotel fairly effortlessly – which was a two-level open concept motel (you know the kind that you always keep your curtains drawn tight because they face onto the balcony that winds around each level and anyone and their mother can look right in and see what you’re up to). And it might have been the build up of emotions from my travels so far, or fatigue catching up to me, but by the time I had lugged my bags through the “courtyard” and up a flight of steep, dirty stairs (while being watched by two older men with bellies who had just finished a swim and were standing around) and into my room, I burst into tears. It was downright dingy. Stained carpet, a huge fly buzzing about that I tried to chase out, and when I turned on the taps in the shower, they sputtered out brown liquid first. So, I stayed in a place like this TWICE before (once in Oklahoma and once in Boston, believe it or not) and each time, you don’t even want to get into bed. But somehow you can laugh about digs like this when you’re with someone (a friend, or a film crew) which had been the case prior. But this time, it was just me, and my overactive imagination, wondering what the grimy dudes were plotting…. I made sure all of my bags were zippered in tight not to let god-knows-what could be living in that room sneak into them when the lights were out and wrapped myself tightly in the seemingly white clean sheet so as not to have any of those visitors myself….and went to bed.
The next morning, I got up, wandered down to breakfast, and grabbed a packet of Quaker Instant Grits. I’ve always been curious about grits so I decided to conduct my experiment a little later.
My first stop – a well renowned plastic surgeon who creates and customizes bootys. He was a man about my father’s age who instantly made me feel warm and at home. Anna, the young woman who was a researcher on this documentary for a bit, had already given me the heads up that he was a great resource. And, get this, he had already been a part of a British documentary on the booty!!! Called, “Bootylicious” – of course! Oh those crazy Brits! Leave it to them to get on board with a trend before the rest.
Back to the doc. What’s amazing about this doctor is he’s done an extensive collection of statistics on the famous ideal “hip to waist” ratio – and has found a magic number over CENTURIES that proves to be the biological ideal (and happens to look really good too!) I don’t have any experience with plastic surgeons, and I’m not sure what I was expecting him to be like, but his character surprised me just the same. Open, chatty, helpful…
We chatted at length, and I started to think AGAIN how fascinated I was with booty augmentation and it’s rising numbers despite the fact that technically a woman that needs surgery to give her a booty isn’t truly CELEBRATING the booty – just coveting it. I spent my teenage years in an environment where boob jobs (and the odd nose job) were the only procedures a girl would ever lust for. And suddenly, girls are paying to have what I’ve had all my life!
Just as I was walking out to my car, I got a call from his secretary asking if I wanted to come on back – the doctor was in with a post-booty-op patient who was willing to talk to me. OH MY GOD! I high tailed it back to the office and escorted into a room where I met a girl from Atlanta who was getting a check up. She unabashedly dropped her smock and stood there, completely naked, and turned to show off what was a quite amazing shelf-like butt, and a few small marks from where the incisions were. The doctor pulled up the before pictures – AMAZING! Now I understand why women are doing this surgery. She had pulled some fat from her waist and added it to her booty giving her a great hourglass. Again, I think back to high school where boobs were where it was at and it was sooo common for a girl to say she’d buy some when she was older. Times are a changing, my friends!
Next stop – a fledgling jeans company run by a mother-and-daughter team in Greenville. Beija Flor means hummingbird in Portuguese I learned. The mom married a Brazillian man when he was studying at USC and had fallen in love with the culture….and products! Brazillians are the leaders in jeans manufacturing and cutting edge trends and styles. So these women are trying something new. Bringing great fitting cuts and styles to Southern Women through a “Jeans Party Network” – if you’re thinking of the Tupperware parties your mom may have dragged you to as a kid, you’re not alone. But, their angle makes sense. They take out the terrible lighting of dressing rooms, the saleswomen that check you out and insist they offer you an opinion on each pair….and arrange parties where a bunch of friend have them over, and over food, drinks and good conversation, they present their jeans and encourage everyone to try on the different styles, get opinions and have fun! And who doesn’t want to route for a family run business!
I went to a party – a ground of middle aged Southern Women – which was a real treat for me. And I can see how this company is going to be a great success (fingers crossed). I only lasted a couple of hours ,but already, several women had picked up great jeans that they were excited about and one already was trying to set up a birthday party for her daughter – now THERE”S an idea!
I had to jet early because I was invited to dinner with Dr. Robert’s family. Southern hospitality is not just a myth and I speak from experience. I was welcomed into their home and treated to a lovely evening of dinner and conversation – and a powerpoint presentation on the cultural phenomenon that is the booty!
Here’s where my trip got scary. It was time to head out again and the Dr. offered to let me follow him in my car out to the main road (I had had a really hard time finding the place – dark, streets SUPER winding and tiny street signs). At first I resisted and asked for detailed directions. But he insisted. As we pulled away, I quickly realized that my tire was flat. I frantically tried to high beam him, slow down extremely so he’d notice I’d fallen back and finally, when I could hear that the back tire was completely flat, I pulled over. Scary scary – I thought. Here I am in the middle of nowhere. No lights, late at night, and the tire was completely gone. First flat tire in my life – and go figure, it had to happen in a strange place and in a rental car!
It was like an omen that he accompanied me on this evening. He came back and offered to drive the car back to my hotel for me, while I climbed into his NAVIGATOR. Literally, I had to CLIMB into it (can you tell my experience with luxury vehicles is limited?) The night got more frustrating after that – but at least I was safe and back at the hotel. Lesson learned: don’t be so stuborrn and let people help you when they offer! Who knows how the night would have turned out otherwise. I wouldn’t even have known where to tell AAA to come as I didn’t know where I was!
Next morning, I had to drive to the airport with a spare on the rear tire…. In the pouring rain…. On highways that I forgot to mention are PACKED with huge trucks and people who drive way too fast (Guess it’s a southern thing). They are polite but FAST. So I put my hazards on, kept to a snail’s pace and made it to the airport. After trying to force extra stuff into my carry-on (I was now a few pounds over after a brief shopping blitz at the Bath and Body Works outlet – did I forget to tell you about that?)…and going through security which made me throw out my CONCEALER and lip gloss which had made it through THREE major security checks already I was on my way home. I was ready for a brief stint of familiar faces and surroundings….
So, on the surface, Greenville looks like nothing more than Waffle Houses and Peach stands… but I’m happy I got to taste a good portion of that Southern Hospitality….even though I didn’t get to try Southern Style Fried Chicken or boiled peanuts (which seem to be a local specialty).
It was time to move on....
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