Last Sunday (October 8th), the Countess and I did some exploring – the temperature was more moderate and we have things fixed up and we’re ready to enjoy being with each other.
First, we went to the Jewish Community Center for their food truck festival. Three food trucks showed up – one that sold grilled cheese sandwiches for $6, one that sold vegetarian Mediterranean dishes, and one that sold vegetarian wraps. There was also a beer vendor who probably didn’t sell a single beer.
We then wandered down to a small town named Waxhaw – SouthEast of Charlotte. One of my college neighbors was from there, and I had not ever been there. It is a very typical small NC town. The railroad tracks running through the middle with main street running along the tracks. In the old days, local farmers would gather to buy supplies and send their products out to the world. Nearby is JAARS, an organization that flies missionaries into remote airstrips around the world to translate the Bible into every language in the world.
Even though it was Sunday, there was a store open that sold “provisions” and operated a restaurant.
We needed a snack more than a meal, so we ducked in. I asked for the Double Chocolate Cookie that had a sign up in the display. Sorry, all out. Another customer wanted decaf coffee. So sorry. Local eggs were available for a mere $5 a dozen. The other provisions were similarly bargain priced.
So we settled on an almond cookie and I was hoping for chocolate milk. Countess was able to only procure regular milk. The milk came with a caution to be sure to shake it first, which immediately struck me as odd. It was pasteurized and homogenized “white” milk. Why would we be told that? I looked and the sell by date was October 3rd.
Countess took it back to get another bottle, and was told the boss was fixing the problem. We waited. We were told the boss was still fixing the problem. How? Running over to the 7-11? This was “local milk” after all (actually it was from a small dairy in Hillsborough, NC, located on the other side of NC, about a three-hour drive)
After waiting, and with most of the cookie gone, still no milk. Countess got the attention of an employee who explained the boss was still working on it. I asked what exactly that meant. Back in New York, we witnessed the proprietor of the restaurant where we were staying (and left in disgust) tell customers that the (legitimate) complaints with their food would be handled by the manager who never arrived. It was a stalling tactic, but she doesn’t know Countess. It turned out that all of the milk was expired. They eventually offered a refund and suggested I could hobble up to the counter to get it. The woman eventually walked over and gave us the money back.
In the hallway were “vintage” mirrors for sale. Countess’s dad sold furniture and he trained his daughter well. She reaching behind, and the “vintage” mirrors had a plastic frame. Next door was an antique store, also open on Sunday. I concluded the target customer base for the stores is rich Yankees who live in Tega Cay with more money than sense. I expected at any moment for Mr Haney and Arnold Ziffel to walk in.