Exit 30

Southern Hostiltality


Sunset. The eastern shore of Lake Norman. Pink and azure and fire and rain and tall pines. Just like the full bodied ambrosia of gulfshore sunsets in Southwest Florida, these are their own blend of cloud bent and infused light and shadow. Red and blue and yellow and green. Sea Rays and Sea Planes and pony tailed slender blonds with tan legs that go all the way to here...and back again. The marina bar is starting to fill with crispy fried lake loungers squeezing in a post labor day at the beach. The gin has been put away...only between memorial day and labor day is gin consumed in proper society...which a damn waste of limes if you ask me...and is replaced by the mandatory cold beer and hot wings of a new football season.

Carolina Blue ain't a color...well it is, but it's really more a state of mind...mostly, an attitude. Unlike the fierce pride and suffering of Philly Phanatics or of the well traveled Steeler faithful spreading the black and gold gospel across the land, Carolina Blue is sheer snobbery. Just like Philly really isn't the "City of Brotherly Love," there ain't nothing regal or royal about the "Queen City." If it ain't Duke or Davidson or Carolina or App State...which, by the way was only recently discovered, it don't count and neither do you. The fact that this is a round ball state only makes it worse. Worse still is the fact that the state is over populated by a bunch a short skinny Carolina blue Polo wearin' white jagoff frat boy bankers and their...as it turns out, equally annoying, slender, tan, pony-tailed blond lacrosse moms/wives...whose legs still go from here to there and back again...damn waste of limes if you ask me...which they squeeze into their beer here.

San Diego Lite it should be called. Which is what this place really is when it comes to pro football. Oh yeah, they fill the stadium with fans and their garages with gear. They're still neophytes. The worst kind...those not weened on big time college football first before being handed the keys to a pro franchise. No tradition...no history 'cept a course for moonshine and importing strong young black men from Africa to work the fields...er I mean, shoot the three...which makes those short skinny Carolina blue polo wearin' white jagoff frat boy bankers with those slender pony-tailed blond wives a might nervous, iff'in ya ask me. A sorta disconnect, a distrust, a paranoia that is as thick and palpable today as it was 150 years ago. If you ain't from here or don't look like them there ain't nothin' southern about their hospitality. More like hostiltality.

Fuck 'em. Football is here. And as the sun sets here on the lake the promise of a new season is upon us. Joyous hope and giddy anticipation abound. Put away the pastels, let your hair down. Come on over to the side of righteousness and bring those limes...and those legs. Black and gold spoke here.

y'all come back now, ya hear.

oh yeah...the "Chin" is coming.