Charleston Day One

We left right after I got off work. I always feel like I miss out on the 'getting ready to go' part of the trip when I'm the only one at work. I can pack a car trunk like an 80s kid playing Tetris, but any excuse to leave work early— especially after a 3-day weekend, about to start a 6-day weekend, after working 1 day. Is there a limit to how many days you can add to a weekend— after a week? Can you have an 8-day weekend?

It was 8 hours to Charleston in a rental car. Would you believe that they actually had the car we booked-- me neither. They obviously didn't have the car. The 4 of us are on our way to Charleston, North— South Carolina. My wife loves driving, and I love her not telling me my driving makes her sick. I had to find the best way to sit, so it looked like I was awake. The hardest part was commenting on the podcast. "That's crazy. *Yawns*." Only works so many times.

We arrived at our hotel suite. We were tagalongs on this part of the trip, so we were sleeping on the pancake— pull-out mattress. My back! Was it too early for a drink? Coffee 'til Craft Beer, I guess. We went to our first breakfast choice. This is not a 'second breakfast— we're hobbits joke. This is a 'Yelp reservations are pointless' joke. We went through all the trouble of booking a table, being on time, and making our presence known, like functioning members of society. Then they had the nerve to tell us it was a 20-minute wait. Time for our second breakfast choice.

"Can I get a large iced coffee?"

I looked at the small coffee handed to me. "What is this? Coffee for ants," I thought as I returned my empty cup for a refill.

We ordered three items from the biscuit place. We received a bag with one of those items. We found the nearest pseudo-table and start grubbing. Who am I kidding— it's a garbage can. It was raining, but we had an awning. I confidently shout, "Rain has never stopped us before!"

The narrator's voice echoes from the clouds: "Little did he know. Rain would stop them today." We canceled most of our sight-seeing adventures— oh no, anyway. We still got to look at a couple of things. I looked like a bodyguard holding an umbrella over my wife's head while she took photos. It was her turn to choose the activities. I knew what was coming next. "What's a socially acceptable time to drink around here anyway?" I asked aloud.

"It's noon," my wife responded, “We checked." All the breweries open at noon.

The first actual stop on this trip— as in drinking-related— is Tradesmen Brewing. The decor is garage mechanic chic. What does chic mean? Can you have a decor that doesn't end in chic? We have to kill some time here while we wait for our Airbnb to let us check in. Since we had some time, I got to break the one beer per stop rule. I got a flight. It included a stout and a hefeweizen. It also had Yeast Project 1 and 3.; they were out of 2 and 4. These were the same beer but made with 4 different yeasts. You wouldn't believe how different the Yeast Projects tasted. One was citrusy, and the other tasted like bubblegum.

After "too much beer for one-stop," it was time to ride the buzz to the Airbnb check-in. The driveway was just narrow enough to get the rental car parked. This meant it was not wide enough for my love handles to get out of the car. The place was beautiful, wonderfully clean, and I'm guessing decorated in some sort of chic. We dropped stuff off and went to our next brewery. I was still feeling the buzz. I wish we had some rules to guide us on how much to drink at each stop.

The next brewery was Edmund's Oast— they had snacks! I've already had a few drinks, so I was starting to get snacky. They had wings and egg rolls. It doesn't sound quite right, but the taste disagrees. I tried to get another batch, but I was told we're eating dinner soon. What does that have to do with anything? This is for pleasure, not sustenance!

Also, their bathroom gets an honorable mention. A clean bathroom is the unsung hero of the brewery crawl. They even had footles— definitely not what they're called— foot handles that you can use to open the door. No hand contact. The faucets were automatic, and I didn't even have to pretend I was a mime or a Tai-Chi master trying to turn them on.

Beer wise, we had the porter and their IPA. Then my wife saw some pink drink— the hunt was on. It was my duty as a husband to not be embarrassed by ordering this drink.

"Can I get whatever the pink drink is— it's for my wife!" Nailed it.

"Do you mean the #139 Dry Rose' Cider by Wolffer Estate Vineyard?"

"Yes, I sure do."

We left to meet more members of our party. We split into two groups to cover more ground. One to return the rental car and one to scope out the next bar. Dibs on the bar! Well, it was kinda far away— I might need to stop for a drink. My team and I stopped at a gin bar for a change of pace. They had beer too! I was afraid to drink gin. I ordered a local IPA from Fatty's Beer Works. A teammate ordered a gin drink called "deviled eggs." I know it must have gin, but I wonder what it's mixed— it's an appetizer. It's gonna suck for him when I retell this story 100 times. The car rental team was already at the next bar. What was our job again? We met them at 5church.

We went to dinner at a place called Poogan's Porch. I had questions concerning the local beer scene prepped in advance, so I could impress the server. My wife leaned in and told me to stop annoying the server. He was very knowledgeable and happily answered all my questions. I ordered the duck because complaining about duck is one of my favorite pastimes— it's hard to cook. I can't complain this time.

After dinner, I pitched my concern for the general well-being of the group. We didn't have any at-home beer. We went shopping, and I split us up into two teams since it worked so well last time. Wait-- how did we end up with 2 different mango beers? Who's in charge here— never mind, that's not important. We made it home with three 12-packs— two are mango. Did anyone grab any pink drinks?