Thursday, October 17, 2013

Everything’s bigger. That’s the refrain I’ve heard for the Lone Star state, and when the passenger to my right tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a big fire on the ground, less than a quarter mile from our fast-landing plane, I started to believe the hype. Once on the road, encased in–what else–an SUV, the maps I printed from Google were immediately rendered useless. I got extra lost, stopped for directions four, five times to no avail in what must’ve been Little Mexico, followed a kindly middle-aged woman with broken English for about 20 minutes in a large circle, and then finally, finally muddled my way to the hotel.

It was an auspicious start to a packed trip. There were busy moments, with 11 apartment communities toured, bank accounts opened, serious mileage clocked. There were good moments, two in particular: a visit to the Chief and Earth Chick’s serene, palatial zero-emission house. A fly-on-the-wall experience when I walked into Lady Cheerington and King Calm’s coffee shop on the sly, stood in line, and marveled as I watched them deal with the Sunday bustle. It was a rare instance when you knew there were hellos and years of catching up, right around the bend, but for a minute or two, you could soak in the natural contours of a scene completely undisturbed by you.

And there were uncertain moments, too. I used to think I was a ‘burbs guy, though I’m not so sure now, after beholding the sprawl as far as the eye could see. I never imagined this many Fuddruckers could exist in a single city, you know? There were three-laned service roads and–I shit you not–an eight-laned four-way stop. Everything’s bigger, indeed. But I sure will miss the green in Charlotte. Is this the right move? I hope so. You make your choices–and then you make your peace with those choices.