All his exes live in Ohio...

The car smelled like the person who had it before me spent the weekend smoking and farting in it, so I grimaced when I got inside, but I was grateful to have not had to wait a crazy long time at National to get the next car that arrived at the empty airport rental lot. There were 4 people in front of me when I walked up from the shuttle I took after grabbing my suitcase from baggage claim, and it was the first time I’ve ever seen Emerald Aisle bare of any vehicles.This was the first hiccup of the day, as my arrival to the airport in Dallas all the way through to landing in Raleigh was noticeably uneventful except for a Starbucks cup for Jenet instead of Gina. I’ve been called worse.

It was a beautiful if a little chilly day, and after cracking the windows to air out the ashtray farts, I drove the Nissan Altima that would be mine for the week to my hotel.  With the Digital Key already available, I went straight to my room to unpack and change in time for my first meeting.

I’ve been to Raleigh before but briefly and without having really looked around much, so I took the opportunity to appreciate all of the tall trees and rolling hills, and I found over the course of the next few days that the people I interacted with were as lovely as the scenery… except for the guy who got upset at me when the lanes didn’t line up properly across the intersection, confusing me about which one I should be in. This peach a couple car lengths behind me jerked his car, floored it, and drove right up to my bumper, riding it closely like I had just intentionally tried to ruin his day. As I was waving to say sorry, I noticed in my rearview mirror that he was yelling something and flipping me off; he was so close I could see how red his face was… Kind of dramatic, I thought, given that he wasn’t even that close behind me when it happened. While he didn’t know I’m from Texas, he could surely see the Ohio plates on my rental car. I tend to give people a pass for annoying traffic choices once I see out of state plates, but maybe this guy didn’t notice mine or maybe all of his exes live in Ohio.  Anyway, other than that guy, every other person I dealt with in any kind of way was just plain charming.

Well, there was that other guy…

I’m still trying to figure out how to describe this other guy that I didn’t see coming in my week of experiences.  I was at a Panera the next morning to meet up with a local colleague and a channel partner to discuss some business opportunities in the region. All I was having was coffee, and when I got my cup from the cashier and went over to the coffee station, the dark roast was bone dry.  Back to the register I went to wait in line to ask if there was more coming out soon or if I could get some from behind the counter.  From over my right shoulder, I heard a cheery male voice asking if I was going to order something. It was a strange question since I was in line… at a restaurant, but I turned to look at him with a smile on my face and said, warmly “Just some coffee. They’re out of the dark roast at the coffee station.” I thought that would be the end of it, so I turned back towards to the register when he continued, “Oh, so you’re a dark roast kind of person. You need the strong stuff,” and he cackled a little. He was a rather short fellow, with salt and pepper hair, dressed in business casual attire. With my heels on, I towered over him, so I made a point of not standing too closely to him (tall girl habits). I looked back at him again and smiled, “Yep, dark roast for me.” He continued to go on about the coffee, which, I’ll be honest, was getting weird.

My colleague walked up, so I took the opportunity to say something to him and hopefully be done with the discussion about the strength of my coffee for good.  As soon as there was a break in our conversation, the same man behind me pointed at me and then raised and lowered his index finger to indicate he was talking about all of me and said, “I’m liking this look. The black outfit, the glasses. Not everyone can pull off glasses like that.” Not having ever heard this before and wondering immediately if there are different regional preferences on glasses between Dallas and Raleigh I nodded, raised my eyebrows, and said, “A little on the nerdy side you think?” He continued, “They’re a bold choice.”  I may have actually starting belly laughing at this point, because I found it really comical - both that my glasses seemed like a bold choice to him and also that he actually just said those words to me, a complete stranger.  And right then I liked him. And as I am typing this, the word to describe him just came to me: quirky. And I love weird, quirky, unique people; I love the surprise they are to my day.  I love that I walk away trying to see their perspective and understand their choice of words. And I’m pretty sure there was a genuine compliment in his last statement.  My colleague overheard all of this, and as we sat down at our table, he laughed and said, “He was very interested in you, wasn’t he?” I reassured him that I was put on this earth to meet unusual people - it’s what I do. I don’t look for them; they just find me. Case in point.

I should point out that for 4 days I was getting in and out of a car that smelled like a cigarette ate eggs and then farted, and this was even less appealing when I’d get back in after eating.  That said, every thing I ate that whole week was amazing. And, again, the exchanges with people I had were as much souvenirs of my trip as the meals themselves. Other than one dinner, which I had with friends who drove over to visit with me, I went to dinner by myself. I’m the person that sits at the bar to eat while I read. So there I was sitting at the bar reading a book with my bold choice of glasses, fresh hair and make up at a place called The Rockford. It was a restaurant & bar located at the top of a steep set of stairs just off the street in between other businesses. I was paying attention to my book, but I was also listening to the conversations of the other people sitting at the bar. There was an older couple to my right who seemed like they were still in a new-ish relationship, a 30-something group of friends further down talking about work and other people they knew mutually. To my left was a couple in their late 20’s or so who seemed like they’d been together a long time. The bartender was dressed in sort of a gritty biker style, and when we made eye contact, I asked for a Malbec.  He waved his hand in the direction he turned to get a glass, and it was the most graceful gesture. I found myself watching him pour the glass of wine and bring it over to me, his head cocked to the side as he set it down. He had a beautiful flamboyance about him, and he was warm and human and… well, I just knew I liked him and would enjoy this dinner. I couldn’t help but notice what an eclectic scene this was - the diversity in this group of people, the very different conversations taking place. It felt like a place I would go to if I lived there.  After I finished eating an amazing dish of Blackened Salmon, Baked Kale, & Cheddar Grits, the bartender brought my check over to me saying, “Here you go, Gorg.”

As I was getting my card out to pay, the older new-ish couple to my right asked me what I was reading. I told them it was “a less cerebral choice than my usual, but it’s Slash. Written by, well, Slash. As in Guns-N-Roses. You know, the one with the long black curly hair and dark glasses playing the guitar often wearing a hat?” They feigned interest with a higher pitched, “Ahhh ok, well that seems interesting. Must be quite a read.”  Actually, it is. I resisted the urge to tell them that the only reason I’m reading it is because I had a major crush on this guy for my entire teenage life - like a heart-aching sort of crush. And the fact that he’s still alive and didn’t die from some pervasive STD or chemical overdose is intriguing to me. So I’m taking a break from my typical choices and reading this. Part of me wished I was reading something else at this moment, but it was what it was.

The last evening I was in Raleigh, I almost stayed in and ordered something for delivery. My feet were killing me, and I didn’t know if I could strap my heels back on for another trip out. I had surgery to remove some hardware from my left foot a few months ago, and I developed a cyst under the incision. My doctor keeps treating it and it returns immediately. So as I wait for another surgery to remove it and figure out what’s causing it, I’m very limited in the shoes I can wear. Nothing can touch the top of my foot. I bought a pair of flats for the trip that I thought would work, but I wore them during a visit to a customer’s factory that day, and they were rubbing the side of the cyst on my foot. I knew I could not put them back on.  I really wanted to try this place called Tazza Kitchen, so I made a reservation and then got myself dressed and ready. It was really cold out, so I left my mask on even after I walked out of the hotel. It felt good not to breathe in 20 degree air. I considered leaving it on in the car to muffle the smell of smoky farts, but I went ahead and took it off.  There was nothing particularly interesting about any of the people I associated with during this visit, but I did notice a fellow business lady wearing glasses and reading a few seats down from me: my soul sister.  After an amazing meal, I went to the restroom and reapplied my lip gloss, which, by the way, if you like a good plumping lip gloss then City Lips is worth a try. It’s so dang sticky that I swear I’ll never use it again, but then I find myself using it again. And again. And again. It just really works well, and also I love the high gloss. Sometimes I apply my own lip balm to the top of it to tone down the stickiness. Anywho…

The next day I was heading back to Dallas if I could depart before the winter weather moving in.  When I returned my stinky car, I was so tempted to blurt out “I don’t smoke, and those aren’t MY farts!”, but I didn’t. And I’ve regretted it ever since. I am glad to be rid of that car though, and bless the next person who got it.

It turned out my flight was delayed 30 minutes, and most of the seats near the gate were taken. So I stood nearby and found myself absentmindedly leaning back against the “wall” with all of my weight in very much an “ahhh” moment of relief that I was giving my poor back a break. The second my butt hit the wall, though, I immediately started flying towards the guy to the left of me who was on his phone. In nothing short of a Herculean effort with reflexes only a mother of 4 or more boys possesses, I pulled myself off the wall and forced myself back up to a standing position before having a very awkward and possibly painful collision. It was at that moment that I realized that I had just leaned back against the moving sidewalk railing, which moves along with the conveyor on the floor… all the way on my side of the railing too. Crisis averted. I have mad skills. Not a lot of gracefulness, but let’s face it, I’m a survivor.  A survivor who requires dark roast, mind you.

The rest of my trip was a breeze - I slept on the plane, I landed in Dallas to a sunny 60 degrees, my uber got me home in 30 minutes on a Friday, and no one told me I had weird glasses. Also no one called me Gorg, but also no one called me Jenet, so it’s a wash really. Mostly, I rejoined people who missed me and who I missed after a week spent in one of my new favorite cities: Raleigh, NC.

#RaleighNC 

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