by Brad

March 29, 2007

THAT SURE AS HELL WASN'T IN THE BROCHURE

So I'll meet you at the bottom if there really is one
They always told me when you hit it you'll know it
But I've been falling so long it's like gravity's gone and I'm just floating

I've never lived in a big city. A good chunk of my life was spent in Greensboro, N.C., a good-size city with roughly 250,000 people, but not what I would call a big city. During my first go at college, friends often told me I had a big-city attitude and that I should live in New York, Los Angeles or San Francisco. They never elaborated, so I  never followed their advice.

Greensboro did OK by me. After all, had I gone big-city, I might not
have ever met Mr. Surf Report, my fellow coworker--and occasional
drinking buddy--during my days at the record store. I'm sure there are other highlights to my days in Greensboro, but I'm not George Bailey looking into the abyss of a river and you good people surely aren't my Clarence. Besides, I have a feeling that you have no wings to give out.

I went in the opposite direction and now I live in a town that's almost 15,000 strong. It was love that brought me here. That, and the fact that my future wife had a 105-pound--and growing--black lab and my cozy two-bedroom apartment didn't take kindly to the canines.

When I told Mr. Surf Report that I was moving and buying a house near what's considered the downtown area, he asked me if there were any cool bars or coffee shops nearby. My future wife (let's call her Wendy) and I drove by our purchase one day before the move-in date and as we drove away, I spied a nearby establishment called Richard's Meats And Things. I sure as hell wasn't in Greensboro anymore.

Wendy assured me it was a butcher shop. In addition to selling meat,
Richard's allegedly will take your kill (nonhuman) and prepare it in any way, shape or form you want it. I'm not a hunter so I assume the good people of Richard's will hack up Bambi into as many pieces as you desire. Of course, I thought a true hunter took great pride in cleaning his/her kill.

So the cool bars and coffee shops were out.

I've never set foot inside this Richard's Meats and Things. There's still an uneasy feeling about that place within me and I worry if I step in, I will never see daylight again. Richard is probably some kindly-looking old man (I'm picturing character actor Dub Taylor, god rest his soul) who will charm all the locals and they will turn a blind eye. However, if a big-city (Greensboro is big compared to this place) person like me walks into the establishment--well, Richard takes me out back to meet his boys, and I'm sure one of them will be Leatherface. And he will be considered the kind one. In no time at all, I will be tossed up on a hook in a freezer, never to be heard from or thought about again. I don't fancy my legacy being that I (literally) made a good stew.

Other than the eeriness that is Richard's and the lack of cool bars and coffee shops, the town isn't that bad. I've been here over a year, and there are still adjustments being made, but I have no real complaints. After all, in this age of communications, I have the cable and I have the high-speed Internets. There's no escaping technology, I guess.

Wendy and I have 30 years to pay off this house (well, 29 now). We're not going anywhere anytime soon. So sit back and get comfortable. There's more to come.

Write Brad at exit149@gmail.com

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