Quote:
Originally Posted by Vampyre
I almost changed my mind about Wilt kidnapping Zigzag and taking the bus; I was going to have him charge down the road, dragging Zigzag along with him, then having Zigzag pull him to a stop when they're like, running through the park or something, followed by another argument and then Zigzag eventually trying to slap some snese into him. But I felt it was just... Too depressing, and I felt that something good should happen before everything goes wrong (Oh come on, you guys didnt think it would bee plain sailing from when Ziz dumped Ramone, did ya?)
I got your review, PBL, (I had my head phones in at the time, so the gun shot that sounds when I get an email defeaned me, thank you) and you'll probably be getting a note from me on DA or a PM on here rather soon, since I'd probably have a better chance penetrating re-enforced concrete with a plastic spoon than writing out everyday life it a state which is almost half way across the world to me. I really appreciate your offer to help me, since from here on, I officially have no idea what I'm doing XD
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No problem-I'm happy to help. I make several trips to Charleston, aka "The Holy City", each year; I've got relatives and friends who live there, too. I got lost there recently, in the very same part of town that we glimpse in
GWH, which is NOT a part of town you'll find on any of the tourist websites, let me tell you! The only good directions I got all day(I was looking for a convention center in the suburb of Mount Pleasant, where the Southeastern Studebaker Drivers Club was hosting a meeting and show) was from a member of the Crips, identified by his and his cronies' "colors", in front of a Voodoo shop off Rutledge Street. I don't know what was more interesting, the Voodoo shop, or the look on those guys' faces when a middle-aged White woman walked up to them and asked for directions, lol, even though they were doing their best to look menacing and threatening. This is one of those very old cities where you can be in a well-preserved historical section of town one minute, with art shops and five-star restaurants, where the upper crust of society still speaks with a slight British accent, and the next moment, you're in a crumbling, crime-and-drug-ridden ghetto, or just a bridge's span away, a tropical island, where the locals speak a language and dialect that's been almost unchanged since their ancestors were taken from their West African homes, centuries before.
You know it's gotta live up to that lable of "Most Polite City in America" when even the gang members are willing to give you directions!
pitbulllady