North Charleston, SC

A few blogs back, I went on a downtown library date at the suggestion of Ben with On Purpose Adventures/Dating. We had such a good time with his first suggestion that I decided to look back at his other ideas and the man is full of great local freebies. If you ever catch yourself saying,“I have nothing to do!”ask this guy for date help, or just check out his FB page to make you look really boring. That man is way too busy! Did you see his awesome RiverDog ZombieDog?

I digress, but another one of the date suggestions he gave to us was to go on a Geocache. What the heck is Geocaching, you ask? Well, it requires a good GPS app like Google Maps, some passion for treasure hunting, a bit of patience and an eagle eye to seek out your pot at the end of the rainbow. Are you waiting for a dinner reservation somewhere? I can guarantee there is a Geocache within scouting distance. I initially dismissed this date idea since I’m just not tech savvy. GPS/smart phone gadgets intimidate me, but my man, Mr. D, who doesn’t prefer a flip phone from the old ages, wanted to give this date suggestion a whirl. How could I say no? It was another chance to explore our fabulous city for free.

We took on North Charleston/Park Circle for an afternoon. Pulling the truck into a church parking lot, we unloaded our bikes and headed down the street to the first GPS coordinates, just down the way from EVO. The geo community site offered only one simple clue to help guide you in locating the smallest of small caches. It’s shocking…hmm.

We were an entertaining sight to others who watched as Mr. D wandered around with his giant phone outstretched in front of him, trying to narrow down the location. I got down on hands and knees to peer under cob web and dirt encrusted possibilities. We even got asked if we needed help finding our keys. Well, I’ll be honest; that first one was a bit tricky. I experienced first-hand what other “cachers” had rightly warned me about in their online feedback. It took me looking in the same place three times to finally find the little bugger, but it was me – competitive me – and not Mr. D who found the small-as-my-pinky, silver, magnetic bullet that held a book of signatures curled onto a piece of paper tucked inside. I was proud of myself for not giving up when draft beer at DIG was calling my name and found that I was immediately addicted to the hunt. Excited to find the next hidden booty, we peddled to the local pond and as I ranaway from some scary geese, Mr. D hauled the medium sized container out of the bushes. We plopped down on the grass and looked through all the little tokens that people had left inside the green container. The afternoon went on with one cache that must have been stolen, one snuggled next to a bunch of busy bees, and if any of you ever find the one on the Frisbee golf course, you must tell us where it is!

The only thing missing was a picnic basket full of Southern Season cheeses and a beautiful red wine stashed at our last find. Since then, we’ve found a great hide after a visit to the Frothy Beard and I also had the skills to find another tiny, silver gem in a West Ashley parking lot while we waited for my foster dog from Carolina Coonhound (I haven’t lost another one yet – cross your fingers). You will never look at your environment again without wondering how many caches there are out there. So, get out into our city with a friend or your family and start looking!

A warm Welcome Back to Tatiana Fisher as our main contributing writer and blogger. We look forward to sharing more adventures of hers! You can check out her blog for more fun times.

I think only succeeding once out of three tries justifies failure, so should I just give up? I should have given up when some guy pulled his car up next to me, rolled down the window and yelled, “Get in!” Oh my God, he thought I was a hooker! It was an innocent mistake. I was dressed in old moccasins, a cotton beach skirt, and loose tank top yelling, “Bambi come here, Bambi”. The sun was fading and apparently the nightlife was getting frisky, in my Hanahan hood. I’m pretty sure my look of absolute horror made him pull away without another word. I remember being so embarrassed to be yelling Bambi as my neighbors drank Forties malt liquor (it was a scene straight out of Friday), laughing at the little white girl stalking about abandoned houses as they sat comfortably on their front porches, enjoying the cool down of the evening. Yes, embarrassed, and maybe second-thinking my move from a safe tourist town to what I tell my boyfriend is an “up and coming” area, that in reality has a very high crime rate. Was I risking my life for a skinny dog named freaking Bambi?

My first foster dog from Charleston Animal Society had bailed over a low part of my fence and my loyal black lab Hagan ran into my bedroom to tattle on her with a rare, high-pitch whine. I figured out the cause of his distress when I saw through my window my new dog dash down the street. I threw on some shoes, grabbed a leash and started running after her.

I wanted to help. I wanted to provide for a poor abused animal, rehab the precious thing and then find an amazing forever home for her. One dog at a time, every little effort helps in animal rescue. I didn’t foresee an escapee in my rescue fantasy!

I cornered Bambi in an empty back yard of a house for sale and felt triumphant walking her back down my street, neighbors cheering. Then my cheap, old moccasin slippers caught on a crack in the pavement, and I literally went head over tea kettle to the ground. It could have been a scene out of a wile e coyote cartoon- except if I was a cartoon it would have been less road burn- but I swear I heard a “meep, meep” from my road running away dog. The leash had come out of my hand, and I saw that thick pink line to success go flying down the road. The neighbors went silent. We never found Bambi. I like to think she ran all the way back to her real home in the country and is curled up in a big dog bed, having nightmares of the wannabe Pocahontas chasing after her. Failure dog #1

I gave it a month or so and decided to try again. Home came one of the skinniest dogs I had ever seen in rescue. I would walk by her cell and, even though she could barely get around, she would try to get up to say hi to me. I grabbed her up in my arms and rushed her home. Animal bleeding heart to the rescue! She was fearful of everything but my handsome Hagan was the dog that all the gals get a crush on. So we used that to get her in and out of the house until she started to trust us. She wasn’t house trained or crate trained and went through a longer foster home adjustment time than usual, but all of us grew very fond of our Olive Oyle. She gained weight, house manners and confidence and was adopted in a few months. Success dog #2

Dog number three would dance around her dinner bowl, whole butt wiggling and feet tapping and that was the inspiration for her name Treme. She had a little bit of music in her step, just like the music coming from that neighborhood of New Orleans gives you. Treme had no accidents in the house and thought we were awesome. Hagan was so excited to share a yard with someone new that he ran figure eights around her with a huge grin on his face as she loped around, stretching her long legs. She was great at cuddles, and a super star at the dog park. I was going to get this one adopted quickly.

Jackson, WY is one of the most dog friendly towns in the country. No leash laws, bring them to work, take them hiking and watch them bound ahead of you with fellow happy Jackson dogs. This is what my dog grew up with, and I love to sneak out to the bigger parks and let my athletic boy bounce like a deer through the bush on occasion. I didn’t think twice when I got to Santee Park and let the two of them out of the back of the truck. I had every intention of hooking a leash on Treme and doing a couple of miles, working on leash manners as Hagan ran free. With the same damn pink leash in hand, I locked the truck and called Treme to me. My best friend owns a hound, and I knew that look: good things never came from that look. She paused, even turned to me, but wait, eyes lit up, nose catching the wind as she wrinkled her sparkling brown eyes, and I saw her ponder the decision. Go to the great human with leash or she was out of there! I had hardy sneakers on this time, and I booked after her. Even Hagan belted behind her, but the smells in the wind and a hound’s endurance won out and she disappeared. Hagan would catch a whiff of the elusive girl and take off. I pictured my loyal Lab dragging that little dog back, teeth wrapped gently around the collar, and we would all laugh at her silly hound ways! Instead, the park was closing in five minutes, and I was one dog short. I had no witnesses this time in my search and rescue attempt as I broke God knows what laws and snuck through the gaps in the fence, back into the park as the sun started to set. I ended up going home when I couldn’t see anymore and had nightmares of gators chomping Treme for dinner when she paused from her gone-with-the-wind run for a drink of fresh water. Well, thankfully, she was picked up the next day and taken back to CAS. Failure dog #3.

When I quit CAS, I pacified myself of leaving animal rescue, my PASSION, by trying to foster, but maybe my talents could be used in a different outlet? Or maybe the fourth try will be the best?

If you are up for a satisfying challenge, Charleston Animal Society can always use Foster Ambassadors. They will find a dog (or cat) that will fit into your lifestyle and send you home with food, supplies and an adoption vest. You can take that dog out to events around town, dog parks etc and get them adopted. It is a great motivator to get out and be involved in our city’s endless events and literally save a dog’s life.

Written by Contributing Writer Tatiana Fisher. Want more laughs? Read her other ghost walk, dating, and outdoor adventures!

The marketing plug was in place and the sponsors were ready:

“Warning. The quarantine was breached for a race against time. Join Holy City Brewing, Lowcountry AIDS Services (LAS) and the walking dead for a pub crawl like no other in Park Circle on Saturday, October 5th from 5-11 pm. The apocalyptic 3rd annual “Pint of Hope” Zombie Pub Crawl will feature discounted Holy City brews ordinarily unavailable to the public, live music by DJ Big Hair Dave, a costume contest & much more.

Dress like the undead and battle for a chance to win a private tasting for you and 9 of your favorite living corpses at Holy City Brewing.”

The only issue with the Pint of Hope Zombie Pub Crawl was that it was a modern day disaster in its execution. The event supported the Lowcountry Aids Foundation with sponsors and participating restaurants including:

Restaurants:

• The Barbeque Joint
• Cork Neighborhood Bistro
• DIG in the Park
• EVO Pizza
• Fratello’s
• Madra Rua Irish Pub
• The Mill
• Sesame Burgers and Beer
• The Sparrow

Sponsors:

• Holy City Brewing (presenting sponsor)
• Belk
• Artist & Craftsman
• Big Hair Productions
• Gil Shuler Graphic Design
• The Event Cooperative
• Kask Creativity
• Snyder Event Rentals
• Vive le Rock Productions
• Robust Energy Drink

Many came out to support the cause and bring out the inner “undead” but a number of things went dramatically wrong during the hours of 5 PM and 1 AM.

What went wrong!!!

• All restaurants were supposed to offer participants a different Holy City Beer option for $3.00. Two restaurants charged $2.00, one charged $3.00, one $5.00 and two didn’t even clearly show a Holy City option. In fact none of the 9 restaurants offered the Holy City option to the participants when then entered and sat down. They just gave us menus and asked what we wanted.
• I asked about the markers to identify stopping at each location and one restaurant manager said he didn’t even know what was going on until the day of the event.
• One of the sponsors was Yelp who announced there would be a scavenger hunt along with the event. Aside from some koozies, there was no other representation of Yelp and no scavenger hunt. The only resemblance was that each team had to drink at all nine restaurants.
• Times were not designated for each location so all individual teams signed in and went their own way. The idea of a pub crawl is to migrate together, co-mingle and make new friends. The lack of order made it almost impossible to follow others and branch outside of your individual team. Getting people to Park Circle / North Charleston from outside the community is a challenge enough. This did not make it easier.
• Service at two of the restaurants was “poor” at best. We even left after waiting seven plus minutes for a single beer.
• After the event, the organizers were drawing winners from those that completed the crawl. We never heard any announcement at DIG or a gathering place to hear who the winners were being announced.
• The silent auction had limited participation and no clear directions on how you would be notified if you won.
• Some people walked the streets with open alcohol including one with a bottle of Corona. We were not sure if that was allowable at all and took a risk to carry open alcohol in the streets.
• There was a best zombie contest scheduled for the end of the event. We did not know when or where it occurred. It may have been somewhere in DIG in the Park, but no signs or direction was provided.

Overall, there were some very creative, creepy and even a few eye turning costumes and make up applications. For a Saturday night at Park Circle, there was a buzz in the air, but for an important fund raiser supporting a very worthy cause, the organization was a failure.

Words cannot express nor give justice to the mind blowing experience witnessed from the seventh row center of the North Charleston Performing Arts Center as Sigur Ros, visiting from Iceland took center stage for a life changing experience. After nearly two hours of visual and musical symmetry, the entire audience was standing and applauding not just out of respect for the live performance, but the way the band dove deep into the trenches of our souls and reminded us of the power of music.

Front man Jonsi Birgisson’s higher than the angels voice in sync with his bow guitar made for a unique sound that embraced the audience from the first to last row. Named after Jonsi’s sister, Sigurros Elin, the band has been exciting crowds since 1994.

From the powerful bass, to the soothing keyboards
From the violins to the xylophone
From the drums to saxophone

This eleven piece ensemble created an epic musical event, Broadway show and laser light show wrapped with a bow. Paying homage to the visual and musical experience pioneered by Pink Floyd, Sigur Ros has not only taken over where Floyd left off, but taken us into another dimension we did not even know was within ourselves.

Prior to this evening, this writer has witnessed hundreds of live performances throughout his adult years. Yet, until 8:30 PM on Wednesday evening, Radiohead had topped my list for greatest live concert. From the first string of the guitar to the last howling sound of Jonsi’s voice, I witnessed a changing of the guards.

It was visually stunning. It was musically brilliant and most importantly it was spiritually enlightening.

The show started with a flow of pure mediation and powered itself up to a rock fused climax. Each song built up more power until the electric finish. It left us wanting more. Much, much more.

There are so many wonderful events and concerts that come into Charleston each and every year, but rarely does a show take you to another place.

Sigur Ros, for those that witnessed this event, gave us a memory that most of us will carry for the rest of our lives. They transcended all expectations to create visionary and vocal perfection.

Thank you Sigur Ros

We must also give a much deserving bow and applause to Julianna Barwick who took time out of her personal tour dates to open for Sigur Ros. Her range and depth provided a soothing sound to usher in the main act. Her voice, keyboards and partner guitar warmed our hearts and opened the gates of expressionism for the evening.