Once my friends had collected and chewed on coconuts until they had their fill, I was itching to get off of my island again. Or perhaps the itching was just the sunburn…
Any who, did I mention that I met a really giant Albatross? Right. Well, with there being no other ships in sight… I had to reel in my luck once more. I started flapping my arms again to get the giant glider’s attention. Minutes later, and once again I’m profusely sweating, the albatross landed. My shipmates… you’ve got to love them, but the savagery. With their bellies full of coconut they attempted to eat our only way off the island.
Once I convinced my friends that they weren’t hallucinating and, yes, I was very very serious about not letting them eat the big bird… we were all able to climb aboard.
We were at the disposal of a humongous albatross and you won’t believe where he disposed of us… this place called Charles Towne. Charlestowne? No, Charleston. That’s it.
What a city it is. I like to think of it as a gift from the gods. Upon soaring in on the coastal breeze, there were more steeples than one could possibly count. Or more than I can count at least.
So we climbed down off the Albatross… thankful for an uneventful arrival and dry land that was far from water locked. We immediately split up. My shipmates went in search of lodging and food. Can you spot a theme here?
As for me, I was ready to find my bearings in this Holy City.
The weather is warm, must be Spring, although I have not a single idea about what day of the week it is… I start walking.
The cobblestone streets of Charleston are beautiful. And the people. I don’t know what’s in the water here but I want a taste. There are smiling faces everywhere. This could be the happiest places on Earth.
I notice a child… and a mighty cute one at that! Surely he can’t be more than three. He’s eating a plate of peanut butter topped bananas. His mouth is watering, my mouth is watering… No I can’t take the young one’s snack.
Curiously the little boy goes, “I’m Harlowe, would you like a hat?” I replied, “Of Course.” Why wouldn’t I want a hat? Then Harlowe hands me a bucket. As I start to place the bucket on my head, he hands me a piece of peanut butter banana to seal the deal. This little guy, whenever I get my brewery back up, would get a porter in his haberdashery honor: Harlowe’s Hats.