downtown, take two

last week my yin and i went to downtown Boone (such as it is) to participate in a guided ghost and historical tour. having spent almost two-thirds of my life within a twenty mile radius of Boone, i was somewhat skeptical regarding the existence of even a single ghost, much less enough to necessitate a 90 minute tour. my yin, however, was relentless, dogging me with the intrepid enthusiasm of a deer tick on a summer day.

(the author, when necessary,

can shed one artifice for another.

the result may,

or may not,

coincide with the conceit

implied by the word "authentic"

but this is beside the point.)

the point is that we arrived at six o'clock to find:

besides the ridiculous spurs, patent leather shoes, and patently faux 19th century attire, our guide had also harangued his wife and son into dressing up like characters from:

and, while it is possible to imagine that his life partner shares his passion for period reenactments, i find it difficult to believe that his adolescent, acned progeny found the whole experience anything less than utterly humiliating.

regardless of the youth's state of mind, what followed was the makings of a truly excruciating disappointment, which went something like this:

"if you look behind me, you will see the Boone Post Office. now, some time ago a postal employee had a heart attack in the building and died. and now..."

[dramatic pause]

"there's a ghost in the building..."

[undramatic pause]

"now, if you follow me down the way here... "

[the crowd follows him

down the way there]

"across the street is the Boone Antique Mall,

which used to be Belk's department store. now,

some years ago on the the second floor, a man had

a heart attack and died. and now..."

[dramatic pause]

there's a ghost on the second floor..."

[laughably undramatic pause]

i turn to my yin and say,

"apparently there is no rest

for heart attack victims."

things continue on in this manner for the next fifteen minutes, with the tour guide vaguely communicating ghost stories in the most non-descriptive manner possible. the boredom has momentary blips of comic relief, however, when a disgusted six year old child says, loudly, to his father:

"that's it? we're not even going to go in the building?"

my yin and i, sharing the six year old's sentiment, split off from the group and use:

which leads to:

and found ourselves in a restaurant sitting across from:

who took turns texting and not talking to one another. unimpressed, my yin and i shared an unbelievably delicious (oxymoronic) vegetarian Cuban enchilada, and then left the girls to cruise the rest of downtown. we soon discovered:

which my yin promptly used to photograph:

in her typical display of photographic je ne sais quoi.

this trip has been rife with such opportunities, and tonight we plan on returning to King Street with my brother and his girlfriend, in search of an elusive art walk. details to follow, as ever...