I was halfway through my second doughnut of the last 5 minutes; a salted caramel old fashion which was somewhere between a doughnut and a huge shortbread biscuit (my first doughnut was a maple bacon doughnut because breakfast isn’t breakfast without bacon), when I heard a woman’s voice shout “Black Sabbath!?”
I turned and saw a woman in her 50s approaching me. I realised I was wearing the Black Sabbath t-shirt I bought at the band’s final gig.
“Do you listen to Black Sabbath?” She asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Black Sabbath!? How old are you?”
I told her that I was 30 and from the city where Black Sabbath was formed. She told me she was originally from the UK but had moved to Charleston over 35 years ago. She was raised in Africa for the first few years of her life but later moved back to the UK with her parents. She couldn’t get on with the weather in England so relocated not long after finishing school; she reminisced about listening to rock music and skipping class to sneak a cigarette behind the bike sheds.
She asked about my trip and began to well up when she wished me all the best.
“I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for in life,” she said, “I’ve got to run, I’ve got to pay the meter. I’m about to start crying all over you.”
A few days later, I was heading out for dinner. I’d been to Hominy Grill before, but that was for breakfast on my first full day in Charleston. I was walking up the quiet residential street on which my host lived when I walked past a young woman playing heavy metal music from her phone. A few seconds after she had passed me, I heard her shout:
“Is that a f-cking Truckfighters t-shirt!? Where did you even get that?”
“They played at Desertfest in London last year,”
“That’s f-cking awesome! Have you heard of Red Fang?”
The conversation turned to quick fire questions of whether or not the other person had heard of a particular band until we’d both run out.
“Have you been to Rec Room? Sounds like it would be your kind of place,” she said.
Too bad I was leaving Charleston first thing in the morning. Oh well, just another excuse to come back.