I spent my afternoon out at Boone Hall, slowly becoming one solid mass of frozen matter. Theoretically, it wasn't all that cold. It was 47˚. BUT add wind and misty rain and you've got a farm full of cold, snot-filled Mt. Pleasantians. This did not deter the unwavering and steadfast drunks who came to enjoy the Wine Festival. They brought blankets and rubber boots. Coolers and wine bags. I even saw one couple sporting some kind of medallion necklaces that hold your wine glass for you, freeing your hands to pick through veggie trays and cheese plates.
So there I stood, smiling at the oncoming sober faces, handing them glasses and answering the same three or four questions from each group. My script consisted of the following statements.
- Why yes thanks. I am freezing.
- You're just going to walk right through here.
- Oh I'm sorry. There is no ATM. (you're on a farm)
- The bathrooms? They're just behind you.
- Sir. Please don't take those.
While I was beyond elated to see my Mexican Loves, these were truly miserable conditions. I will accept that 30% of my misery was my fault because I did not wear the proper heat saving shoes. It sure makes a difference when your feet are cold. I lost feeling in my toes after about an hour. I also experienced an extremely sharp pain in my frozen right ankle when I walked and so I decided that if anyone should push me, my ankle would surely snap in two.
I ran up out of that joint the minute Jadie told me I could go. Normally I stick around to visit with my fellas and help clean up what I can. I busted out of there with minimal farewells for my loves. All the guys are headed to Mexico next week for their much earned vacation time and Antonio's big wedding.
Anywho. Jadie did send me this awful picture he found of me standing with the Boone Hall BigWigs at last year's festival. On the far right there is Willie. He owns the place and grew up in the plantation house. You can still see his model airplanes and baseball cards up in his old bedroom. It's strange to see his childhood relics keeping space on the kind of old antebellum furniture you see in display cases in museums. It's weird to me that he slept in those creepy old beds as a kid.
I came straight home yesterday and sat in my bathtub of nearly boiling water for about an hour. I've finally thawed out, thanks.
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