The main reason for going involved an invitation from friends from the Internet, a movie board I've frequented since 1998. In fact, The Film and Entertainment Lounge is the only board I visit on the Net. So sure, these are friends I've never met before, but that�s the norm nowadays, isn�t it? I know many of you have done the same. This is a close-knit group, though, with one pair - Ray from NJ and Heidi from British Columbia - engaged to be married. Besides, it�s fun to wonder if others think that in person you�re like your online persona, then afterwards wonder about initial impressions.

I'm happy to report that there aren�t any fakers, here, though I'm not sure how I came across. I always guess that I'm an acquired taste. I'm shy at first, so it takes awhile to open up, and then I won't shut up about trivial matters once I get comfortable. Sometimes I think I could use a filter between my mind and my mouth. And my sense of humor, well, most people still haven't figured that one out yet. But I'm always in the mood for tomfoolery. Maturity is vastly overrated.

This week's main cast of characters:

-- Kymmee, a woman of rare beauty and delicate constitution, is from Sumter, S.C., with a hubby and 11-year-old Britney Spears look-alike for a daughter.

-- Brian, from Nashville, works in the video biz, also an aspiring writer with two years in L.A. under his belt. He loves to spend time in the wilderness, especially the desert (hence his name on the board, Desert Wanderer).

-- Ashton, from Charleston, S.C. My co-workers kept giving me tips on restaurants for the city, but I paid heed to none. You see, Ashton is somewhat of a food connoisseur, and knows the area's best eateries, thankyouverymuch.

-- Ward, also from Charleston, S.C. and the owner of a lovely home that served as home base of our visit. Ash lives with him, with Ward's dog Cookie (a long dog that seems to be a mix of wiener dog and German Shepherd) and Ash's dog Shug (an 80-pound behemoth who will lick you for days, as Ward says: "His is dumb as dirt and is the reincarnation of the dog from Funny Farm. Takes off running when you let her out and just never stops, as if she is in hot pursuit of prey that isn't there."). Ward toils in environmental politics, such as writing legislation. You'll notice this in the pictures, so I'll mention it now, that Ward does need the use of a wheelchair due to an occurrence as a child.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 23, 2002

Out of Atlanta by 3:30 a.m., taking my preferred drive under the stars for long-distance trips. Traffic's light, the window breeze is cool, and no one can make fun of you singing at the top of your lungs to Air Supply. Or U2. You know, whatever floats your diaphragm.

After a stop at a rest area, I was knocking on Ward and Ashton's door by 9:30 a.m. They live in a very attractive and colorful old-new home, an instance of Charlestonites making sure to keep a grasp on the past as the future zips by. Traditions in the town are abundant, and everyone from there knows what it�s like �to be from Charleston,� and the identity of the town. As Ashton noted, it's a city where strangers still ask "who are your people?" To be specific, Ward and Ash live in Mt. Pleasant, on the northeast side of town.

Of course, the city may feel a little too good about it's preservationist style. In the "Charleston Best Read Guide," a tourist booklet, as part of "Charleston Firsts" it lists:

Strongly influenced by the attitudes of the great planters in the early 1850s, Charleston may have been the first important American city to have a strong sense of its own character as something to be preserved.

At Ward and Ashton's I also met Brian, who arrived from Nashville the day before, sleeping on the couch for his visit. Kymmee and I would stay five minutes away at the Red Roof Inn (more about that later).

Fort Moultrie The current structure was completed in 1809 and is the third fort on this site. The original palmetto log fort was started in 1776 and was only half completed when attacked by a British fleet on June 28, 1776. Colonel William Moutrie's South Carolinians repelled this assault in one of the first decisive patriot victories of the Revolution. This battle began a tradition of seacoast defense on Sullivan's Island which did not end until 1947.

Me, Ash and Brian drove a few minutes to the coast, to Sullivans Island and Ft. Moultrie, where fortifications dating to the Revolutionary War are still standing. Nothing from the Independence is still there, but the fort does still maintain a War of Northern Aggression look, plus guns and batteries from more modern times since it was actively used as a coastal defense through WWII. Operational until 1947, the fort defended Charleston from the British in 1776, and from the Union in 1863, eventually falling to both but only when war was near an end.

The historical stop was really just to pass the time until after Noon, when Ashton, Ward, Brian and myself met Ashton and Ward's friend Adam at an Ashley River dock to hop on his boat for an afternoon cruise around the Charleston waterfront on a three-hour tour. That's right. A three-hour tour, minus a country babe, a glamorous babe, and a rich old couple. Without using any specifics, I think we had the Skipper, Gilligan and Professor on board.

	Not Adam's boat. Just a hideously large, yet beautiful cruise ship in the harbor.

We putt-putted down the Ashley River, enjoying a warm day with relatively calm waters, turned into the Cooper River to check out the old Naval base, noting that despite the base�s closing in 1995 there is still activity loading big cargo ships presumably for action in the Middle East.

Here are Ward's thoughts on the ride, including one of the more interesting aspects, that being the impressive turn radius of Adam's boat:

We went out on a friend's boat to tour the harbor and both rivers that run along the Charleston peninsula. Said friend went along with Ashton's bright idea of showing us the maneuvering ability of the boat without giving us fair warning. Adam, our fearless captain, turns the wheel sharply to the right, and Jeff and Brian, who are seated on the left, go flying out of their seats to the right, with Brian plowing into me and getting a fat lip when his mouth hits the side of the boat. Otherwise, saw some dolphins and pelicans and went up alongside a massive cruise ship, then Fort Sumter, and then the USS Yorktown."

On the way back we parked the boat at a gas dock to get some appetizers at the California Dreaming restaurant along the Ashley R. and meet Adam�s wife Marie. By this time the wind had blown our hair into some funky shapes, and our skin was farely baked from the heat reflection on the water, even though it was cloudy. If I wasn't already so attractive, I might've been self-conscious.

It's back to the dock, then the home base of Ward's home and I check in the Red Roof. There I meet up with the estrogen presence of the trip, the lovely Kymmee, who stayed two doors down (actually, I knew she was in room 123, so I requested a room close by � I�m a sneaky, yet practical devil). All is now hunky dory in the land.

That night we did what we do every night: Try to take over the world! On a full stomach, of course.

Dinner was at Coast near downtown, one of those restaurants where yuppies hang around the bar with drinks and smokes, and the food has fancy names with sauces you never thought to mix. There were six of us now: Me, Ash, Ward, their friend Sam, Brian and Kymmee. It was Hot as Hell Wednesday at the restaurant, so I think we ought to think of it as our title rather than the spicy flavor of the food.

After dinner, Ward departed for home since he had to actually work Thursday (What? What is this work you speak of? When I grow up, I'm never working!). The rest of the Hot as Hell crew braved the dark downtown streets to take a Ghost Tour, led by an ancient Charleston man with a local accent that left a few of us looking for a translation. Just as more than 700 different languages are spoken in Papua New Guinea, there are as many Southern accents that require a Rosetta Stone to decipher.

The stories weren't really that spooky, but they were historical and full of the city's flavor, from pirates to the Revolution to the Civil War to dogs and sexually frisky ladies in a B&B (something about a guy coming into the room to check out single gals, who now spend $700 a night in hopes of seeing him - Great, I can't get a phone number of a live chick, yet this dead schmuck has women paying big bucks to spook them).

Afterwards was a stop at Club Habana, a cigar bar for drinks and relaxation, plus get an idea of where to go for fun late-night action. I just ended up with a headache. I like the smell of cigar smoke, but sweet sassy molassey, a dozen at once is a little much!

How do you make God laugh? Make a plan. Unfortunately for my companions, most of the clubs weren�t open at midnight, even Club Tango, which I was shocked to learn did not encourage people to do The Macarena anymore. And strangely enough, even though the state dance of South Carolina is the Shag, no one was doing it. I mean, come on, in Tennessee we all do the Tennessee Waltz at every dance joint!

The club closings were a source of disappointment to the rest, who were looking to boogie oogie till the break of dawn. We ended up at Mandalay, a bar with live music, so either way it was something out of my element (if it�s not miniature golf, a movie and Perkins, I'm out). But I will try anything, especially in good company that can bring me out of that warm blanket of a shell.

Still, one wonders, how come no one has to stoop to my level? Why do country folk in movies always go to the big city to open their eyes, yet no one from big cities ever retreats to the country and finds peace in slow-talkin� and meatloaf?

Getting around all night we were split in two cars, with Kymmee gracing my passenger seat. During these rides, I realized that it�s a lot easier for me to talk to women straight up than men (warning, Jeff's going to either show his sensitive side here or completely lose all credibility as a card-carrying GOP male, as if the stuffed Eeyore on the dashboard hasn't already blown my cover). It seems that too many times guys are playing games full of macho posturing, even if we�re not. Hey, I'm a guy. If a girl laughs at my jokes and pretends I'm a cool guy, you're a princess and I'll love you forever. Thus, Kymmee can never do wrong in my book.

As I said before, Kymmee and I stayed at Red Roof Inn. For $36 a night it was an easy choice, although not one for a longer stay. To give you an idea of why, in the furious packing before the trip I forgot my shampoo and had to buy it from the hotel vending machine. The bottle was right next to a row of condoms and under the candy. Hope no kids punch F1 instead of E1! �Mom, these Life Savers sure taste funny.� Even still, for some reason the shampoo smelled like Coppertone suntan lotion.

Why does my bed have three pillows? Do they have that much faith in my nightlife? Alas, one was fine for this trip. As a Greek proverb says, "If you cannot catch a fish, do not blame the sea."