Day 10-11

The West Virginia adventure is over, but a few stories must be shared.

1) You know all the anecdotes you hear about West Virginia? Grungy, poor, uneducated, hillbilly, The Armpit? I always brushed these stereotypes off as state neighbors trying to prop themselves up. Sure, I'd driven through parts of West Virginia that were some of the poorest places I've ever seen, this includes countries in South America and Morocco. Sure, the place does the barbaric act of lopping off mountain tops (once known as strip mining, our raft guide informed us it's now called "mountain top removal." That's supposed to be better?). Well, this trip turned the spotlight onto the perfect, stereotypical West Virginian.

His name is Charlie. He looks like Steve-O but with a long pony tail and darker eyes. He's nicknamed "The Mouth" by his fellow guides because for the entire four hour rafting trip he didn't stop talking (er, yelling). By the end his voice was going hoarse; it was a nearly-endless litany of jokes about drinking and sex. On the bus ride back to the lodge, about a 10 minute affair, he drank five beers. At the bar afterwards he wore a shawl made out of Crown Royal purple bags. This guy was legit. A stereotype maker.

2) Rafting is fun. New friends are fun. Old friends are fun. Six hours of endless beer is a bad idea for Brian, the trip coordinator, who we ended up putting into the back of his pickup to sleep with Blue, his one-brown-eye one-white-eye dog.

Now I'm in Durham and heading to Raleigh tomorrow for a couple days. Chris, David, Hobbs, Mary Ann, Andrea, and Bumbry are all on the visit list. Then off to DC for a grand reunion.