One of the myriad head-scratching things you see Downtown during Race Week in Charlotte. 
Double Weinermobile Action!
One verse for the fallen-down
My wife and I were out running errands last night — well, she was, and I was set to wander in an exhausted, Klonopin-blurred fog. I encountered the Sir Ed’s sign and I was taken a bit aback.
You see, Sir Ed’s closed a few months ago. Its closing was announced abruptly; there was scarcely time to get the word out before its final night. All the locals did what is typically done these days, bombarding Facebook and Twitter with messages to coordinate when everyone would be there. Personally, I had a game to run, but I stopped that a bit short so I could pay my final respects. It was understandably packed with merry mourners. The crowd spilled out into the parking lot.
I don’t have that many memories of the place though. I remember a handful of dinners there during off-peak hours and sprawling birthday parties. I was by no means a regular. The place was a Charlotte fixture, however. It was one of those establishments that was always so vibrant and busy that you thought it would be there in perpetuity.
I don’t know why the sign’s still there, honestly. I figured it would have been taken down by now. I’d like to think it serves as a small reminder of the good times all of its patrons had over the years.
(Title credit: Boduf Songs)
Last Glimmer On A Hill At Dusk by Boduf Songs
Download now or listen on posterous
boduf_songs-last_glimmer_on_a_hill_at_dusk.mp3 (6995 KB) Download now or listen on posterous
wide awake in the Big Cancer
It blindsides me every now and then when I drive through town. Long-running establishments are shuttered. Seemingly-invulnerable franchises scale back and leave empty shells. Simultaneously, new buildings rise at a dizzying rate. The south corridor braids itself with the light rail line.
Charlotte’s dichotomy of build-up and tear-down can be felt most strongly as one heads toward downtown. The first thing you’ll notice is the spread of skyscrapers still under construction. Then you’ll notice the veritable army of cranes hoisting building material skyward. Then, especially if you’ve lived here for a few years and paid attention, you’ll wonder what existed in the city block that got plowed to construct these new edifices to the modern ego.
I’m not saying it’s bad — I’m a fan of growth and of the excitement that new opportunities bring — but the dizzying speed of consumption/construction feels cancerous at times. The city metastasizes; the old gets devoured in favour of the insatiable new.
