Six months, a week and a day after our move to Charlotte, our integration felt complete.
It started on Friday evening with our visit to the Charlotte Fair. Scott and his business partner had met the event organizers the day before and had taken video footage of the fair. When Scott and I arrived the next day, he had already befriended the promoter and the ticket collector, who waved us through a side entrance, bypassing the line of people waiting to pay for their admissions. It wasn’t the same as getting past the velvet rope on a Saturday night in the Meatpacking – it was better.
Instead of watching the mating rituals of Manhattanites, we saw baby animals at the petting zoo that resulted from actual mating at the fair. Furry lambs with budding horns stuck their heads out of the wire fence eager to be petted or fed; a baby chick that just broke free from its eggshell struggled to learn to walk while her days-old siblings piled up on top of each other in one fuzzy yellow 
heap; a dozen piglets lay in a row by their mother suckling and napping; and a dairy cow was being milked to feed the three hungry calves playing nearby. I even got to see the 1,600-pound World’s Fattest Pig without paying the 50¢ that the guard with a cowboy hat was collecting. It was as good as getting past the bouncer at a swanky club without paying a cover charge.
heap; a dozen piglets lay in a row by their mother suckling and napping; and a dairy cow was being milked to feed the three hungry calves playing nearby. I even got to see the 1,600-pound World’s Fattest Pig without paying the 50¢ that the guard with a cowboy hat was collecting. It was as good as getting past the bouncer at a swanky club without paying a cover charge.
Then we waltzed into the adjoining collectibles car auction where Scott chatted business with the venue’s General Manager. A couple of hundred cars – from early 1900s Model-Ts to 50s Chevy Sport Coupes to 80s Datsuns – were on display. Aficionados, mostly middle-aged men, walked about admiring the automobiles and peering under the hoods to scrutinize the engines. A parade of cars was being driven one by one to the auction arena where a hundred potential buyers sat focused on the rapid fire auctioneer. A stunning cherry red Thunderbird from the 50s was in line heading for the auction arena when I saw a man run his fingers lasciviously over its curves. It looked almost pornographic. In fact, I felt like a voyeur. The auction was an intimate glimpse into a subculture that I bet few Charlotteans know about. The next day, we became members of the Mint Museum. It is the MoMA of Charlotte and even physically resembles it. I was impressed and honestly relieved that such a museum existed in Charlotte, and was happy to find a worthy replacement for my lapsed MoMA membership.
What capped the weekend of Rapid Integration was the result of the campaign picnic hosted by the Democratic candidate for city commissioner, who Scott was doing some work with. We met the candidate, his wife, his campaign manager, and the crew who roasted a whole pig – Carolina style – in a smoker hauled in for the occasion. The pork and slaw was delicious and I wished I could’ve brought leftovers home with me.
What we did bring home though, were a few lawn signs urging people to vote for the candidate. Actually, they never made it home. On our way back, we stopped to stick our Marc for Meck signs into the side of the road, right next to those from his competition – Craig Madans County Commissioner At Large and Oronde McLean for Meck County.
From Charlotte’s low to its high brow, in one weekend, we covered it all.
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