The Daily Dave

Live, laugh, logorrhea

Doing the Charleston

Filed under:

It’s very hard to describe what makes Charleston unique.

You can type for a long time without finding words that capture its charm and character—not just what it looks like, but what it feels like. When you start talking about the past, writing gets even more challenging. Charleston’s history is a koan: How do we hold the truth that a place built for gentility and opportunity was also the center of dehumanization and cruelty?

So, what’s a poor blog artisan like me to do when challenged with these points and paradoxes? After a while, he throws up his hands, starts a new draft and offers you …

Ten Totally Made-Up Things I Learned About Charleston

  1. Charleston is named after American actor Charles Nelson Reilly.
  2. Charleston sits about 1,450 feet (about 430 meters) above sea level.1
  3. The demonym for people from Charleston is “Chucks.”
  4. Charleston played pivotal roles in the American Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the Rock ‘N’ Roller Cola Wars.2
  5. Charleston’s Queen Street is named after, yup, American actor Charles Nelson Reilly.
  6. Charleston’s landmark Rainbow Row was painted bright colors in 1963 by the Eastman Kodak Co. to boost interest in color photography. It had been known before as Drab Street.
  7. The Charleston Chew was created by a pharmacist and originally contained cocaine, like Coca-Cola. Unlike Coca-Cola, it still contains cocaine.
  8. The Pineapple Fountain is controversial because it honors Confederate General Beauregard Calhoun Pineapple.
  9. In Charleston, “River dogs” are rats, “palmetto bugs” are cockroaches, and “oysters on the half shell” are snot glop.3
  10. Charleston’s Reilly Street is named after, you guessed it, American sportswriter Rick Reilly.
A fountain that resembles a pineapple in a park. There are several buildings and a harbor in the background. The photo was taken at sunrise.
General Bureaugard Calhoun Pineapple’s monument.

Rainy Days and Saturdays Never Get Us Down

Charleston greeted our group—my brother, our cousins, and all of our spouses—with a deluge on Saturday morning.4 Which, regrettably, is when we had planned a walking tour. We met our guide, Mimi, at 9, about half an hour before the drippy rain turned into a full-on downpour.

A walking tour group taking shelter under umbrellas during a downpour on Church Street in Charleston, with the guide in a blue raincoat speaking to the group. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
We’re taking time to appreciate some of Charleston’s world-famous awnings. Howie, in the foreground, was the only person wise enough to bring a poncho. (Photo by Rich)

When the Floridians in your group start complaining about the rain, you know it’s too much. Mimi offered to meet us the next day to continue the tour. We soggily and happily agreed, dried out a bit in the hotel, and then went out for lunch.

Three people taking a cheerful selfie outside Charleston Beer Works, with the restaurant sign and palm trees visible behind them. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Look, ma, no umbrellas! The rain let up by the time we had finished lunch at Charleston Beer Works. Randi (on the left) took a selfie with Michon and me.

We popped into Blue Bicycle Books on the way back to the hotel. I had to be dragged out of the store. I saw a first edition of my favorite book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, on display. I was thisclose to buying it, but I flinched at first at the $300 price tag. Later, I decided to buy it—but it had already been snapped up. Damn.5

A man in a Patagonia cap and green jacket stands in Blue Bicycle Books, reading a small red book and playfully posing in thought, surrounded by shelves of novels. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Here’s a book I did buy: the 1975 Michelin Guide to Great Britain and Ireland. This picture is in no way posed. (Photo by Randi)

The cross street near the bookstore is named after my mom. Take that, Charles Nelson Reilly and Rick Reilly!

A man in a rain jacket and cap stands beneath a green “Ann St” street sign in Charleston, looking up thoughtfully with one hand on his chin. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Are you my mother?

St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church takes design cues from Gothic architecture, but the color scheme is all Charleston!

St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church in Charleston, a tall peach-colored Gothic Revival church with a towering spire, red doors, and cars parked out front. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
You can’t see them in this picture, but there were some LGBTQ-friendly signs posted at the church. Thank you for always having our backs, Lutherans!

Market-ing

With the rain over, it was time to check out the Charleston City Market. It was designed a long time ago by a psychotic architect who wanted to see how narrow and poorly designed a hallway could be before people collapsed to their knees, sad and broken, and cried out, “Why, God, why?”

Hold on. I’m thinking of the Charlotte airport.

The Charleston City Market is indeed narrow, crowded, and somewhat claustrophobic.6 It’s somewhat like the French Market in New Orleans, insofar as the tchotchke-to-non–tchotchke ratio is high.

There were some really cool things tucked among the T-shirts and tea towels. A few vendors were weaving Gullah sweetgrass baskets, keeping a 300-year-old art form alive. The baskets seem simple from a distance but, up close, you notice how their technique integrates intricate geometry and engineering to create things of beauty and durability. I regret not buying one.

A group selfie of friends standing near Charleston’s City Market area, with palm trees, shops, and traffic on the street behind them. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Eight of us had made it to the end of the market. I asked someone nearby to take our photo and, after a few shots, he said, “Wouldn’t you prefer to have the historic-looking building in the background?” Good call. We repositioned ourselves and got this picture. From left to right: April, Lee, Michon, Britt, Randi, Rich, Eric, and me.

An Expected Compliment

In the air-conditioned, better-lit part of the market, a tall, handsome guy —picture a cross between Adam Driver and Matt Bomer—called out to me, “Hey, great mustache,” as he walked past.

Something similar happened at the food court at Edgewater Public Market near Denver a few weeks ago. Sadly, there was no one I knew within earshot both times. In Denver, the Complimentary Spouse was in line for Ethiopian food. This time, he was about 20 feet away, laughing at the $20 price tag on a bar of Dubai chocolate.

When something like this happens once, it’s a data point. When it happens twice, it’s the beginning of a trend. Who knows when I’ll get my next unsolicited mustache compliment? I just hope there are witnesses.

Saturday Night’s Alright for Eatin’

A few hours later, we headed to a fantastic dinner at High Cotton, a restaurant Rich had been to before. The food was exceptional, and the service was spectacular—our server, Briana, remembered Rich from his last visit!

A group of family members posing together outside High Cotton restaurant in Charleston, smiling in front of the tan and cream building façade. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Finally, the gang’s all here. From left to right: Britt, April, Elizabeth, Howie, Michon, Rich, Randi, Eric, me, and Lee. We clean up well, don’t we?

When You Get Caught Between the Moon and New York Cousins

After dinner, Britt and I went back to the hotel. It didn’t take much coercing for me to head back out and meet up with folks at the rooftop lounge at the Hotel Bennett. Britt didn’t come. He has a higher tolerance for coercion than I do. And, as an Alabama fan, he’d had a pretty rough day.

Howie got a great photo of moonlight valiantly attempting to break through the clouds.

A church steeple in Charleston illuminated at night, with the moon glowing through clouds in the sky and a rooftop bar visible in the foreground. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
The steeple of St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church is lit beautifully.

On our way out OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN AND I HAVE WITNESSES! A young handsome-in-a-Vandy-frat-bro-kind-of-way guy said, “Great mustache!” I embraced him and said, “Thank you for being the third stranger to acknowledge my mustache. I have struggled with image issues in the past, and it has taken a while for me to feel comfortable in my own skin. While I acknowledge that people should be celebrated for more than their physical characteristics, I find these random encounters to be validating. I appreciate it. No, I appreciate you.”

At least, that’s what I was trying to say. It came out as a sloppy “thanks, man.”

Hey, gimme a break. I am [redacted] years old. How many more opportunities will I get to hug random young handsome-in-a-Vandy-frat-bro-kind-of-way guys?7

Walking Tour, Take Two

Mimi met us the next morning to resume the tour. The weather was perfect, as if Charleston were apologizing for the previous day’s deluge.

A view of St. Michael's Episcopal Church in Charleston, SC.
We resumed the tour near St. Michael’s Episcopal Church. Charleston is nicknamed “The Holy City” because it has so many churches. Check out this short video I made of the bells ringing.
A group of people smiling together on Charleston’s Battery, with the harbor and a partly cloudy sky in the background. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
From left to right: Eric, Randi, Britt, me, Rich, April, Lee, Michon, and Howie. Elizabeth couldn’t join us on the walking tours because she was dealing with an injured ankle. Can’t blame her one bit. As charming as Charleston is, it’s not worth clomping around in a boot and aggravating anything!
A distant view of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, silhouetted on the horizon under a flag at half-staff, with the morning sun glittering across the water. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Fort Sumter, as seen from the Battery. Not to be confused with Fort Summer, which is located closer to MacArthur Park and has a very strict policy prohibiting people from leaving cakes out in the rain.
The Heyward-Washington House in Charleston, a Georgian brick home with black shutters and white trim, seen from across the street as a jogger passes by. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Washington slept here! It’s the Heyward-Washington House.
An old brick outbuilding on Tradd Street in Charleston, covered in ivy with a weathered wooden door marked “Private,” next to a tilted parking signpost. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Washington most certainly didn’t sleep here. In fact, it’s safe to assume there’s no historical value to this shed on Tradd Street. I just thought the ivy looked cool.

Brunchtime

After the tour, we said bye to Mimi and spent a little time before lunch enjoying the Southern live oaks and palmetto trees in Washington Park.

Three people standing on the brick path of Washington Square Park in Charleston, smiling with trees and a statue in the background. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Mimi, Randi, and Eric at the entrance to Washington Park. Mimi was everything you’d want in a tour guide: knowledgeable, responsive, and personable. She is clearly in love with her adopted hometown and wants to share her excitement with visitors. If you’re headed to Charleston and want to meet the best guide in town, reach out, and I’ll put you in contact with her.
Two people relaxing on a bench in Washington Square Park in Charleston, smiling in the sunshine with green lawns and trees behind them. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
A great photo of Rich and April.

Brunch was at Husk. I enjoyed the biscuits, pimiento cheese, and deviled eggs, but my entrees, a brisket and dirty rice bowl, was spicier than expected. Britt, Howie, Elizabeth, and I returned to the hotel to rest, while the more adventurous and caffeinated family members went out exploring.

The Last Supper (of the Trip)

Dinner was at Edmund’s Original, an upscale Southern restaurant with a Korean twist. Britt got fried chicken (delicious) and collard greens (the “We Built This City” of side dishes). I had the salt chicken with green curry and basmati rice.

When all 10 of us are together, we’re exuberant, expressive, and animated.8 Pity anyone unfortunate enough to be seated next to us in a restaurant. That night, they would have overheard overlapping conversations about road trips, current events, airport stress, grammar, children, parents, and where to meet next year. And much, much more.

If you ever get to Edmund’s, get the banana pudding. Britt, who was raised on the stuff—his grandmother would make it from scratch—said it was some of the best he’s ever had. It was topped with caramelized meringue, and the vanilla wafers certainly didn’t come out of a yellow box.

Two men at Edmund’s Original in Charleston, smiling and eating banana pudding together at the bar, with shelves of whiskey bottles behind them. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
We shared a serving of banana pudding. I was tempted to order another serving.

On the way back to the hotel, we saw the American Theater make a pitch to host Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce’s marriage.

The American Theater on King Street in Charleston, its marquee lit up at night with the message “HEY, TAY TAY! @PPHGEVENTS HEARD YOU MIGHT NEED A VENUE…” Two cars are parked in front. Alt-text generated with AI because the author is kinda lazy.
Well done, American Theater.

A Walk in the Park

I woke up early Monday and took a solo sunrise trip to Waterfront Park while everyone else was in bed. Insomnia sucks, but sunrise photos don’t.

Arched jets of water spraying from a fountain at sunrise.
Waterfront Park’s defining feature is a pineapple-shaped fountain. This isn’t it. It’s the splash fountain at the northern entrance.
Close-up of Charleston’s pineapple fountain with water cascading at dawn.
Here’s the famous Pineapple Fountain.
Man with a kick-ass mustache smiling in front of Charleston’s pineapple fountain at sunrise.
You got your pineapple in my fountain. You got your fountain in my pineapple. Hey, these go great together!
Silhouette of a man leaning on a railing, watching the sunrise.
Taking in the view.
Man leaning against a railing on a pier, with the sun rising over the water.
A sunrise smile.
Coin-operated tower viewer on the pier facing a sunrise over the water.
Tower viewer and awesome view.
Fishing boat speeding across the water at sunrise.
A good morning for fishers. A bad morning for fish.
Sunrise view through water arcs of a fountain, with a flag and pier in silhouette.
One last view of the splash fountain on my way back to the hotel. There was a sign nearby that said “No lifeguard on duty.” Good to know. I’ll stay out of the deep end.

Here’s a short video I made:

Farewells

We said goodbye to each other the next morning. Britt and I shared a ride to the airport with Howie and Elizabeth. We had enough time to get a bite at Kardea Brown‘s Southern Kitchen. It was a good (and tasty) way to wind down the trip.

There’s no better way to end this blog post than with this photo of Howie and me posing in front of Kardea Brown’s catchphrase.

Two men in an airport with a sign that says "hey cousins!" in the background.
Kendra’s catchphrase is our motto.

Till next year, y’all!

Bless My Heart. I’m Doing the Footnote Thing Again.

  1. This is technically correct (the best type of correct) because I’m referring to the Dead Sea. ↩︎
  2. cf. Joel, Billy. “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” Storm Front, Columbia Records, 17 Oct. 1989. YouTube, uploaded by YouTube, May 2009. Link here. Accessed 4 Sept. 2025. ↩︎
  3. This is true everywhere. ↩︎
  4. We bring our spouses with us because God only knows what kind of mischief they’d get up to without our supervision—or vice versa. ↩︎
  5. I asked the universe why it would do something so cruel to me. Its response: “42.” ↩︎
  6. And, like at the Charlotte Airport, it lacks a decent airport lounge. ↩︎
  7. Britt informs me that I may no longer hug handsome-in-a-Vandy-frat-bro-kind-of-way guys. Oh well. I’ll have to settle for the rest of the SEC. ↩︎
  8. I.e., loud. ↩︎