After spending 45 minutes listening to the Beetles and talking to a very jovial, eccentric, and extremely talkative red-headed Uber driver named Jimmy (whom turned out to be a knowledgeable farmer), I found myself stepping out into the tiny town of Ramseur, NC.
I had picked that day (October 15th) of all days to visit, specifically because there was a Fall Festival going on from 9:00 am -5:00 pm. And, sure enough, the well-preserved downtown historical district was filled to the brim with white tents selling lots of colorful stuff — and people. Mostly stressed-out moms with cute, hyperactive kids. But also a few old couples and –get this– real-life boy scouts. Which I’d never seen out of a movie before. Trading stares was fun.
Later on, after walking along the street up and down a couple of times taking pictures, I decided to stop and buy a bag of fresh, fried pork skins. If only because, out of all the things being offered, they seemed to be the less common Fair food-type option. And also because the bulky lady selling them had a no-nonsense attitude I liked. So I chose a bag of yummy-looking, warm crisps, handed her a $5 bill and asked her right off the bat if she knew of any place where I could get some serious local Ramseur food.
“There’s the one MacDonald’s ‘round the corner. And the new Burger King too.”
Straight-faced, no nonsense reply.
I cocked my head to the side like a dog and blinked. Then smiled, thanked her and moved on.
A few tents down the street, a tired-looking boy-scout mom I talked to said the same thing to me.
So did an old couple who appeared to be selling posters or signs, another couple selling beautifully carved staffs and a guy handing out church pamphlets. Though I guess that last one felt sorry for me, because he told me I could try going to Amelia’s (information which a young couple I met in a parking lot later confirmed to be valid) before walking off.
That’s how the good-natured policeman found me. Hair flying, looking totally lost, and yet purposefully walking across a street with no crosswalk towards Sherry’s.
Yep. Sherry’s, not Amelia’s. Because… it’s me. And because their street sign promised a home-cooked meal. Which Amelia’s, as far as I could tell, did not guarantee.
First, he scared the hell out of me by honking right as I was attempting to cross another street. Then he offered me a ride, and took me to BOTH Shelly’s (which was closed) and Amelia’s (also closed), before driving me back to the Fall Festival. How nice is that? I could’ve hugged him! But settled with giving him my bag of fried skins instead. His eyes sparked a bit.
I think he was pleased.
People there are so nice… Shame everything closes at 2:00 pm on weekends!. Oh well…
Back in the Festival, I walked down the street once more and bought my first ever funnel cake. Dear god. How can something that looks like a squishy, yellow brain taste so good? I know I must have looked like a savage wolfing it down. Powdered sugar and all. Hehe’s what a complete, utter, happy mess! And with that live banjo music on the background… yikes.
An awesome, fitting end to my wanderings around Ramseur.