Saluda

My wife Liz and I recently went to a friend's wedding on Daufuskie Island off the coast of South Carolina. We planned to be there most of the work week, so we made a vacation out of it.
Our first stop was Russ and Nancy's house in Traveler's Rest, a city on the border of the two Carolinas. To get to their house, the only direction to drive is up. I twisted around hairpin turns and coaxed my SUV up steep inclines. The views are gorgeous, but the ascent makes my car wheeze and sputter like a smoker climbing Everest. At the final turn, we stopped as a family of black bears crossed the street. This was the closest I've ever been to a bear, and despite the space between us, I felt nervous. I'm sure they were more scared of me than I was of them, but that logic didn't set in until after the bears had gone their merry way without mauling us.
Russ and Nancy us in the driveway and helped bring our things inside. They had a cheese tray ready, and Russ made Moscow Mules to drink while we watched the Kentucky Derby. Vacation was on.
That evening we went to Saluda, a town that looks like a postcard come to life. "Downtown" is comprised of a set of train tracks, a police station, and a few small storefronts. We had dinner in one those storefronts, at a restaurant called the Purple Onion.
We ate in an outdoor area next to a fanciful garden and a building that looks like an apartment complex for fairy tale characters. After dinner, we went inside for some live music. A local band was playing, and we lucked into a table in front of the stage. We sang along to a festive rendition of "Come On Eileen." Our enthusiasm must’ve made an impression because the band asked Liz to model a t-shirt. She was reluctant, eventually she caved.
Liz went to the restroom to change. It's worth noting that the bathrooms are in the back of the restaurant, directly in the center. This means that everyone in the dining area can see who goes in and comes out of the bathroom.
When Liz emerged in the tight green shirt, she caught my eye and signaled thumbs up, then thumbs down. I gave her the thumbs up and she laughed hard. The band introduced her and she model-walked in front of the stage, then returned to the table.
"What was so funny?" I asked.
"Six guys behind you also gave me the thumbs up," she said. Oh, Saluda. Never change.
I was sorry to leave, but the trip had to go on. Saluda is a whimsical place—a warm little universe where no one is a stranger. We'll go back one day. I'm sure of it.