Okay, so our little Floyd follow-up didn't result in the kind of rollicking adventures that enrich the blog. Instead, it consisted of three long days scouring Eastern Carolina for witnesses of the water that was. We found 'em, but it wasn't easy. Luckily, Buckley and I know our way around Downeast and together we called in every favor, contact and drifter we know. Along the way, we (I) drove 865 miles - from the smelliest flood plain to the continent's edge (pictured above). Did I mention it was a thousand degrees? It sure felt like it. But what my home region lacked in autumnal splendor it more than made up for in solid citizenry. Old acquaintances, total strangers, extended frenemies - all made time for one sweaty news crew and a few goofy questions.
That includes a few folks we didn't put on tee-vee, for Bob and I couldn't crisscross the TV Land we once both toiled in without looking up a few of its superstars. Hoffman, Fox, Bailey, Cowell, Sawyer, Anderson - it was great seeing you ALL. As for that photo above, Buckley's the consummate reporter, see, and can't even enjoy a walk on the beach with his third-favorite photog without stopping to grill a few starfish. That, or he was just trying to hear the ocean. Either way, I told him he could get the same effect by holding a seashell up to his ear. That's when he launched into a soliloquy about grains of sand and the gritty nature of Copernicus. Gotta love that Bob...
1 comment:
I gotta tell you boy you went home loaded and belted out three good posts. It was good to visit with you abeit brief. I stacking up some nonsense in my head for a c/p post in the near future. Seeya, Crookedpaw
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