Mount Pleasant Magazine Nov/Dec 2016

37 / 146

| | 37
Now that suggestion has
become reality, and in a
way that I never would have
envisioned. Let me explain.
First, don’t forget that living
and working at the North Pole
isn’t exactly a walk on the beach
– pretty good analogy, don’t
you think? By the time I set off
on my annual world tour, the
Pole – I like to call it Memorial
Waterfront Park North – is
dark 24 hours a day. By June, of
course, the sun never sets, but try
working on your tan when an
Arctic heat wave staggers up to
only around 60 degrees.
But I digress. Truth to tell,
once my yearly Christmas
journey is completed, I’m at
loose ends for at least a few
months. Technology has arrived at the Pole, and, thanks to
high-speed computing, robotics and 3-D printing, most of
my elves have moved into supervisory positions. I’m more
or less like the CEO who spends much of his time on the
golf course, except that the permafrost where I live makes
it kind of hard to grow a green or dig a cup. Mrs. Claus
likes our new arrangement because it frees her up to knit,
bake and watch reality shows on our satellite TV. (She’s
lobbying for “Real Housewives of the Arctic Circle.”) So
the wife is happy at the North Pole, but she’s not opposed
to the occasional vacation elsewhere.
Long story short, last year I decided to turn over a new
palmetto frond, so to speak. I’d make an unannounced
visit to Mount Pleasant and see if it was as inviting as I’d
said it was when I was asked five years ago.
Getting there wasn’t as easy as it was when I simply
hopped into my sleigh, snapped a brisk command to my
eight tiny reindeer (plus Rudolph, of course) and cleared
myself for takeoff. We had to slip into Fairbanks unnoticed
to catch the first of four flights that would carry me to
Dixie. Lucky we’d had all that experience dropping off toys
without being spotted!
By the way, that’s one thing that would make Mount
Pleasant even more popular – a few direct flights from far-
flung cities into Charleston International Airport. Or maybe
it’s best that it’s tough to get there – keeps the riffraff away!
I’d booked myself a room at the Holiday Inn down by
the Ravenel Bridge so I could wake up every morning and
look out to see that shimmering span framing the entrance
to the busy harbor. Tired
from my trip, I slept in and
wandered down to the lobby
around noon.
I was astonished to see 100
or more men and women lined
up to enter the dining room.
They were all at the hotel for
something called the Mount
Pleasant Business Association.
Non-members were welcomed,
so I plunked down my
admission fee and joined the
chow line. My plate piled high
with a tasty meal, I settled in
to enjoy a guest speaker and
maybe make a few new friends.
I was enjoying a pleasant
conversation with an attractive
woman at my table – I believe
she was an actuary – when a
gregarious gentleman across from me called out, “Hey
there. You in the whiskers. You’re new around here, aren’t
you?”
Cautious about revealing my identity, I quickly made
up a story.
“The beard’s for the annual Ernest Hemingway look-
alike competition in Key West. I thought I’d take a few
days off en route to see what your town is like.”
Next thing I knew, this fellow – his name was Bill – had
rearranged the seating and pulled up alongside me, talking
a mile a minute. I didn’t catch his line of work, but he sure
knew a lot about Mount Pleasant.
Between the main course and dessert, he’d set me up
with David Kent, a Realtor® who only works with buyers,
and a broker from The Mortgage Network to find me a
“getaway” home I could enjoy as a “sandbird.” I didn’t dare
tell him how spot-on that label was!
This Bill guy was a real cheerleader for Mount Pleasant,
but, when it came down to the nuts and bolts of setting
myself up as a warm weather resident, his colleague Denise
was a treasure trove of information. Denise offered to walk
me to my car, which was slightly embarrassing because I
didn’t have one. I’d taken Uber from the airport.
“No problem,” she said, steering me to Enterprise to
rent some wheels.
Then she started to reel off a list of “the best of ” in
Mount Pleasant, from doctors to lawyers to skate stores to
a veterinarian – but I’ll bet that doc doesn’t treat too many
caribou cousins in his practice. Bill phoned her while we