Vegas Trip (Day1): That Pork is NOT Pulled!

So here we are, my pets, sitting in the airport, ready for my journey to Vegas with Colleen and the boys. It's been a while since I have flown, actually. My most recent time was spent finishing up my last "project," and travel was largely out of he question.

Anywho, Colleen was set to leave from Dulles on a direct flight, and I was set to fly out of BWI. Paul and Rob were flying in from LA yesterday after their (get this) pre-hiatus diversion in Cabo. (Must be freakin' nice.)

So today as I ventured back into flying and did a little people watching, I soon realized that when people switch into travel mode, they turn into something different — a sort of travel doppleganger that really doesn't reflect who that person is. I'm guilty, of course, with my bespoke sport shirt and fashion, all-white sunglasses (worn indoors, of course). I'm sporting my mechanical Armani watch (I NEVER wear watches), and have unbuttoned my second button on my shirt — sassy just doesn't describe. But I digress...

I look around at the 50-year-old, over-tanned grandpa wearing Hollister clothes, and notice that even the sleeping tree hugger splay out on the bench has switched out her Birkenstocks for a sporty pair of Pumas. It was only the beginning, I guessed.

By the time I got to BWI, I learned that Colleen had been "detained" by TSA and delivered to the Police (as I understood it). Yes, the fun had begun, it seems. It appears even her doppleganger had reared its ugly head. I couldn't get all the details, but I'm sure it is worth the wait until I make it to Vegas.

Anyway, I made it to my connection in Charlotte with a little time to spare, and I thought, "how could I be in NC at lunchtime, and not get a NC BBQ sandwich??" (It is, after all, my favorite food...EVER.) My home state has changed so much since my childhood, but I could always count on good ol' NC BBQ pork. So, I stood in line at Siler City BBQ, and salivated my turn.

NC BBQ, you see, (to be authentic) must have the following qualities:

1) It must be CHOPPED (not pulled or sliced)
2) It must be pork
3) It must be served in a vinegar-based sauce, not a sweet sauce - we are NOT in Tennessee.
4) It is, by default, served with coleslaw, heavy on the mayo
5) To be TRULY authentic, it must include a type of cornbread that most of the country refers to as "hushpuppies," but in Eastern NC, true swampland natives call it "corn dodgers," and the cornmeal will include onions.

All of the above was present, except for #1 and #3 — the two most important. The mofos had the audacity to serve it pulled and with a sweet ketchup-like sauce. I actually complained to the manager, who happened to be the owner. He was a yankee. (I think he actually HEARD my eyes roll.) Yet again, a doppleganger on a trip away from home, trying to be someone he wasn't. I just sighed and moved on to gate B3. It just wasn't worth the effort.