At the North Carolina State Capitol. MARY ANNE CARTER
When my girlfriend, Mary Anne, suggested I accompany her to Charlotte, North Carolina, to meet her family and help move her childhood things out of her dad’s garage, I somehow wasn’t listening to the “North Carolina” part.
The only place in the South I’d been was New Orleans, where I had sex with a woman in a pool five feet away from a hot tub where two men were having sex, surrounded by people lying around naked on lawn chairs who didn’t care enough to lift their sunglasses. I figured my experience in North Carolina would differ from this scenario, but honestly I hadn’t been watching the news. Mary Anne told me Charlotte was like Bellevue, so I imagined it as sort of a fancy strip mall featuring narration by William Faulkner…
