We got real rural, real quick Saturday afternoon when we headed out to Legare Farms for the Battle of Charleston. Now in its 11th year, this reenactment showcases numerous conflicts in American history — from the Revolutionary War to Vietnam. We arrived too late to see the Civil War skirmish and World War II event, but we were there for the Vietnam fire fight. Rather than dodging the Viet Cong, however, we found ourselves dodging cow patties in the pastures where the battles played out. The reenactors were all down to earth, though some were not especially friendly. A gentleman dressed in 18th-century garb got surly with us when we tried to take his picture chugging a Pepsi and downing a hot dog. Then again, if we were in six wars in one weekend, we’d would be pretty pissed off too. Meanwhile, there were pirates in attendance who demonstrated the proper way to fire a cannon. And if you were wondering, the technique is much like one would expect. Aim, light fuse, repeat. It’s really as easy as wash, rinse, repeat — but louder. Upon leaving, we nearly ran over some pigs, the only near fatality at the Battle of Charleston.

That night, we had dinner at Rue de Jean before sliding next door to the Charleston Music Hall for the Groundhog Day Concert fundraiser. The Halsey Institute presented an evening with some of Charleston’s best musicians. We’re sure that everyone on stage could play the accordion like a champ even if they had never picked one up before — all of which left us wondering what we did in college. It was en route to the concessions stand when we remembered.

The concert opened with a marionette performance from puppeteer Will Schutze (of Mr. Bonetangles fame) that seemed like a live-action Tim Burton movie. Then the musicians took the stage. The standouts were definitely Michael Flynn and Lindsay Holler. The entire performance seemed well-rehearsed but off-the-cuff, a great little show. And we would have stayed through the entire final song if we hadn’t thought the front row was romancing the idea to mosh.

On Super Bowl Sunday we started out at Stingray’s Hall of Famer Dave Seitz’s house party, a coveted invite if only to see the former hockey player’s personalized bobble-heads. Yea, we were jealous. After a halftime break, we ventured to Bay Street Biergarten to witness the wing-eating contest. Milk was poured to counteract the sauce, which brought back memories. We were, in fact, immortalized on the Quaker Steak and Lube wall in Charlotte for eating their atomic wings. Suffice it to say, during my our own wing-eating contest, the restaurant was out of milk, so we drank chocolate sauce. We’re not proud of it. Sadly, we’ve had acid reflux ever since. As for Biergarten’s competition, some contestants got so worked up they lost their shirts, proving the Garten was clearly place to be to witness the fall of the Legion of Boom.

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