Now look at that courthouse! That is a stunningly gorgeous hunk of stone! I thought I’d make it there during the day, but I’m almost glad I didn’t arrive until evening. The illuminated stone made quite the impression on me. How could it not? This is the courthouse of an once more important city that didn’t quite make the cut. It’s not the first I’ve seen. It will not be the last.
As for the cache, it was a pill bottle in a guard rail next to a distillery. It was minorly annoying to pull it while the band inside was in full swing, and by “full swing” I mean rocking out, and by “rocking out” I mean sounding like every other crappy rock bar band on the face of the planet. If I had to classify the genre, I’d have to call it “ballcap rock,” covers that would pull in fathers remembering their college days, while at the same frat guys would have it as the backdrop for their drinking festivities. I have no doubt that if I had entered, there would have been ball caps on both the men and the women as far as the eye could see. Of course, I might be a little jaded. I spent a number of years in my youth working in bars and I’ve heard enough crappy rock, punk, and metal bands in the time that I can live the rest of my life without ever seeing another crappy bar band and die a happy man. But, then again, your mileage may vary. Besides, would going to see a band at a bar be a good idea while we’re still in a pandemic? Signs point to no, and the tragedy was that I could hear that the place was packed. Repulsed by the possibility of infection, either bodily from Covid or aurally by the crap music, I made haste back across the street to my parking spot, intent on exiting at high (but still reasonable) speed, intent on getting to…
Geocaching While Black 