No! It has nothing to do with liquor. It’s about my thrifty behavior. Case in point: Last week Toko, G, and I were going to South Carolina to see my kids. And due to the usual problems of aircraft maintenance, the first leg of our flight was delayed, which caused us to miss our connecting flight. We were stuck in Charlotte, NC, until the next morning.

Since it was already early evening, I needed to find a hotel close to the airport. The Sheraton was $400; the Holiday Inn Express was $255; CIS (you figure it out) was $100 with free shuttle and free breakfast. Now, I’d stayed at this chain in other parts of the country and found it decent, so I booked it.

“Do you need help with your luggage,” the hotel clerk asked.

“No, thank you. It’s on the airplane. But we need some necessaries, like toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hair brush, and we need to get something to eat.”

“Well, there’s a restaurant in this parking lot, an Arby’s down the street, and a 7-11. Or you can walk across the street. There’s a restaurant, a Food Lion, and a Dollar Store.

We dumped our meager belongings in our small, first floor room and went in search of food. Obviously, the desk clerk was a new hire, because the restaurant had been closed for over a year. So we walked toward Arby’s. An old guy ventured across the street (a freaking, six-lane highway), “Where you gals going? You can’t go to Arby’s it’s closed down. You can go to that good Southern Greek one across the street.”

“Across this highway? With all this speeding traffic? No thank you!”

“C’mon. I’ll take y’all. Let’s go.”

Somehow, we miraculously fast-paced it across. He disappeared as we entered the “good” restaurant, where I was overwhelmed by its odor! “I can’t eat here; let’s go to the grocery and scrounge up something edible.” With a pre-packaged appetizer tray, three cans of beer, toothbrushes with tooth paste paid for, we approached the roaring, six-lane nightmare. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, we heard:

“Hey! How’d you like your dinner?” Our safety patrol escort yelled.

“We went to the grocery instead.”

“They’ve got really good food there. I usually get crackers and a drink. See that car over there? That’s where I live. I’m homeless, and I’ve fallen on hard times right now.” No duh. You only have three or four teeth, too.

“So, I was wondering if you could help me out.”

I fumbled through my purse in search of a twenty but instead mistakenly pulled out a US Grant and handed it to him.

“Oh, thank you! No one has ever….”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hey, let me give you a hug.” Thankfully, he neither smelled bad, nor tried to kiss my cheek. And thankfully, the three of us made it back across the street to our hovel. We sat outside around the decrepit, filthy swimming pool after finding three, usable chairs and noshed. We admired the size of the roaring, low-flying planes as they prepared to land every three minutes. In spite of the broken toilets, water-stained ceiling tiles, questionable electric plugs, and a dearth of coffee and food at the “free” breakfast, we laughed a lot.

“Sue, if there’s a next time, let’s stay at The Sheraton.”

“Sure, G. If you’re paying!” By the way, there is no substantial evidence to verify this Scottish stereotype. My kinfolk may be frugal, but they’re just saving for good whisky! Cheers.