My Southern Adventure: Moving to Aiken, South Carolina
Now that I am solidly living in my middle life years, sometimes it is fun to think back and reflect on life choices I made when I was younger. The story I am thinking of today occurred when I was in my mid-20s and decided to move to Aiken, South Carolina. Looking back, I am not sure if it was my naive confidence or incredible luck (perhaps a mix of both) that made pivotal inflection points of that journey go in my favor. I know for sure that was it was one of the best life choices I have ever made, and it greatly influenced the direction my life would take.
At the time, I was a reporter for the Daily Citizen, a small rural newspaper in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. It was a great opportunity, but after a few months on the job, I realized my heart was not in reporting. I moved to Wisconsin from my home state of Washington specifically for that job and to be nearer to my extended family, but I didn't have anything keeping me there other than that. Between the reporting gig that was killing my soul and the harsh mid-west Winters that were killing my mood, when the option of moving to a warmer climate presented itself, I didn't hesitate.
The plan was pretty simple: move to Aiken with my best friend, Robyn, where we would be roommates renting a two-bedroom apartment. While she went to school to finish her bachelor's degree at USC Aiken, I would get a job at the local newspaper. Why South Carolina, you ask? Well, love, of course. Robyn was dating a guy who lived there. Robyn and I talked and made sure she wanted to move for Aiken and to live with me, not for the guy, and she assured me she did. As it so happened, they broke up before we arrived, so there you go. But, she was true to her word because the breakup didn't affect our move or our pleasure of living in Aiken. And in fact, more than two years later, I was the one moving out on her for a guy of my own.
But back to the Summer of 2003. Robyn had to finish a summer internship at a radio station in Milwaukee. So we started our moving prep online and decided I would move down first, get settled, and then come back to get her in Wisconsin. We found the cutest and most conveniently located apartment complex in Aiken called Brittany Downs. It was a newer complex located on the city's Northside— within scooting distance of a small shopping center and Aiken's Mall.
After my two-week notice at the Daily Citizen was complete, and I had done a final clean of my 1,500 square foot studio, it was time for me to pack up everything I could fit into my purple 1999 Saturn LS1 and a 4 x 8-foot U-Haul cargo trailer. Truth be told, I was shocked that the Saturn sedan had the horsepower to pull anything, let alone a trailer. But the U-Haul guy assured me it was legal and safe.
I loved my studio in Madison. It was just what I needed and not an inch more. Even though it lacked square footage, as I played Tetris in the trailer with all of my belongings, I quickly realized I had more than I thought I did. I donated all my big furniture like my desk, bed, and futon. I was living on a very tight budget, and I didn't want to replace everything when I got to Aiken. I wanted to keep as much accessory furniture, housewares, and electronics as I could, in addition to all of my clothes, personal care, and sentimental items.
This seems like a good point in this story to admit there were so many moments when I was packing, and I remember pausing and saying to myself, "what am I thinking?" It wasn't really doubt, per se, just looking at the situation objectively and acknowledging everything that could go wrong: I could hit bad weather, the car could break down, something could happen with the trailer, I could run out of money (I think I had like $300 cash total and one Chevron credit card).
As I placed the last few items in the back of the trailer, I thought to myself, "well, there is really no turning back now!" My Saturn was so weighted down. I could barely see out of any of the windows, and the rearview was, of course, obstructed by the trailer. As I started to pull out of my apartment's driveway, I kept remembering watching my dad tow his boat and our camper-trailer growing up. What I knew for sure was that I couldn't drive too fast. Going too fast could cause fish-tailing of the trailer and most likely lead to a catastrophic accident. The other thing I had to be careful of was wet pavement and traction. I tried to watch the weather forecast and pick the optimum day, but living in the Midwest, and especially the South, storms can pop up out of nowhere.
Sure enough, about an hour outside of Madison, the rain came. And not just a misting mind you. Nope, a full-on deluge. The kind of rain where the wipers are at maximum speed, and they still can't keep up. Already limiting myself to a speed of 50 miles per hour, I lowered it even more and hugged the right shoulder as if it was a life preserver. Do you know how in driving school they teach you to hold your hands on the wheel at 10 and 2? That is where mine stayed for practically the entire drive with a nerve-wracking tight grip.
Don't get me wrong. I love multi-state road trips. I had been on at least 12 by this point in my life. Some with my family and friends, some solo. I knew the basic rules of the highway: allow passing, watch out for semis, and know your exits. Then there are the road-tripping rules: coordinate your gas stops with your poddy breaks, and eat and drink as little as possible. I know that the last one isn't probably the healthiest, but it is what works for me. Oh, and always, always, have a good music playlist at the ready. Being a disabled single female, I also knew I had to have a way to get help if I needed it. Cell phones were barely on the scene in the early 2000s. I had an early generation Motorola Flip Phone that I kept in my car for emergencies only. Thankfully my cell phone service provided a AAA-like emergency service for a few extra dollars a month. Even though I was on a shoestring budget, I knew having it was a must for my safety.
It is about 1,000 miles from Madison to Aiken and should take 15 hours or so to complete. Between my cautious snail-pace driving, bad weather, and my pit stops, my journey took almost 24 hours. I remember calling my aunt just outside of Lexington, K.Y., to let her know I was okay. It was already dark out, and honestly, I thought I would be in Aiken at that point. I knew I had to reassure her that I was doing fine so she wouldn't worry even more than I knew she already was.
On the whole, I was doing fine, but damn, it was a long drive just to that point. Looking back, I'm amazed at how well I did feel, considering the events and stress of the previous 24-hours. I remember my butt was tired, that was for sure. I think between the caffeine and chocolate coursing through my veins, combined with the fact that I was so anxious about pulling the trailer, I just went into a kind of automatic pilot mode. I knew I could rest for days when I got to Aiken. I just had to get there safely.
Well, at about 6 a.m. I did arrive safely, albeit several hours later than I estimated. But resting for days had to be pre-empted a bit. After a short nap, my first order of business was getting the U-haul emptied and returned. After I got settled, my focus shifted to getting a job. I got hired as a newsroom clerk (think admin) for the Aiken Standard newspaper. Yay, I could work in a newsroom! and Yay, I didn't have to be a reporter!
For the next three years, my home was 128-G, the lower left-corner unit in a four apartment building. It had two bedrooms and two bathrooms with all the essential appliances, including a washer and dryer. The size was perfect for Robyn and me. Large enough that we had our own space, but not too big to furnish or keep clean. And when we didn't have neighbors complaining about the noise, it hosted some really fun parties. When we would be out a bar or a club, and someone would ask us where we lived, and we answered "Brittney Downs," not only would they most always know where that was exactly, but they would smile in a nod of approval. I'm not one who cares what people think, but I have to admit, I always loved that reaction.
I'll conclude with a final scene in this story I will never forget. When I got back from picking up Robyn in Wisconsin, as I was welcoming her across the threshold of our new home, we were surprised to see we already had a visitor. There, on the living room wall, was a lizard, about 6-inches long. I'm not much of an outdoorsy girl, nor am I much of a lizard girl, so needless to say, I was unprepared for the moment. I didn't have my usual "oh my god, it's a spider!" reaction, but it was close. Together we looked at each other and were like, "what do we do?" Mr. Lizard didn't seem in the mood to go anywhere, either. "Let's toss a throw pillow at it!" Robyn suggested. Since yelling "shoo" at it wasn't working, the throw pillow approach seemed a logical next step—anything not to have to touch it.
The apartment had a back door off the living room that opened up into a small patio area. The plan was that with the back door open and an accurate game of toss the pillow, we would scare it out the door and back into its natural habitat. After about the third attempt, we hit a bullseye. That final pillow knocked Mr. Lizard off the wall and then was smart (enough) to run out the open door.
Robyn and I laughed with exhaustion and relief. Welcome to the South.
