The sound of the old man singing still lingered on River Street in the morning air. He had been singing on the street for tips the night before.We were having breakfast at Huey's less than two hundred feet from the Savannah River. The huge container ship blocked out the morning sun as it moved slowly upriver with its accompanying tug boats. Only the low of rumble of powerful diesels broke the morning silence. We were hungry and the menu was loaded with a vast variety of eggs benedict and various omelets. But for me it was simple fare. I decided on two eggs scrambled with bacon and cheese grits. The eggs were not of the free range variety and lacked fluff. I like my scrambled eggs fluffy. The grits with melted cheese on top were served in a bowl. It's akin to southern culinary sacrilege to serve grits this way. Does only Waffle House know how to serve grits properly? Grits served on a plate cool at the same rate as eggs and don't stay hot forever like they do in a bowl. The thick-cut bacon was spot on, great taste and little salt.
We finished our meal and decided on a walk by the river.
There wasn't much action. The revelers whom I heard at 2 am were sleeping late. A man fished from the rail near the paddle-wheel boat tied up nearby. We continued to walk, meeting joggers and dog walkers. Near the large ship's anchor dedicated to merchant seamen there seemed to be a hubbub of activity. Claudette and I stopped to investigate.
There was a photographer photographing a model. I found this quite fascinating. Claudette did not share my fascination. My interest is not just some old man's interest in pretty girls. It's the process of capturing an image for commercial use that I like. It takes a team effort. Not just a photographer and model but other team members. The photographer directs the process. He picks the location and directs the model. Then, there is the lady who arranges the model's clothes and the one with makeup kit retouching the model's makeup. There is a young man pulling a small cart hauling a small generator. The generator is needed to power the fan which blows the long blonde tresses of the model. Oh, yes, there is an assistant to operate the fan. It is amusing to watch the model cycle through her repertoire of poses, robot-like, as the shutter of the camera clatters. The entourage moved along Factors Walk with more posing and photographing a tall skinny girl in black stretch pants, very high heels, and white blouse. Her pretty child-like face was framed by long blonde hair. At one point the model was on a vintage bicycle.
I enjoyed watching, but I was reminded that we needed to check out of the River Street Inn to return home.
There wasn't much action. The revelers whom I heard at 2 am were sleeping late. A man fished from the rail near the paddle-wheel boat tied up nearby. We continued to walk, meeting joggers and dog walkers. Near the large ship's anchor dedicated to merchant seamen there seemed to be a hubbub of activity. Claudette and I stopped to investigate.
There was a photographer photographing a model. I found this quite fascinating. Claudette did not share my fascination. My interest is not just some old man's interest in pretty girls. It's the process of capturing an image for commercial use that I like. It takes a team effort. Not just a photographer and model but other team members. The photographer directs the process. He picks the location and directs the model. Then, there is the lady who arranges the model's clothes and the one with makeup kit retouching the model's makeup. There is a young man pulling a small cart hauling a small generator. The generator is needed to power the fan which blows the long blonde tresses of the model. Oh, yes, there is an assistant to operate the fan. It is amusing to watch the model cycle through her repertoire of poses, robot-like, as the shutter of the camera clatters. The entourage moved along Factors Walk with more posing and photographing a tall skinny girl in black stretch pants, very high heels, and white blouse. Her pretty child-like face was framed by long blonde hair. At one point the model was on a vintage bicycle.
I enjoyed watching, but I was reminded that we needed to check out of the River Street Inn to return home.
