I feel like Ford Prefect in Beaufort, South Carolina. Almost 10 months ago, we "crash landed" here. "Hell," we thought, "we might stay here forever! Raise a family! Golf regularly!"

It did not take us long to determine that this was not where we would raise kids, grow old, and die together. If it weren't for a repugnant culture itself, the home prices alone would drive us so far inland as to make root-growing a pointless endeavor.

We began to "soak it in" and discover this beautiful area. We discovered a lot; we discovered tons, in fact. I could write a book about this place (if dozens of excellent authors [read: Pat Conroy] hadn't already). It really is a quaint, undiscovered, gem.

Really, though, you can only "discover" so much until your efforts become an exercise in staving off boredom, hatred. I feel I'm now doing the area--from Charleston, to Savannah, to Aiken, and everything between--a great disservice. All of the things that were once wonderful, beautiful, and new now become a murky, stagnant stew of banality; stirring it does little to change the flavor for me, though the ingredients by themselves are delicious.

Ford Prefect, in the "Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy" series by Douglas Adams, was an alien hitchiker who landed on Earth to do research (for the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"...duh). Unlike all the places he went to, he spent a significant amount of time trapped on Earth. After 15 years of research, all he had to say about Earth was summed up to with the following entry: "Mostly Harmless".

It's like reading an entry about Beaufort. I recommend that you check it out, but as of July 23rd these Beaufortonians will be choking on the dust of my hasty departure. Maybe through the lens of nostalgia I'll learn to love this place again, but for now...it's known as the place that apologized to my wife because the merlot wasn't refrigerated.

"No ice necessary, thank you."