No band, no problem

I had some tasty lemonade on Friday night.
I was at the Chrisette Michele show at Grand Central. It was after 10:30, and neither Michele nor her opening act had been on stage yet. In fact, her opener never made it to the show.
And that was a problem, since singer Peter Hadar and his band also had planned to back up Michele during her set.
Unfortunately, he and all but two of his band's members were in Virginia Beach, and were so behind schedule driving to Charlotte that promoter Mike Kitchen said he told them not to come. Only two members -- who drove separately -- made it.
So instead of performing with a full band, Michele and her background singers did their thing with two musicians and instrumental tracks.
Michele, a Def Jam artist, is known for singing hooks with Jay-Z and Nas. This was her first Charlotte appearance, and she was promoting her new album “I Am.”
Once Michele took the stage about 11:30 p.m., the crowd forgot the long wait and it looked as if everyone knew all six of the songs she sang. The show only lasted about 25 minutes, but the capacity crowd seemed satisfied.
Despite the glitches, Michele filled the stage with gracious energy and gave fans an intimate show worth talking about. She didn’t complain. She served lemonade that quenched fans’ thirst for soulful R&B.
Did you go to the show? What did you think? Post your replies below.

Q Tip opening for Common

Rapper Q Tip, of a A Tribe Called Quest, will open for Common.
The two will be performing at Amos Southend on Sept. 27. Common's new album, "Finding Forever."
Advance tickets are $35 and are on sale. www.amossouthend.com.

Common returning to Charlotte

After a blazing show in May, rapper Common is returning to Charlotte. He will be performing at Amos Southend on Sept. 27. Common's new album, "Finding Forever," came out July 31 and peaked at No. 1 on the charts. It's No. 7 this week. According to www.thesoulmovement.com, "a very special guest will open." No other details have been released.

Advance tickets are $35, and go on sale Monday. www.amossouthend.com.

SlamCharlotte No. 1 in the country

I’m in Dallas stuck on yet another hot American airplane waiting for a mechanic to check out a fuel problem. I’m heading back to Charlotte from Las Vegas. This is the third time in two trips that I’ve been on an American plane that’s had mechanical issues.

Evil is an understatement.
Plus, the two women next to me won’t stop talking. But before I completely tune them out, I hear one say she attended the National Poetry Slam competition in Austin. She says our city's representative, SlamCharlotte, kicked booty.

Winning the championship has been four years in the making for a team that started with Terry Creech’s vision and blossomed under Slam master Bluz. Each year, they’ve placed in the Top 10. (Since Creech launched the slam team, locals like Bluz and JC the Poet have developed a strong scene with poetry at Wine Up, Spirit Square and at one point the Jazz Cafe.)

This year, Charlotte sent SlamCharlotte and Respect the Mike, which included Maze, Q and Filmore. SlamCharlotte’s winning team consisted of Charlotte’s Bluz, Carlos Robeson and Mike Simms, along with Beth Sheba from Atlanta and Paul D of Albany, Ga. (who replaced an ill Da’ Minister of Columbia, S.C.).

“After going through so many years of being so close, (it's sweet) to finally actually get it, and know that you really fought hard and really earned it,” Bluz said.

Now that Charlotte has a championship, Bluz said the team’s next goal is to win again - of course - and introduce more people to slam poetry. You can hear them on Power 98 at 8:50 a.m. on Friday, or see them perform at Wine Up on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (The Wine Up crowd is late, so don’t arrive before 9 p.m.; you might even be safe getting there after 11). The next SlamCharlotte event is at 7 p.m. on Aug. 24 at McGlohon Theatre in Spirit Square.

Partying, working and camping

I’ve spent the past 10 days camping, partying and working in the Southwest. My trip started with camping for two days in the Grand Canyon’s north rim and two days near Lake Powell in Page, Arizona. I finished with four days in Las Vegas for the National Association of Black Journalists convention.

In these next few blogs, you’ll get to share a little of my vacation and get my tips in case you ever head this way. Tip No. 1: Don’t fly American. They’re the worst.

Partying in Rum Jungle

One of my goals in Las Vegas was to see as many spots as I could. After all, Las Vegas's Peppermill Lounge was James Funderburk’s inspiration for the fire pits at Tonic. And Sin City's Ice, now closed, was an inspiration for the Forum.

When we arrived at the door of Rum Jungle in the Palm hotel, the line wasn't short. But Creative Loafing's Carlton Hargro paid the door lady $40 bucks to let us in through the VIP line.

Rum Jungle is an uber-club.
It’s spacious and open, so you can see and be seen. When you walk inside, water glides down the front wall. Sofas and ottomans line the front section, and were perfect for escaping the crowded bar and dance floor.

A long bar split the club into two sections. On each side of the bar were sofas and booths, which seemed like VIP areas. Many partiers had bottles of champagne or liquor at their tables. Four cages containing go-go dancers hung from the ceiling. Another dancer worked the catwalk above the bar. To get to the dance floor, you had to walk past the bar and up a few stairs. Two smaller waterfall walls separated the dance floor from the other sections. Two guys played drums and percussion along with the music that the DJ spun.

The National Association of Black Journalists' task force rented Rum Jungle for Thursday’s party, so the vibe was extra-hype. In Charlotte, we have a healthy black professional party scene, but the NABJ convention draws journalists from cities that don’t. So on Thursday, hundreds of black journalists eagerly took over Rum Jungle.

My only complaint was the DJ. He played enough of a song to let you say, “That’s my s…” But then he'd prematurely start up another song. Annoying. He had deep stacks, and played everything from Luther Vandross to Stevie Wonder to DJ Unk -- but partiers didn’t get to truly enjoy his collection.

Shrimp scampi and bellydancing

When we arrived at Marrakech restaurant on Thursday night, our waiter gave each of us hand towels instead of napkins. He placed a large bowl in the center of the table. We held our hands over the bowl as he poured warm water over them.

I'd never been to restaurant so concerned about the cleanliness of their patrons’ hands. When the waiter brought our platter of shrimp scampi, the first of six courses, I understood why. He explained that we should eat the shrimp with our fingers and use the bread to soak up the butter sauce.

We dove in. The shrimp was so good, but we didn’t want to stuff ourselves with the bread. But I swear, if I had a straw I would have slurped up the butter sauce.

By the time the belly dancer jiggled from behind a curtains into the restaurant, we were on our fourth course.
When my new friend Robert first pitched the idea of going to a belly-dancing restaurant for dinner, I drooled over the idea of watching such a beautiful art form while eating. But after putting down the tasty shrimp scampi, a Moroccan salad - marinated vegetables dipped in the best hummus I’ve had ever - and lentil soup, I’d forgotten about the dancer.

The food was so good that I ran out of buttons to unbutton on my pants, but Robert’s friend Charmagne still had enough energy to shake a lil’ sumthin’-sumthin’ with the dancer. The belly dancer worked her away around the restaurant, which had about 20 customers. She smiled, winked and cajoled a stunned crowd into applauding after she did the most hypnotic hip-shimmy move. She moved so fast, yet the movement seemed subtle.

We finished our meal with well-seasoned and tender beef kabobs (tasted as good as the buffalo, and was cheaper), followed by Cornish hen and couscous (we did get a fork for the hen and dessert). We shared dessert, a pastry the size of a dinner plate that reminded me of baklava. We each also received a warm cup of mint tea.

If you go to Marrakech, slightly off The Strip, bring your appetite. Each night’s menu is set, so if you’re a picky eater this isn’t the place for you. It costs $37.

A conga line in a German restaurant

When my friends and I walked inside the cavernous Hofbrauhaus restaurant, we heard a band rocking a German song. As we sat down, members of the Rothseepower German band - many of the guys didn’t speak English - raised liter-sized mugs in the air and yelled “Ein Prosit!”

We looked around wondering what the bleep was going on.
After one bock beer and an order of brats and pretzels, I had my mug in the air yelling “Ein Prosit, oi, oi!” with everyone else. Before the night was over, a German tourist would chug a beer on stage, a conga line would snake through the restaurant, a couple of girls would join the band on stage, and we all would dance to Rothseepower singing “Proud Mary” - at our table’s request.

It was Wednesday, and my first night in Las Vegas after camping for four days. It only got better.

Buffalo meat and weak beer

If you ever go to Kanab, Utah, try the buffalo at the Rocking V Cafe on West Center Street. It’s a restaurant downstairs, and the Rafters Gallery is upstairs. I ended up joining two women -- one from New Jersey and the other (her cousin) from Florida -- who were sharing a bottle of wine and a meal.

I stopped in Kanab to get one good night’s sleep in a hotel before four nights of tent camping at the Grand Canyon’s north rim and near Lake Powell in Page, Arizona. The cousins were there because each year they bring their daughters to volunteer at the Best Friends sanctuary, an animal rescue facility. Along with walking and feeding all types of animals, the women and their kids take road trips throughout the area. They loved Zion National Park, but said the actual Salt Lake was a dried-up, fly-infested disappointment.

One of these road trips ended with the women sharing a bottle of wine at Rocking V Cafe instead of sipping ice-cold brews. While cruising through small towns and national parks, the two knocked back three Coronas and didn’t feel a thing (not something I recommend, but I’m just telling you the story).

At Rocking V, Victor Cooper, the owner’s husband, explained to my dinner partners that in Utah, the alcohol content in beer is so low it’s like drinking O’Doul’s.

Cooper, an affable guy who chatted up new and regular customers about the food and their visit to Kanab, convinced us to try the buffalo tenderloin.

I’d never eaten buffalo before. It was tender and more robust than filet mignon, but it wasn’t worth $36. Rocking V -- which reminded me of 300 East -- seemed to be the most expensive restaurant in Kanab. Most of the other places were diners or cheap Mexican and Italian restaurants.

I followed dinner with the bread pudding. Not good. To sum up: Try the buffalo; avoid the bread pudding; stick with wine; and watch out for the two crazy cousins who make Thelma and Louise look tame.

Partying at Tangerine

When we walked inside of Treasure Island hotel, a man handed us free passes to Tangerine nightclub. The line for the club stretched back into the casino area on Friday.

We hopped into the VIP line. I showed the guy my ID and he asked for my VIP card. I gave him a $20. He let us in. (I learn fast. Sookie sookie, now!)

Tangerine was a mixed bag.
The crowded dance floor dominated the club. There’s a drum kit above the bar, but no one played while we were there. Every now and then, women danced on the bar. Women also danced on platforms in the two large VIP lounge areas. Tangerine had my favorite DJ of the weekend. He knew how to mix, and spun Top 40, smatterings of rock, classic hip-hop, and hip-hop songs I’d never heard before - a rarity in today’s club scene.

But Tangerine is wannabe posh. It had the look, but the floor was sticky as heck and the people were kind of scraggly-looking.

Not craving Krave

The DJ was killing me.
During Girl Bar, a weekly lesbian party held in a section of Krave dance club (kind of like the Forum’s Pravda lounge), the DJ played “Survivor,” Janet Jackson's “All for You,” Nelly’s “Hot in Herre,” and a bunch of other dusty hits over the course of at least an hour.

I finally asked if she had any contemporary music. She looked offended. Whatever.
I told her everything she was playing was at least two or three years old. She said people had been telling her that all night. Um, hello. Change your music then. She didn’t.

Her whack skills put a damper on an already weak party.
Still, the spot was cute, especially compared to the places where most lesbian parties take place. In Charlotte, we’re lucky to have the parties at Wine Up, but the other spots are booty.

Despite the bad deejaying, most of the 50-75 women in attendance got their $15 worth and danced. The partiers were a mix of locals and tourists of all ages and ethnicities. One group of women paraded around as if they were the cutest women in the spot. (They weren’t that cute, but the pickings were slim.)

Two go-go dancers worked the stage. One tried to undulate on a pole that was so rickety it looked as if it would fall over if she held it too tightly.

By the way, there are also weekly Girl Bar parties in Los Angeles, Chicago and Palm Springs. (I hope those are better than the one in Vegas.)

Lessons from camping and Las Vegas

1) Take dry ice. It lasts way longer than regular ice. The secret is to put it in a plastic bag on the bottom of your cooler, line the dry ice with regular ice, then pile your stuff on top. On a related note, if you have a choice between block and chipped ice, block lasts longer.

2) Don’t ever rent a PT Cruiser. It has to be the most underpowered car on the face of this Earth. The rental guy at Payless tried to warn me, but I’m cheap, and I figured he was trying to sell me on a pricier upgrade.

3) If you’re planning to camp somewhere new, research whether there are any state or national parks nearby. When I went to Lake Powell, I stayed at an RV campground. I basically had a big patch of hot sand in the middle of a concrete parking lot. The water in the indoor pool was greener than Kermit. (I swam anyway -- I'm preparing for a triathlon sprint.) However, 10 minutes away was Lake Powell in Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. You literally can camp on Lone Rock Beach at the lake. I chilled there for the day. Best part was laying out on the beach. Worse part was the guy next to me blasting heavy metal from his Honda Accord. Ignorant.

4) Don’t try to drive a PT Cruiser in soft sand. I got stuck twice. The first time, a couple pushed me out. The second time, a nice guy from Utah pulled me out with his gigantic pickup.

5) It is not cheap to party in Las Vegas. You can’t take a cab ride anywhere for less than $10, including the tip. Most places charged a $15-$20 cover. And one beer cost $9. Criminal.

6) Don’t eat at the Sidewalk Café in Bally’s in Las Vegas. The food is average and the service is horrible.
7) If you have a large group in Las Vegas, the buffets are a good way to eat. They have food stations with cooks who make soups, steaks and omelets to order.

Talib show cancelled

In an email, promoter Mike Kitchen announced that Wednesday's Talib Kweli show at the Neighborhood Theatre has been cancelled, but will be rescheduled.

Beyonce did the darn thang!

An all-female band, thick sisters as background singers and a non-stumbling Beyonce filling the stage.
That was the scene on Sunday at Bobcats Arena as thousands of folks screamed and danced during a nearly two-hour performance that was part girl-power, self-love and romantic-love.

I wasn’t sure how much of Beyonce's hip-shaking I could take, but she balanced her signature moves with routines by dancers and solos by band members. I can’t stop raving about the all-female band, made up mostly of women of color. It sent such a strong message to the thousands of young girls in the audience.

Beyonce gave plenty of space during, before and after songs for each member to shine.
The best was the blond-dredlocked bassist who played OutKast’s “So Fresh, So Clean,” the hook to “Get Money,” and other fan favorites. She finished her solo by playing the bass behind her head and giving it a long lick.

During the nearly two-hour set, Beyonce played every hit from her albums, as well as Destiny’s Child favorites and songs from the “Dreamgirls” soundtrack. The best were “Get Me Bodied,” “Irreplaceable” (which she dedicated to men and women who’ve been hurt in relationships), and “Dangerously in Love” (which she blended with Jill Scott’s “You Love Me”).

Her cheesiest moment of the night was crying at the end of “That’s Why I Love You.” She cried after singing the song in ATL as well, so you know she's just putting her acting skills to use.

Her best moment of the night was when she wiped her face with a towel she then gave to a guy wearing a white golf shirt. She told him that he was her biggest fan, and she’d watched him sing all the songs and do all of the choreography to the dances. She made sure security handed the young man the towel. The gesture said a lot about how she cares about her fans, and how she paid attention to her audience. Nice.

I’m not a huge fan of Robin Thicke, who opened with a respectable 30-plus-minute opening set, in which he played piano during some songs. He’s cute as all get out and I love “Lost Without U,” but the blue-eyed soul singer has little singing ability.

Did you go to the concert? What did you think? Post your replies below.

Did Menage shoot itself in the foot?

In my New Year’s prediction last year, I said Menage would be the place to watch because it had changed so much since opening in 2004.

In 2006, it went from being a premier nightspot to adding a restaurant on the second floor – weird – to allowing black promoters to book prime weekend nights (often a sign of money problems).

The reported sale of Menage is dramatic considering the hype surrounding the club’s opening. Before The Forum opened, Menage was the hotness, with three levels, posh lounge areas and a giant slide.

But drama also surrounded Menage from the git-go.
Not long after opening, there was a flap between owner Stefan Latorre and well-known local DJ Niz -- Niz said he wasn't compensated for being a consultant for Menage, while Latorre said Niz never worked for the club. Niz's backers began an e-mail campaign urging people not to go there; the note also alleged that Latorre snubbed two owners of the trendsetting Cosmos Cafe who had stopped by Menage's grand opening to congratulate him.

In the spring of 2005, the club came under fire when it stopped playing hip-hop on Fridays, a night which had been drawing a predominately black crowd.

Then later that year came the biggest of the controversies: A promoter accused the club of racial bias after the cancellation of a party that drew mostly blacks. The Charlotte-Mecklenburg Community Relations Committee cleared the club of any wrongdoing.

Not long after that PR fiasco, Latorre denied rumors that he was trying to sell the club and he turned the second floor into the restaurant Belle’s BBQ.

He also began reaching out more to black promoters. In recent months, Adolph R. Shiver had begun hosting parties there featuring various rap artists. This is significant because historically, many white Charlotte club owners have allowed black promoters to host parties at their venues to raise cash; it happened at Time (which is now closed), Liquid Lounge, and Crush, which is now a mostly hip-hop club. (Insiders tell me the reason that financially strapped clubs do this is because blacks, especially young ones, spend loads of money at bars.)

The fall of Menage is unfortunate. Had it been able to thrive alongside The Forum, it would have made Charlotte an even bigger regional draw and strengthened our nightlife overall. It’s hard for a city with only one upscale dance club to be a real nightlife destination.
Latorre hasn't responded to an e-mail request confirming the sale of the club and on his decision to sell the venue.)

Do you think all of the negative incidents killed Menage, or is Charlotte not big enough for two huge dance clubs? Post your replies below.

Menage sold - surprise, surprise

Menage’s tumultuous ride as a premiere nightclub has ended. James Funderburk, who co-founded Tonic lounge, issued a press release today saying he and several partners have purchased Menage and Belle’s BBQ from Stefan Latorre. (Latorre has not responded to an e-mail request confirming the sale.)

Funderburk and his partners, who include Tonic’s Andre Araiz, won’t release any details about what they plan to do with the space. Their goal is to quench partiers' thirst for Tonic, a cool lounge at Fourth Street and Independence Boulevard that closed in 2005 because of construction near Central Piedmont Community College.

In an e-mail, Funderburk said “We envision a place that will become part of the fabric of Charlotte uptown culture, not just for nightlife, but for all times. A place to eat, a place to relax, a place to party, a place for people who love people.”

Although Funderburk and Araiz want to appeal to fans of Tonic, Funderburk said he won’t try to re-create Tonic.
“It existed in a certain time and place that could never be re-created. What we strive for now is a new dream that we know our friends and supporters will love.”

Thank goodness. Every new lounge owner says he wants to re-create Tonic’s vibe, but none have. What would you like to see Funderburk and his partners do with Menage? Post your replies below.

New hangout on Central Avenue

Nearly a decade ago, the Avramovic brothers -- Branko and Djordje (pronounced Georgie) -- started as busboys and barbacks at Cosmos Cafe. After working their way up to become servers and bartenders, the two realized a lifelong dream on Wednesday when they officially opened their own restaurant: Intermezzo at Central and Louise.

The restaurant has the potential to expand Plaza-Midwood offerings beyond Pecan Street. It’s a tiny spot across from the Salvation Army that features a mix of American and Yugoslavian food, including many family recipes. For example, their burger is made of beef and lamb and called pleskavica.

At a friends and family party on Sunday, I liked what I saw.
The brothers are humble and gracious, the food - pizza, along with lamb, chicken and beef kabobs - was yummy-yummy to my tummy. The draft beer selection is sweet. They have Duck Rabbit on tap.

Interior designer Boris Tomic, who worked on Cosmos and the Forum, created a warm, industrial look with exposed brick and beams. The place only seats 50 people, but the Avramovic brothers plan to expand as business grows. They will have a DJ spinning downtempo house on some Fridays and Saturdays, and every Sunday.

DJ Jazzy who?

One show that was unquestionably worth attending was the DJ Jazzy Jeff set at Amos’ last Saturday. Promoter Mike Kitchen has been trying to get Jazzy Jeff here for years, and he finally landed him.

As I’ve written before, I only knew him as rapper-actor Will Smith’s sidekick, but now I know what I’ve been missing. At Amos’, Jazzy Jeff spun classic hip-hop for about two hours. He gave fans songs that only true hip-hop heads knew, as well as a healthy dose of faves with his West Coast, East Coast and rock sets.

Several hundred people grooved to Jazzy Jeff’s tunes while MC Mad Skillz worked the mike. Jazzy Jeff did a smidgen of impressive scratching, but he mostly spun cuts folks wanted to hear. Songs ranged from Dr. Dre’s “Nuthin’ But A G Thang” to Common’s “The Light” to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Although plenty of people danced at Amos’ during the show, Jazzy Jeff would be an even better fit deejaying at a dance club or party. I hope he returns for the CIAA basketball tournament next year, because that would be a party not to miss.

DMX crazy as ever

I was out of town on Wednesday, and it sounds like I missed a crazy night. Josh Groban cancelled at the last minute because of laryngitis (read Courtney Devores' interview with him in the A-List on Page 2A of Tuesday's Observer.)

My buddy Larken said he loved DMX’s performance, but that opener Bazaar Royale was horrible. I, however, also heard from reliable sources that DMX’s antics at Amos’ Southend may have been more ridiculous than Meshell Ndegeocello's. I have a feeling he won’t be playing at Amos’ again.

Here are a few e-mails the Observer received about the DMX show.

From Ray Anderson:
He got on stage around 12:40. I had to wait around in order to review it (I write for charlottevibe.com). All I kept thinking was “I’m missing ‘King of the Hill’ for this?”
He played/prayed until 2 a.m. and did A LOT of preaching between songs. I kept thinking to myself, "Well, it is Wednesday night" (the night normally associated with bible study).
Maybe Josh Groban cancelled because he wanted to go to the DMX concert.

From Leah Day:
When we first arrived and got in line to give our tickets, we noticed on the counter there was a notice that said DMX would start at 11:30 p.m. and that the bar was not responsible for his punctuality. Our tickets said 8 p.m. Seeing that, we decided to go take advantage of Therapy’s half-price martini night until 11:15 p.m. in case it started at 11:30.
The concert was excellent, and lasted a decent amount of time. I was all the way up front and really enjoyed the performance. My friend caught the T-shirt he threw out. Overall, I think it was worth the wait and my friends and I all said we would go again if he came to town.

From Heather Blake:
Had a great time! Yes, he came on stage a little late -- around 12:30 a.m. -- but he’s rather notorious for doing so. Amos’ had several signs posted at the door that the Bazaar Royale started at 10:30 p.m. and DMX at 11:30 p.m.; however, right below they also clearly stated that they were not responsible for the artists’ punctuality.
Do I wish they had been a little more clear about what time the show started? Of course. But it’s a concert -- relax, and just have a good time. I’m most definitely not a rap fan usually, but he was worth the wait.

A really angry lady:
Doors opened at 8 p.m. and DMX was supposed to be there from 9:30 p.m.-10:30 p.m., so we got there around 8 p.m. and waited while some DJ played.
Waited...waited...waited...and about 10:30 p.m., we got angry.
So about 11 p.m., I went up to the lady at the front and asked if DMX was even going to perform. She said, "He’ll be on at 11:30 p.m." About 11:25 p.m. his cover band played for about half an hour. About 12:30 a.m., I wanted to go home, so we went up to the lady at the front and demanded our money back.
We didn't get it, but the point is we paid for a concert on Wednesday night, not one on Thursday morning.

--------------------------------
Like I said, I didn’t go to the concert, and I’m glad I didn’t. Anyone who goes to rap concerts at clubs knows that the main act often doesn’t go on until 11 or 11:30 p.m. (Yes, after midnight is a bit ridiculous. This is Charlotte, not D.C.)
Your best bet is to call the venue and ask what time the main act will perform if you don’t want to arrive too early. Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t go to the show because I can’t take the whole preaching/rapping thing. DMX obviously has issues, and if he wants to express that in his lyrics, that's fine. But I’m not going to a concert to hear him preach.

Have anything to add? Post your replies below.

A week in New Mexico

Last year, my mom invited my girl and I to spend a week in New Mexico. My mom’s best friend Sue has a cabin that her family owns in the mountains between Taos and Eagle Nest. Sue’s mother, whom I called Momma Sarah, vacations in New Mexico every summer to escape the Oklahoma heat.

I want to eventually move to the Southwest, so I’m always looking for opportunities to explore that region of the country. I went to Phoenix a few years ago for a journalism convention. It was pretty, but I remember stepping off the airplane at midnight and it was 100 degrees. A hundred degrees at night!

The forecast for Santa Fe and Taos, where we also would be staying, called for cooler temperatures than that, so I was excited. I’d never been to New Mexico, and my vision of the Southwest is based on the movies “Waiting to Exhale” and “Boys on the Side.”

I imagined lovely adobe houses with miles and miles of land, pretty scenery and laid-back people. I got some of that, but I also got carsick from all the winding roads, a broken windshield from flying rocks, locals who look at black people as if they’d only seen them in magazines (one woman called us a novelty) and lots of poverty.