Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

It would be fun to have your own crane. Not necessarily to be a Peeping Tom in the 5th floor of an outside window (though who would think to find you out there?!) But you could deliver a bouquet of snapdragons through your loved one’s apartment window on Valentine’s Day via crane (then help paramedics lift her through the window after her coronary, true). You could easily see over the craning heads at the Robert Cray concert at FestivALL Charleston with an actual crane. You could put small, defenseless Baltimore Orioles back into their nests (the baby bird kind, not the ballplayer sort). You could throw snowballs at enemy neighbors in winter and they’d never know it. I have no idea what these crane-men are doing on Hale Street, perhaps it’s a high-wire break-in and someone should call in a Code 2 or get John Walsh. Crane robbers!

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

I lifted my eyes from the computer screen. I gazed past an insane co-worker watching YouTube videos of a man brushing his teeth with a stick. The words on my screen had stopped making sense. Getting out of the cubicle was the answer. But why not keep going? Why not, say, turn in that draft letter of resignation in your bottom drawer. Drop it off at H.R. on the way down to the street. Head to the Army Corps or Barges R Us. Apply to be a deckhand on a coal barge, plying the Ohio, the Monongahela, the Mississsippi. Sight your long ship downriver, trying not to take out a bridge or plow into the University of Charleston. Walk the barge with a steaming cup of joe as the sun burns the morning mist off the river. Pee off the side (OK, this is a guy fantasy). You’re content in a job well done. Finally! Sing along with me:

Dat ol’ man river. He mus’ know sumpin’
But don’t say nuthin’, He jes’ keeps rollin’
He keeps on rollin’ along…

Click to enlarge. Photo by WalkerDeVille 

What is this intersection? You have five minutes to answer. Once you are done, place your pencils on your desk and lay your heads down for a nap. Then, there will be chocolate milk…

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

Here’s an unconventional view of the American flag flapping in the breeze, one that strains the neck as you gaze up the face of the BB&T building at the corner of Summers and Washington streets.

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

Charleston’s downtown is a compact, pedestrian-friendly place in which to take what the Italians call a passegiata. Although we do lack the fishmongers, laundry strewn on lines between buildings, fine local wines and cheeses and the Pope, not to mention the Trevi Fountain and Marcello Mastroianni. OK, well. There’s that. But we DO have a couple of tables outside of Taylor’s Books, one cigar shop, bellisima office ladies on the lamb, and a juice bar.

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

What’s the chance the designer of the Statue of Liberty happened to be sitting in a Parisian cafe, saw someone with an ice cream cone and… Just a thought. I still am amazed and awed by the historic photos of Lady Liberty’s birth and creation.

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

Blues BBQ Etc. across from the Clay Center needs a better name. This venue is far more cozy, welcoming and elaborate in its extensive beer and wine menu and above-average food than such a name would suggest. Plus, it features a smoke-free, woman-run bar (the always welcoming Kay) with probably the most eclectic selection of brews and vino in town. I nominate ‘Blues’ as a candidate for your personal ‘Cheers,’ if you happen to be looking for one. Ask Kay for the peach-flavored Lambic, a sort of Champagne-y beer that may surprise your taste buds.

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

Charleston has some Art Deco gems scattered about. The front of the Atlas Building on Quarrier Street is one of them, looking even more special in the evenglow. Last we saw this building was in the daylight hours.

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

How curious that Charleston still has a discreet downtown strip club. Not that I’ve ever been inside the walk-up joint on Capitol Street, mind you. I am assuming the Gold Dust gentlemen’s club is not where a man goes to sip Johnny Walker Blue Label and discuss the recent action on the cricket pitch.

Click to enlarge. Photo by Walker DeVille

I mean, if you are going to doze in public, you might as well really get into it. This exhausted working man takes a break in a big way on sunny afternoon along McFarland Street. Either that, or he’s trying to even up the tan on the back of his head and arms.