Finishing touches

ASHEVILLE, N.C. -- Mayfel's advertises blue plate specials and burgers on its window.

Ducked in after the Tourists' game tonight (Asheville hangs on to beat the Rome Braves 4-3). I'm getting a little light headed because lunch seems a long time ago.

I'm also miffed because the joint doesn't allow separate checks without a $1 fee, but I order a Dixie Lager from New Orleans and watch people go by while waiting on my burger.

Listen closely and you can hear snippets of conversation.

Some samples:

"Look at your leg," one guy says to another. "You've got the bite to prove it. I'd kill that dog."

Just after 10, two guys walk up with two girls from out of town. But serving hours are over.

"They're closed," one says. "Nothing stays open late here through the week."

"Man, they're going to think this town sucks."

But it doesn't, and it's the seductive power of this place that leads you back downtown, even after a ballgame.

The server is named Elizabeth. She's got pretty eyes and a great smile. I forgive her for not taking separate checks.

A little later I order a PBR, toast a dear soul with it, and put the finishing touches on one of the most relaxing vacations I've taken in years.

Thanks, Asheville. You've made another fan.

Blue city thoughts in a red state

ASHEVILLE, N.C. -- I'm sitting in a joint called the Bier Garden watching girls make their way down Haywood Street.

Downtown Asheville is a happening place, even on a sleepy Wednesday night. Folks are everywhere. A series of shops, bistros and cafes pepper the place. It can give a guy from Knoxville a complex. Or at least a sense of envy.

The big news in the local alternative weekly is that a new book, Eric Weiner's "The Geography of Bliss," declares Asheville a happy place to live. And why not? I know I could stay here awhile.

The author will be here tomorrow night, across the street from the Bier Garden, signing books at the quaint Malaprop's. I ducked in before dinner and almost bought Weiner's tome just to see what the fuss is about.

Found the regional authors section and was tempted by a Thomas Wolfe novel I don't have, since he's a local and all. But I shied away from the $50 price tag and snagged instead a 50th anniversary copy of "On the Road." Kinda in the mood for Kerouac.

It's beautiful here tonight. Mid-70s, not a cloud in the sky. This is to-die-for weather, a "Please, God, don't let this ever end" kind of a day. I'm tempted to sit here the rest of the night. Curiosity gets the better of me, though, and I settle the bill and explore.

A little later I pass an art gallery I wish hadn't closed an hour before. I listen awhile to the street musician near the bookstore play his banjo. I laugh at a local newspaper's moniker. (Think "Superman.")

And I'm glad I found my way to this eclectic little blue city snugged into the western mountains of this ruby-red state. For the second time in three days, I shake my head, and wonder what could have been back home.