Maybe not relevant, but I grew up in Greenville, SC, which is somewhat close to the border with NC. Once, I went on a Boy Scout camping trip near a Civil War battlefield in the mountains along the border. After visiting the history center on the site, our scout leader told us to hike back to camp, with an older boy in the lead (while the scout leader drove back). Because the hike in had been quite long and seemed roundabout, a small subset of us decided to take a "shortcut" that our friend Finley insisted would get us back to camp sooner (which I guess was important because we had vital "set things on fire" projects to get back to).
We set off from the main group, and away from the well-defined trail; I don't remember if the boy in charge objected to our innovative approach to returning to camp, or just couldn't be bothered with it, but they went on ahead without our small adventure crew. The main group made it back to camp, as expected, about two hours later.
Our group, on the other hand, was still wandering through the woods as dusk approached about four hours later. Before panic set in, we luckily heard a truck off in the distance...so, we headed for it, and found a road. We assumed it was the road where the campground was located, and figured we'd be back to camp in no time (surely we were really close, given how long we'd been walking). An hour later, we saw a sign..."Welcome to South Carolina". We'd walked from South Carolina into North Carolina, and were many miles from camp.
The scout leader found us a few hours after dark; we were on the wrong road, going the wrong way, and had likely crossed back and forth from NC to SC a couple of times in our hike. We got back to camp around 11:30PM. Henceforth, getting lost was called a "Finley Shortcut".
This story doesn't have any real point, but I'd guess the border that we crossed a couple of times during that hike has since changed.
I'm not sure which state you're saying has superior pulled pork, but I think those are fighting words in either case.
I'm fond of both mustard and vinegar sauces. Tomato is good, too (that's actually what's popular where I'm from in upstate SC and western NC).
The last time I ever ate red meat (or large mammal meat) was a pulled pork sandwich 23 years ago. I became a vegetarian a few months later, after having étouffée in Louisiana on my way to Texas. I still partake of BBQ pretty regularly, and make my own sauce, but it's always tofu, seitan, jackfruit, etc.
Melvin's and Maurice's were always must-stops for my family. Maurice's in Columbia on our way to the beach (either Myrtle or Charleston or Hunting Island) and Melvin's regularly when my dad was working in Charleston for a couple of years. Both at their original locations, AFAIK. I didn't know anything about the politics of Maurice at the time, but read about it later (that very article, I think, was linked on HN a while back).
So, yeah, even vile racists make good BBQ in SC, and nobody held their racism against them through decades of successful operation. I always found that history pretty fascinating, even before the racism came up...brothers kinda duking it out in a BBQ turf war, in a state where BBQ really matters.
Not sure when you attended schools in Greenville, but I was in elementary school there back in the mid-80s. It was only a few years back that I learned about an ugly little side of the school system there. Back in that era, all the elementary schools were built without air conditioning, but they were designed in such a way that it could easily be added. The PTA groups in the more affluent parts of town were party to this and would always chip in for the AC units (my school had AC in every classroom). I understand that the schools across town weren't able to do the same. As I recall, it can get pretty hot and humid down there. I'm sure this wasn't unusual in the south, but I was nevertheless surprised to learn about it.
We set off from the main group, and away from the well-defined trail; I don't remember if the boy in charge objected to our innovative approach to returning to camp, or just couldn't be bothered with it, but they went on ahead without our small adventure crew. The main group made it back to camp, as expected, about two hours later.
Our group, on the other hand, was still wandering through the woods as dusk approached about four hours later. Before panic set in, we luckily heard a truck off in the distance...so, we headed for it, and found a road. We assumed it was the road where the campground was located, and figured we'd be back to camp in no time (surely we were really close, given how long we'd been walking). An hour later, we saw a sign..."Welcome to South Carolina". We'd walked from South Carolina into North Carolina, and were many miles from camp.
The scout leader found us a few hours after dark; we were on the wrong road, going the wrong way, and had likely crossed back and forth from NC to SC a couple of times in our hike. We got back to camp around 11:30PM. Henceforth, getting lost was called a "Finley Shortcut".
This story doesn't have any real point, but I'd guess the border that we crossed a couple of times during that hike has since changed.