This is the last edition I can bear to do, from our Charleston trip. Here is the entrance to the famed Hyperion Hall, where the St. Cecelia ball was held for decades/centuries, whatever. My photographer failed to get a shot of the stained glass Irish harp above the door, but it's cool - trust me.
The dome inside. There are two big ballrooms and two beautiful winding staircases that lead upstairs , perfect mirror images of each other. The symmetry was broken at some point for the addition of rest rooms.
This is one of the carts they used to haul perps off to jail. I would guess they scattered hay or straw inside it.
One of the many confederate war memorials. The statues are all beautiful and the inscriptions touching.
This is one of the stray kitties we saw in the graveyard. The poor thing looked a bit shabby, but healthy enough. Let me just say, he's luckier than poor little you-know-who, who I can't bear to mention.
A bad pic of me sitting on our balcony. The spire rising from my head is actually the steeple of St. Michaels Church. It contains a clock that chimes on the quarter hour and acts as the timekeeper for the entire city. It comes in handy when you are stumbling back to your hotel, a bit tipsy and full of expensive food and are not wearing a watch.
Somebody asked for a pic of the room. This is the bed, as it was laid out each night with robes and pralines. They had a pillow menu, so you could order different, crazy pillows each night. The linens were top notch by the way.
These are the doors of the hyperion hall. Were people taller back in the old days? I know women used to have big ole beehive-type hairdos, but COME ON!
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