Southern Hello Comes with a Recipe

Yesterday, I hobbled across the parking lot into the Harris Teeter at Rivertowne, focused on getting from my car to a scooter cart.

Behind me, a gentleman older than I am said hello. He wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a large checkered long-sleeve shirt, which struck me as a lot of clothing for the temperature. I was already working up a sweat just watching him.

Naturally, I said hello back.

It’s the South. You say hello. What you don’t always realize is that you’ve just agreed to attend a presentation.

“I love Bojangles rice and red beans,” he announced.

No introduction. No transition. We went straight from greetings to side dishes.

Great! I hadn’t known he didn’t like them, but I was pleased we’d cleared that up.

I kept hobbling. He kept talking.

He explained that he buys the family size.

This man really loves his rice and beans, I thought. We hadn’t even reached the store, and I already knew his preferred restaurant, his preferred side, and his purchasing strategy.

Then he said he keeps them for a few days.

Then he said he doesn’t.

At this point, I wasn’t sure whether we were discussing leftovers or taking sworn testimony.

What he does, he explained, is put the rice and beans in a pan. Then he cracks an egg into it, scrambles it, and mixes the whole thing together.

And that, friends, is where he lost me.

“I don’t eat eggs,” I told him. “Eggs are gross.”

Now, I could have stopped there. A person with a functioning conversational brake pedal probably would have.

Instead, I explained that I think of eggs as chicken menstruation. An unfertilized egg. Yes, I know that’s not a technically accurate description. It is, however, the description my brain has committed to, and my brain is not accepting public comment.

He had offered me a recipe. I had responded with poultry reproductive concerns.

Neither of us had asked for any of this.

By then, we’d made it to the produce section—the whole-food portion of Harris Teeter, where a banana could simply be a banana without either of us cracking an egg over it.

We parted ways among the fruit.

“It was nice chatting with you,” I said. “Have an awesome day!”

And I meant it.

He went off to do his shopping. I hobbled off to do mine, now carrying a recipe I would never make and more information about a stranger’s rice-and-bean habits than I have about several members of my own family.

That’s the South.

Sometimes “hello” means “hello.”

Sometimes it means, “Walk with me. There’s something you need to know about Bojangles.”

What is wrong with this picture?

Accessibility Should Start in the Parking Lot

I was at the Harris Teeter in the Rivertowne area on Thursday and saw these electric shopping scooters parked inside. Most of you might not notice anything wrong. In my opinion, though, this picture shows a gap in how we think about accessibility.

First, let me say thank you to Harris Teeter for providing this equipment for customers with mobility issues, including me. These scooters make grocery shopping easier and less stressful. I appreciate having them available.

Here is where my opinion may be controversial—or perhaps seem petty to someone who has never struggled to walk across a parking lot.

The scooters are inside.

Someone who needs one must first get from their vehicle to the store and through the entrance before reaching the equipment that helps them get around. For some customers, that journey is already difficult.

The help is there. But you have to reach it first.

I do not know whether stores are required under the Americans with Disabilities Act to provide these scooters. My concern is about the everyday experience of using them. From my perspective, providing mobility assistance only after someone gets inside feels like a half-measure.

I have suggested keeping scooters in a designated, sheltered area near the accessible parking spaces during store hours, with the spaces and access aisles kept clear. Employees who collect shopping carts could check that area and bring the scooters inside when the store closes.

I understand these machines are expensive. Weather, charging, security, and upkeep all need to be considered. That is why I am suggesting a managed arrangement during business hours. If outdoor storage isn't practical, an easy way to request a scooter from the parking lot could help close that gap.

The people who need these devices should have a say in where and how they are made available.

I have written reviews of hotels where, from my experience as a guest with mobility issues, the approach to accessibility felt like doing the minimum—especially in bathrooms. A feature can be present and still be awkward or difficult to use. The details matter when you are the person depending on them.

I would love to see a company take the lead by asking customers, “What would make your visit easier from the moment you arrive?”

I believe that kind of care could bring a meaningful return through loyalty, repeat visits, and recommendations. When a business makes an everyday task easier, people remember.

So, thank you, Harris Teeter, for providing these scooters. They make a difference to customers like me.

Please consider taking that care a few steps farther—out to the parking lot, where we may need it first.

$856 Million, Lucky 8s, and My Fraternity Lottery Dictatorship

The Powerball jackpot has climbed to $856 million, with the next drawing on Saturday, August 8, 2026 (8/8/26).

Now, I think the number 8 is considered lucky in Mandarin. I'm not entirely sure. I speak approximately three words of Mandarin, and two of them are probably pronounced wrong.

Still... 8/8? I'll take all the luck I can get.

I've also made an executive decision for the fraternity lottery pool. We've doubled the buy-in from $10 to $20 per person, which means twice the tickets and slightly better odds of one of us becoming completely unemployable.

To keep everyone informed, I've been posting the ever-changing odds in our Discord channel based on how many brothers are playing. It's educational. It's transparent. It's probably the most math some of us have done since college.

There has been one other policy change.

After weeks of organizing the pool, collecting money, driving to Harris Teeter, buying tickets, photographing them, and sending updates, one particularly ungrateful fraternity brother has been permanently promoted to... former participant.

Congratulations!

Your lottery odds with my pool are now exactly 0.000000%.

It's amazing how quickly the Fraternity Lottery Commissioner can become the Fraternity Lottery Dictator.

Long live the Commissioner.

Good luck to everyone else. If we win $856 million, drinks are on me.

Well... probably not. That's how people stay rich.

Join the fun on NielFlamm.com/blog.

$786 Million and a Lesson in Fraternity Economics

If you've been following along, you know I've somehow become the unofficial Commissioner of the Fraternity Lottery Pool.

With the Powerball jackpot sitting at $786 million, it seemed like the responsible thing to do. (That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)

Over the past few weeks, I've been collecting money, organizing who is in and who is out, driving to the local Harris Teeter, standing in line, buying stacks of South Carolina Lottery tickets, photographing them, keeping track of everything, and sending the group updates.

At one point, I walked up to the counter and bought $200 worth of lottery tickets.

The cashier gave me that look.

You know the one.

The look that says, "Sir... are we okay?"

Yes, we're okay.

No, gambling isn't one of my problems.

If anything, my problem is volunteering for too many projects.

The funny part is that after all the work that goes into organizing this little adventure, a few of the fraternity brothers have started sounding a bit... ungrateful.

Who knew that trying to make everyone a millionaire could become a thankless job?

Maybe I should charge a convenience fee.

Or a ticket-handling fee.

Or an emotional support fee.

We'll see where this goes. The Lottery Commissioner may be considering early retirement before anyone actually wins enough to retire.

Stay tuned.

There may be more to come.

Until then, if our numbers hit tonight, I promise not to hold a grudge.

Probably.

Some People Just Don’t Give a F’!!! Twice in One Day—What Is Going On?

Is it a full moon? Did someone taint the water? Is the zombie apocalypse about to begin?

I went to see Spider— the video vlog review is coming later—and caught the first sign of civilization’s collapse in the parking lot.

I’m parked on the left, neatly between the lines. On the right is a Cadillac CT4 doing…well, you can see for yourself.

Later, I went to my local Harris Teeter to buy 85 Powerball tickets for the fraternity Powerball pool—more on that adventure later—and witnessed something even more baffling.

I drove by twice because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

An older gentleman had parked nowhere near the lines and left the hatch wide open. Look closely: nobody is inside the car. Nobody is standing nearby. Nothing. Eventually, I watched him make his way back to the vehicle on one of those electric shopping carts.

At that point, I knew the universe was trying to tell me something.

I’m buying MREs and driving to the middle of nowhere—right after I vlog about Superman, write about Nextdoor, and check the fraternity pool and my solo Powerball tickets.

Priorities, people. Priorities.