I learn something new every time I visit a new place. Sometimes, I glean a new historical fact or expose myself to a food or drink I have never had.

When I visited the Cincinnati area recently, I discovered something entirely different. Apparently, Covington, Ky., doesn’t sell contact lens solution.

Covington sits right across the Ohio River from “The Nati” and was the base for my friends’ wedding.

I flew out for the nuptials, meaning I couldn’t pack contact lens solutions thanks to the jokers in England who sparked the new terror threat regulations.

No big deal, I figured. I could get some from the hotel or a nearby store.

Well, the hotel couldn’t come through (although they did give me a toothbrush and toothpaste), so I headed across the street to the small grocery store.

Nothing. The same thing happened at the two convenience stores down the street. I knew Kentucky was backward, but I never saw this coming.

The area had everything a guy like me could want – two chili places within two blocks, McDonald’s across the street and White Castle in the parking lot. That’s right – a White Castle in the hotel parking lot.

But nobody had contact solution.

I should have figured as much. The whole trip got off to a rough start, even though I heard the glorious sounds of Neil Diamond’s “America” as I waited for my plane in Harrisburg.

The Cincinnati airport was kind of confusing and I had trouble finding the main terminal. I ended up paying for a shuttle instead of calling a friend because I didn’t feel like waiting for a ride.

The shuttle driver then proceeded to drop me off at the Marriot in Covington. Which was nice and all, except I was staying at the Courtyard by Marriot down the street.

I didn’t even notice what had happened until I got upstairs and gave the desk clerk my confirmation number. She told me the Courtyard was two blocks down the street and, as I walked to my hotel, I wondered how she considered four blocks to be two blocks.

Everything worked out OK, even though the friend who I had said I would call for a ride was waiting for me in the lobby, wondering what had happened. I still feel bad.

The festivities began not too long after as we took advantage of the hospitality room provided by the groom’s parents. For a little while on Saturday afternoon, I didn’t know if all of us would make it to the reception.

But we did and we all made it home alive, thanks to a brave cab driver who put up with three of us making a midnight phone call from the back seat to a friend who was not part of the evening.

We celebrated late into the night in the hospitality room, but I never thought to make a late-night run to the White Castle before I went to bed. How unlike me.

I had to soak my contacts in tap water (not good), which threw me off my game. I would have been thinking clearer if I had been able to bring contact solution on the plane.

I blame the TSA for not letting me get a greasy bedtime snack.