The Toxic Tour - Leg 3: Old Houses, Olde Townes, Aulde Memories

When Good Guests Go Bad

I really enjoyed Leg 3 of The Toxic Tour, despite the fact that it only lasted 24 hours.

I had suckered Selfless Former College Roommate into driving an hour from her house to pick up my squalling family from my sister's, then drive us all the hour back to her house.  Selfless Former College Roommate then had to clean her house, change sheets on multiple beds, and move shit out of the way in two bedrooms so that we could stay at her place for about 12 hours.  And, while I felt bad about all that work for so little time spent in-house, Selfless Former College Roommate graciously waved aside my guilt, claiming to be happy to see me for any amount of time at all.

Her three cats, for their part, were equally gracious: politely confining their terrorized shaking to the dark recesses of the dining room hutch for the entirety of our visit.


As I mentioned in Leg 2's post, I had sort of accidentally duped Selfless Former College Roommate into first spending the entire afternoon at my sister's.  Basically, in the midst of being so organized, I forgot who I'd talked to about what, so miscommunication ensued.  As a result, Selfless Former College Roommate drove up to get us, thinking we'd stay for lunch and then we'd all head back.  Meanwhile, I had planned on having a lunch alone with Selfless Former College Roommate (which would be our only real chance for one-on-one time), but then having all of us stay at my sister's for dinner before driving back to Selfless Former College Roommate's. 

I must say that, upon suddenly learning that I expected her to hang out with my family and my sister's all day, Selfless Former College Roommate showed remarkable restraint and impeccable politeness, rolling with the punches well and (at least visibly) contentedly settling in for the afternoon.  But then, she's always been like that: willing to sacrifice whatever plans she had to help out someone else.

Anyway, the drive to her house that evening was pleasant; made doubly-so by the fact that both the younger boys slept through most of it.

(I'd make some comment about 'angels when they sleep' but . . . really? . . . with those blurred-out faces?

I wish I'd taken a photo of her house for all the world to see, because it's really super-cool.  A House With Character.  It's got all these established trees and sort of a southern-Virginia feel (which is, I suppose, fitting, since it's located in southern Virginia).  There's something about its paint job or its front porch or the way it sits back in the shade that just makes you know it looks great in the fall.  Can't you see some pumpkins on the steps?  See the lights shining from the living room on Thanksgiving?

Naturally, I stuck my foot in my mouth and exclaimed, "Oooooh, this would make a great Halloween house!"  Which Selfless Former College Roommate took in stride, despite the fact that she assumed I was commenting on those various aspects of the house's 'character' which made it slightly-less 'socially-desirable' (like cracked pavement or rampaging ivy).  But, really, I was just in awe that she could maintain her house and yard in a more 'natural' state; when I try to do that, my place just looks like Sanford & Sons.

And, anyway, can you really blame me for calling her place a Halloween house?  I mean, there's a pet cemetery just a few blocks away.  Yes; in the middle of her suburban neighborhood!

Which, naturally, I think is totally awesome.

"Awwww; I wanna pet cemetery in our neighborhood!" I whined to Bee, as we wound our way amongst the headstones of well-loved (but still just-as-dead) former companion animals on our romantic sunset walk.

 Bee is fine with the idea of a local pet cemetery; particularly if our White Trash Neighbors' house was ruthlessly bulldozed (or just blown up) to make room for it.

So, we spent the night at Selfless Former College Roommate's, where we witnessed one of the most amazing lighting storms I've seen in years.  I'm talking eerie and repeated lighting bursts that illuminated the recesses of the back yard for just enough time to let you think you'd seen something . . .

OK, so -- once again:  can you blame me for calling it a Halloween house?

Anyway, it was so fun to stay there, and I was disappointed that we had to move on the next morning.

Selfless Former College Roommate once again showed what a lovely woman she is by then driving us all another hour to Williamsburg, VA.  Bee really wanted to see Colonial Williamsburg and I (Personal! Information! Alert!) wanted to re-visit my Alma Mater.  But, if you think about it, can you believe I forced Selfless Former College Roommate to drive approximately 240 miles in about 24 hours so that I could see her for a day?  I'm such a user.

I did, however, try to make it up to her by convincing the entire family to have breakfast at Selfless Former College Roommate's favorite Williamsburg haunt, The Old Chickahominy House.  Serving up Colonial fare amidst modern-day chotchkies!  Try the ham biscuits!!

We had a lovely meal, made all the more lovely by the adorable lady who began busing our table and was tickled pink that Bee and S.B. stacked our plates for her.  "Ooooh, ain't it so nice when the men-folk help out?" she enthused to no one in particular.  "Do y'all help out at home, too?"

Bee and S.B. nodded, but the adorable southern miss focused only on S.B.  "Mmm-HHMM, honey-chile; I'll BET you help out at home.  You a good helper, ain't you!"

A well-meaning phrase which Bee and S.B. have evilly corrupted into such gems as "Mmm-HHMM, honey-chile; I'll BET you're a help, if'n you know what I mean," and "Mmm-HHMM, honey-chile; I got something you can help wit'!"

Sexual-innuendos over (for the moment), we moved on.  There was a lovely farmer's market happening at the head of Colonial Williamsburg (or 'CW', as we transient-locals used to call it), so Bee was in his element.  He was even more-so in his element because it was approximately 98 degrees with a humidity of about 110% on that particular Saturday.  While S.B. and Mr. C and I -- and even Selfless Former College Roommate -- drooped, Bee trotted (Yes: trotted) from booth to booth, hobnobbing with vendors and trying to trade his wares (Yes: he'd brought his spoons with him).

(Which, OK, is actually a really smart thing to do, since he's been known to make a few sales on our vacations.)

(But: still.)

The point: Bee is most at home in The Everglades, and should have been a newt.

Hobnobbing complete, we continued down Duke of Gloucester Street ('DOG Street', to those of us in the know) into the colonial area, where some of the reenactments made so famous by CW just happened to be taking place.  This was very exciting for me to see because, you must remember, although I lived in Williamsburg for four years and liked to pretend with superiority that I was a local, I never actually lived there when college was not in session.  Which means I was never around when reenactment season was at its peak.  Which truly is a shame, because -- had I spent more time in Colonial Williamsburg -- I would have discovered earlier the wonderful little frozen yogurt shoppe just a block away.

I'm just kicking myself over the things I missed!

After a brief obligatory photo opportunity at the stocks (see top picture), we moved across the street to the campus of The College of William and Mary.  How odd it was to be back on campus, not as students: but as a tourists (or 'tourons', as we amusing students so lovingly called them)!

Despite the humidity, I practically skipped through campus, pulling Mr. C and S.B. along as I speed-talked at Bee about Things I Did Here and Classes I Had There and Buildings That Didn't Exist In My Day.

Now, if you know anything about me, you'll know that I hate "going back".  I have never been to a class reunion (high school or college) and I never will.  I even get a little squeamish visiting my old workplace.  I just don't like change, and -- I suppose -- I don't want proof that places have moved on without me and are Doing Just Fine, Thank You Very Much.  ("Wait a minute: you mean I'm not the center of the world?")

But, I must tell you, I loved revisiting my old stomping grounds.  It might be because I had such a great four years there (but not that great, so quit asking me to contribute to the Alumni Scholarship Fund).  Or, it might be because I just wanted to share this tangible part of my past with Bee (who, for his part, heroically feigned interest in all my boring stories ["This is where I did laundry!!!"]).  Maybe it was because it reminded me of being relatively adult for the first time in my life: making my own decisions about dinner and schedules and forming new relationships with people who didn't know yet what an ass I was.

Basically, being back on campus made me feel the way I did at the start of each new school year: excited and really looking forward to the future.

Now that we're adults, how often do we really get to feel that?

So, it was fun to powerwalk the campus.  I didn't even mind seeing all the new buildings that had sprung up without my consent and -- even worse -- been named without my input  ('Integrated Science Center'; really?  What's that supposed to mean?  I much-prefer the quaint-yet-sponsored titles of the older buildings, like 'McGlothlin-Street Hall').

What really got me was how small everything felt.  Yeah, I never thought I'd say that, either.  I don't mean that the building's were smaller; it just seemed that they were farther-apart in my day.  I can't believe I had to race across campus to get from my guitar class to my Microbiology class (yes, ramming students with my guitar case the whole way).  (Oh, and on a more personal note: despite 2 semesters of private study in Classical Guitar to fulfill a General Education Requirement, I still suck at playing musical instruments.)

I know, I know: maybe all the new buildings made campus that much more dense, so everything felt closer together.  Or maybe I've just become that much better at racing toward things since Mr. C learned to walk.  At any rate, it was kind of liberating to see how the academic buildings, which used to cause me such stress, are really not the big monsters about which I still have nightmares.  Even my old nemesis, the lecture hall in Millington, was tiny compared to my memories.

I thought this new perspective about my past worries would make me feel silly about those worries . . . but it didn't.  It was  actually calming;  as if I was finally able to put to rest some of those stressful memories of my past and move on with the rest of my life.

And that was kind of cool.

Awesome Former College Roommate met us on campus.  We said goodbye to Selfless Former College Roommate, and embarked on the next Leg of The Tour.