PTSD

I am not going to blog about hurricanes

I can't--it goes back to the whole sincere / snarky issue. Let's leave it at that.

Instead, a long-awaited (well, by some) post about NC. And possibly some stuff about business cards. Or not.

So, the lovely state of North Carolina is just past Virginia. Which smelled like mildew. The whole state had a distinct whiff of college bathroom. And it wasn't my car, because neither Maryland nor North Carolina had that impressive "towels left in the hamper too long" fragrance.

I've already mentioned the traffic on the return. Traffic on the way down also sucked--even though the beltway was pretty clear at 1:45 on a Friday afternoon, it was stop and go from there to Spotsylvania. Mostly stop. Very little go. Can anyone explain to me why traffic that was zipping along at 70 mph would need to come to a complete halt at the top of every hill? Because I just don't get it.

In NC, they build highways over lakes. Not around, but over. And these are not small lakes. They're very wide, and the bridges are long. And need some serious repair. Those big cracks in the roadbed? Not a heartening sight.

The sunsets over the lakes are spectacular.

I can't say much about Durham (I think it was Durham. That's the one the baseball movie was about, right?), since it seems to be constructed mainly of traffic cones and detour signs. (Hey, NCDOT? How's about sending some road crews up to work on those bridges? Just a thought.)

The Litigating Geologist (how's that for a nickname?) lives in a place named after Lincoln. I think I'm the only one who finds that really funny. Nobody else mentioned it. Also, he no longer drives the jeep--made it kind of hard to find his place by looking for the car. If I had known I was looking for a silver BMW yuppie car with leather seats and stereo controls on the steering wheel, I'd have gotten there sooner. Of course, I also might have turned around and gone home.

There's no good way to describe the way I feel about the yuppie car. I was on my bestest behavior, so I didn't say much about it at the time. I think I was counting on TLG to be the one person who didn't turn into a typical lawyer after graduation. (Sorry folks, all the rest of you were obviously headed in that direction. Not that the Footballer didn't surprise me.) I just couldn't picture him as a grown-up, I think. Sure, we all wore suits and carried memos around for three years, but he's got a briefcase now. And the aforementioned transportation. I don't really think the pirate shirts balance that out.

Let's face it, he's well on the way to being redneck yuppie lawyer scum. (Dude, I mean that in the nicest possible way. You know how I am.)

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Hell, I'm all for people I know in positions of power and success. But it's a bit much to see the change from the last time we were in the same state. That's all.

Things the same about the place in which TLG lives: giant rock in the living room (it used to be on the coffee table, but it's still hard to miss), the drinking horn (at least, that's waht I remember it as. I could be mistaken), ratty baseball caps (they're up on the wall--and are strangely appropriate), that damn brown couch (will it haunt me the rest of my days? I think it's possible), the blue chair (complete with Kevin marks and duct tape), a solid selection of alcoholic beverages, and a cat with issues.

Named Ed. Ed is a perfectly nice cat, I'm sure, but he's still got some interesting personality quirks. And when you wake up in the middle of the night with a big gray cat sitting on you and staring, it's a bit unnerving.

This is getting a bit long, so I'll close this post (there will be more: I haven't even started talking about the new girlfriend or the football game that was the the original reason for the trip) with these observations: those little bathtub sticky things, the ones that are supposed to keep you from falling down and breaking your neck? They need to be actually stuck down to work. Gas stations in NC have great pens and sunglasses, but don't all sell Cheerwine (this, I believe, is false advertising on the part of TLG. He swore the reason I hadn't heard of Cheerwine was related to my status as a Yankee. In three days, I didn't see the stuff on a single menu, so I maintain my position that the only person who drinks it is him.) The sadness of a stuck Krispy Kreme doughnut is universal. And funny stories aren't quite as funny when you have to stop to explain the characters and events that make them funny in the first place.

Yeah, the DC card swap is getting put off, too.

posted by Elizabeth @ 1:51 PM