My big moment.

Yes it’s true. I did that whole graduating thing. I didn’t do it perfectly, or conventionally. For those who have not heard the story, or were not there, here it is…

“Would the social studies division please come to the stage as directed by the marshal?”

My heart was beating fast, but I held my head high and followed in line to the side of the stage. I stood on two duct tape Xs for two pictures by the fancy looking photographers they had hired. I smiled, posing gallantly, and not too badly (as I can see now online). I went on to the shorter line right next to the steps of the stage—closer and closer to glory.

“Are you Alice Choo?” The guy with the clipboard standing next to the stage asked me.

‘Um no. I’m Abigail Churchman.’ I say slightly confused. Well actually very confused.

“Who?”

‘Um, I’m Abigail Churchman’. He looks at the list slightly confused. My name is right there!

“Oh yes, Abigail Churchman. Is Choo in absentia?”

I don’t know! Why the hell would I know that!? ‘I guess’. I look around hoping Choo will jump from some hiding spot and laugh, “Just joking Abigail. Ha ha ha.”

“That’s ok, I’ll just tell them”.

“Abigail Churchman”. Oh my gosh, my name has been called. This is it. It’s my moment. I walk up the steps without fail and without fall. I smile. I get ready to step forward to shake hands with the president and get my diploma. Wait a second, what’s happening? I’m being given a hand, but not to shake. It’s a please don’t move any closer hand.

“Wait a moment, we’re having technical difficulties” the president mouths to me quietly. I look to the crowd of spectators for a brief moment with a smile. Showing everybody I will not let this phase me. A little wait to graduate is not so bad anyway. I’m finally given the ok to shake the hands and get the diploma. I smile. I shake his hand. I see his mouth open. I’m ready for my inspirational comment from the new valiant president.

“We’ll get you your real diploma later.”

Hrn? Wha-wha-wha??? He must be joking that’s weird. Why would he do that to me? I try to move my tassel over to the left. I have some difficulty. It sort of gets stuck in the front. I think I’m just sort of in a huddle of confusion. I don’t trip at all.

I sit down in my seat and open the little black folder that is supposed to contain my brilliant, shiny, new diploma. It’s blank. There’s nothing inside. Absolutely nothing. I sort of mumble to myself/to the person sitting next to me, ‘It’s not real. I didn’t get a real diploma’.

The ceremony is over and I walk past my family. I smile, briefly showing my family the empty diploma that really could have only happened to me.

In case you're worried. I got it eventually.

That Time is Coming

Yes folks. That wonderful time in my life is almost upon me. When I'll finally be able to put away my books and papers and block anything academically related from entering my consciousness. When I'll just sit in the sun...or the dark TV room...and not worry about homework at all because I won't have to. Yes folks that wonderful time is almost here...

SUMMER!

Unfortunately, it won't last forever. Eventually, I'll have to pick those books and papers back up, and get back to work. I'll have to hunker down and get back to my studies. I can't let my grade's suffer after all. Yes, I know when we're in college we all want summer to last for as long as possible, but then it's time to get serious again and... Hm? What was that? Sorry, could you readers wait one second, Perri's trying to tell me something. Ok Perri, what was that you wanted to say? Yeah...okay...mmhmm...what do you mean? Oh, ok... Wait what?

I'M GRADUATING?!?!?!? AHHHHHHH!!!!!

Spring Break Part Two: Aspiring Actors

I know that Agamemnon has been very very disappointed in me for not writing about this spectacular super fun exciting part of my spring break. And for that I am truly truly sorry, but I will do my best to make up for it with this post about...

Colonial Williamsburg!!!!

Let's see. Where to begin? I awoke on a wonderful Saturday (?) morning barely able to contain my excitement. I basically did a drive by Elyse's apartment, just long enough to role down the wonderful Scion's window, say a brief hello/goodbye to Elyse and picked up my precious cargo, Jessica. Barely 10 miles out I graciously took Jessica to get a late breakfast at Burger King, an establishment I think I last frequented about half my lifetime ago. I must say though their shakes weren't too shabby. We also stopped in gas station type store, which had much more of a Southern vibe that I expected--being that close from our starting point. I of course had to explain to Jessica as we drove closer to Richmond that we were now entering the South (of the US) and had previously started in the North. Like a true non-native of Virginia she thought I was being silly, and I thought maybe she was right. But I'm not the only one understands. This easter I had a wonderful lunch at the owner of the barn where I ride Perri's horse. One of the Grinnellian guests is also from the Virginia area and he knew exactly what I was talking about. We had a very nice conversation, safe in the understanding that we originated from the North. But I seriously digress.

We made it Williamsburg in great time, ready to take on the Colonial goodness. Little did we know our enjoyment would be seriously deferred. We checked into our hotel first. A hotel that Jessica's information had suggested was within walking distance from Colonial Williamsburg. They day was not bad, so we thought a walk would be nice. We are not heathens who must drive everywhere. We asked a very nice lady hotel worker how to walk there. I took an instant liking to her, she seemed everything sweet and charming in the world. Her name was Hope for God's sake! Well, the devil walks in many forms. After we asked our question she flashed a nice smile and took out a little map that looked simple looking enough. 'A right here, a left there, it's so easy, it's so simple, you shouldn't have any trouble'. Yes my friends, truly I tell you, Beelzebub will try to lead you astray. His words will tempt you, but you mustn't succumb. Jessica and I thanked our Hope for the help and went on our way. I don't exactly remember how or when Jessica and I realized something was wrong. We had made our right and eagerly awaited our left. But we didn't seem to be getting there. We chatted about this and that initially, but slowly our conversation became punctuated with questions. Did we miss the left? Haven't we been walking for a while? Let's look at the map. Pretty soon we found out the map was useless, in that it really only named a few major roads and none of the useful side streets. Jessica beautifully navigated us despite our obstacles, but we both did a fair share of complaining along the way. We were fatigued! Though our legs were tired, we eventually made it to our destination. It sure seemed like a long walk, so I asked Jessica what time it was. Our walk had taken an hour and a half. We had kind of made a giant circle. I don't know if you could add the walk to my list of funny travel stories, but I think it was hilarious (retrospectively).

After buying our tickets we took a shuttle to one of the main streets of Colonial Williamsburg. Like any good tourist we started in a gift shop. Browsing through this and that. We also saw a few demonstrations, mostly of silver making. None of the Colonial workers was really hammy as I was expecting. I think many people (or at least I did) have a conception of Colonial Williamsburg as a historical Disneyland. Except with people who must act like the lived centuries ago. During our whole trip I only ever encountered an annoyingly in-character worker. I wanted to shake him and tell him that so-and-so did not actually frequent his cafe the past Sunday because as far as I knew so-and-so was not a zombie. I do not suggest that we did not encounter theatricality. In fact we encountered it very soon. For after some browsing time it was time for reenactments. Yay!

The first "event" on the schedule was an angry mob. Yay angry mobs! Except not really. As we watched some rowdy revolutionaries badger a poor tax collector (or something), who only wanted another day or two to answer their question, I started to get a feeling that only strengthened the more I watched. I also laughed inappropriately at certain points. They were really getting into it. After the mob, we i.e. every visitor, Jessica and I, were herded a little farther down the "street" to view various little skits. The highlight was an attempted tarring and feathering. Some man had had the gall the night previously do denigrate some American troops. He refused to say sorry, so the angry revolutionaries (see a theme here?) started to tie him up. At this moment my feelings were confirmed. The American Revolutionaries were jerks. Yelling, pushing people around, trying to tar and feather them. They were barbarians. By the end of everything Jessica and I were ready to proclaim "long live King George". But back to the tar and feathering. The poor man, in fear for his health and life, submitted and agreed to apologize. As the men wandered away a middle aged Colonial Williamsburg woman/actor standing near Jessica and I angrily proclaimed that we were all monsters. "How could we dare watch that poor man about to be tar and feathered and not doing anything? Just wait till they come to get Protestants, or even you in your own home. For shame! For Shame!" etc. etc. And then she stormed off. Ok lady. One, I did not know that I was allowed to participate. If I had known I would have already crushed the revolution by my own hands. And two, Jessica brought up a wonderful point. That lady didn't do a damn thing either. Why couldn't she have saved him? Gosh hypocritical random actor lady.

We were herded to a few more demonstrations. And I say herded because after every mini-show, Williamsburg workers would shout something like 'come this way'. Then like the sheep all us tourists were, we would follow. We would stand, sit, or shout anytime they asked. And they wouldn't even let Jessica join the fake infantry because she was a women. We followed blindly until John Adams told us our revolution had been a success and was now over. We were obedient spectators of the never ending revolution that would happen again and again every weekend.

Hey Jessica. Give them

some privacy why don't

you?

Yes you.

Eventually filled with historical type information, Jessica and I were ready for dinner. This time we did not walk back to our hotel area. We took a shuttle and got back to our hotel within 30 minutes. I searched the interwebs for food options and settled upon what was proclaimed to be the best Chinese buffet in the area. They were not kidding. I don't know if the food was the best, but it had the most options I have ever scene. If I had tried a little bit of everything I would have needed a truck just to carry it. It was a great end to the day though.

The next day Jessica and I viewed more demonstrations, and did some actual souvenir shopping. I found a beautiful 'clockcase' pendant (so called because the pattern came from the side of a clock) that I decided I simply must have. Jessica and I had decided not to eat at an 'authentic' tavern for dinner the previous night because it was ridiculously expensive. But we went to one for lunch. Half way through the meal I realized I had been in the tavern before. A few Thanksgivings ago, a percentage of my nuclear family and a few of my cousins had come to Colonial Williamsburg. The food wasn't bad though still expensive. We had our fill. Actually, we had our fill of all of Williamsburg and decided it was time to depart soonish. Wandering to a shuttle stop, to take us to the visitor center, we said goodbye to our good time. Well not really because we still had the drive back!

Pretty close to Washington DC we stopped at a Denny's. I will not bore you with the details of our quest for an IHop (don't ask me why, I was craving it), which took way too many exits and way too much time. Denny's was good enough. We both had breakfast for dinner. We also discussed Denny's crimes against humanity. And by that I mean we tore apart their silly idea that it was ok for them to have a bacon sundae. Yes it was bacon month, but bacon with ice cream and caramel is not ok. Even the display card said yes we know it's ridiculous, but it's ok. No Denny's. Just no. Despite that desert abomination option, Jessica and I spent over ten minutes deciding whether we should have (non-bacon) desert or not. Luckily our time crunch decided for us. We went on our way. Following Jessica's printed out directs.

Oh Jessica's directions, I hate you. Love Jessicagamemnon. But hate the directions.

We missed our final turn that didn't exist and ended up in a seedy neighborhood. Funny story! Remember my wonderful post about a year ago? Well you see, the gas station we stopped at to call Elyse for directions looked super familiar to me. Now why would that be? A super duper uncomfortable feeling washed over me. I was about a block away from where the cops stopped me and my sister for supposedly contributing to Washington DC's drug/crime/murder problem. I was back in Anacostia. The place the police literally told me to never return to. "Never again" they said. I was in a different car, but my irrational fears of jail time overpowered my sense of common sense. My nerves almost broke in half when Jessica got out of the car to take a closer look at a street sign and talk to Elyse on the phone. I was half mumbling half yelling for Jessica to get back in the car. We were not in a good neighborhood. I confess I locked the car doors while Jessica talked outside. Self preservation I guess. She returned safe though and Elyse led us to the bus station over the phone. We arrived just in time for Jessica to catch her bus. We bid a sad farewell. Then I called Elyse to guide me back home.

The trip was great and I'm so glad I listened to Jessica's professional powerpoint on why Colonial Williamsburg was a good idea. I can't say the trip helped me in my dislike of driving in DC though. Apparently, all roads lead back to the same murderous place and lead me closer to my inevitable life of crime.