Back to Our Roots

Michael and I took a little road trip over the weekend. We headed back to our college town. Just the two of us, without kids. It’s where we met, almost 13 years ago now.

It was an extended “date”—we grabbed lunch together on our way out of town, sharing a sub before we hit the road. The weather was rainy and chilly, but thankfully, by the time we arrived, it had improved. We first went directly to campus to explore a bit, as we hadn’t really been back (except for a quick drive through) in the 10 years since we graduated. We parked and got out, walked around everywhere to see all that had changed, and all that remained the same.

The feelings of nostalgia were overwhelming at times.

I don’t think I will ever forget how it felt to arrive on campus as a freshman. To be dropped off by my mom, to not really know anyone. To realize that I only HAD to “be somewhere” for 2-3 hours of every weekday, and beyond that, it was up to ME how I wanted to spend my time. And then once friends were made, the ability to hang out and have fun together for such a huge portion of every week. It didn’t involve scheduling dinners and drinks and play dates weeks or even months in advance. We were just… together. It was easy.

College, man. What a life.

Michael and I marveled over the new bookstore, and its vast array of merchandise available. All of the COLORS! Pink, purple, green, blue, black, white. Chevron, stripes, mascots and slogans. All of the BRANDS! Nike, Under Armour, Columbia. Seriously? This was fancy shit.

I overheard a girl saying to a friend, “I love this sweatshirt, but I don’t want to get it because EVERYONE has that sweatshirt.” I had to stifle a laugh, because when we were students? We literally had TWO choices for everything. Gray sweatshirt or blue sweatshirt. Gray t-shirt or blue t-shirt. Gray sweatpants or blue sweatpants. We all wandered campus looking like a bunch of clones.

Kids these days.

(And yes, I DID have to walk to school. Uphill both ways. Barefoot. In the snow. So stop it.)

We visited old classrooms and lecture halls, peeking through windows to see that those had not really changed. The building’s smell took me right back to those days. It’s strange how it can simultaneously feel just like yesterday and like another lifetime ago.

We noted that they had STARBUCKS and TIM HORTONS peppered around campus, instead of the nondescript little cafes we had. They had pergolas and outdoor couches with comfy cushions and mood lighting where we used to have cold metal benches.

Those drunk and/or hungover kids have no idea how lucky they are.

We walked back to Hemingway Hall, the dorm where Michael and I both lived sophomore year, when we met. I lived upstairs, he lived down. We had mutual friends that we hung out with regularly, but we somehow managed to get through the entire first semester of that year, and more than a month into that second semester without knowing that each other even existed. It’s funny how things like that happen.

It was fun to walk past our old dorm room windows, visit the old gyms, the hockey rink, the dining halls… remembering it all.

After we had our fill of campus, we got back into the car and went for a drive through the village. We stopped by our old houses, where we each lived during our junior and senior years. I was a little surprised to see that mine had not changed one bit, considering what a shithole it was, even 10 years ago. I know it’s student housing and there’s only so much a landlord can do, but our landlord was a special brand of cheap. Our house had a Blair Witch basement in which we sometimes hosted parties, games of beer pong, you know. People were always amused to see that our house was literally held up by a couple of tree trunks, fashioned into “supports” under the old floor joists.

We finally drove to check in to our room at a local B&B. A place that wasn’t even in business when we were students, but a house that we had certainly driven, walked, and stumbled past on hundreds of occasions.

It’s fun to revisit the old, while discovering the new.

We relaxed for a bit, enjoying the peace and quiet offered by 4 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. That’s not typically how our life plays out at this stage, so it was… weird. But enjoyable. We had a nice room with a high canopy bed (there were little steps at the end to get into it!), a gas fireplace, a TV, a big bathroom. We brought a few beers with us so we sipped them while flipping through the stations.

Just before 6:00, we ventured out, walking downtown for dinner. WALKING! We often walked everywhere in college, for obvious reasons, and this little town certainly made that a lot easier. Michael and I talked about how we—and most of our friends—were all pretty damn responsible for stupid college kids, back in the day.

I think these types of conversations are probably par for the course when you’re old.

We had a decent dinner at one of the only decent restaurants in town (haha!) and then walked to the bar at which we first officially met, on 2/22/02. We settled in for a drink, two of probably only 10 people in the bar at that hour. We had arranged to meet up with one of my favorite former professors, who has always continued to be a mentor and good friend. She came strolling in not long after we arrived, and it was fun to take some time to catch up with her. She helped fill in the gaps in our memories—what did that bar used to be called? what was the kid’s name who used to work the door?—and in our knowledge—what’s that new building up front? is that dining hall closed? where did so-and-so move to after retirement? and we caught up on life for a bit.

After we parted ways, Michael and I moved on to the next stop. We walked to another little strip of bars and walked into two of them, only to walk right back out. One, we discovered, didn’t even have beer on tap (say WHAT?), so that was not going to do. (Two beer snobs, at your service.) The second used to be a favorite, but it now goes by a different name, and had a distinctly different vibe. After we sat at the bar for several minutes without being served or even acknowledged by the bartender (and we were two of only five people in the bar!), we gave up and walked out. We found a much more comfortable spot at a tiny bar across the street, where we drank and watched sports for a while. It was weird not having any place to be, or really anything to worry about during those moments.

It was fun.

One thing we noticed during our “bar crawl”? We were never once ID’ed. In a college town, where underage drinkers try to get away with it ALL.THE.TIME!! Talk about depressing.

We called it a night early. Earlier than I care to admit, but I will say that it was well before we even saw any actual college students venture into the bars for the night, which should say something.

It says we are old.

We enjoyed a nice leisurely breakfast on Sunday morning, made for us by our hosts at the B&B. It was lovely and I would absolutely go back there to stay again. We soaked up the last hour or so of relaxing in our room before we packed up the remainder of our things and headed home to our beautiful girls.

I missed them. But it was nice to visit our roots.