Head West Head West

I took my chances and drove home; there was nothing going on here, so all in all I'd say I made the right choice.

No trip home, of course, is complete without a stop at Hamline, the wayfarer's rest.

Socialization at school may be confusing, socialization at home may be frustrating, but right in between, at Hamline, I'm on solid familiar social ground. Lover of ruts that I am, I can't help but take pleasure in a somewhat familiar one.

I met Graham and Jenna at her place and we walked over to the Mirror of Korea, where I discovered that good Korean food is just as mediocre as great Thai food. I want to like both, but my stomach and taste buds refuse. I'll try it a few more times before I give up, I guess.

Speaking of taste, Graham dislikes Modest Mouse, apparently. They "just yell," and part of him has a problem with discordant-sounding music (presumably not the part that likes/d Operation Ivy). He's also not up on the Animatrix and the new Matrix movie. Well, at least we still have Manney to copy.

Graham spent most of the time talking about the Oracle and Hamline's outrages-of-the-month and such, but since I actually find that stuff interesting it was an enjoyable conversation. Graham was understandably burnt out, what with everything coming to a head.

That's right: "a" head, not "an" head. And if I ever hear the phrase "an heroic hippo" again I'll beat the offender to death with my copy of Joseph William's (brilliant) Style. You think I'm joking.

Jenna and Graham are done in two weeks, and that (combined with the constant interplay of ideas at Hamline, something Lawrence can't quite emulate) makes me wish I'd picked a certain cheaper, more liberal school. Well, at Lawrence we are (I hope) getting a better education. And whenever I talk to a Hamline student I wonder whether there's a Gender Studies prof hiding somewhere, an armed prompter in the shadows.

I tried not to begin to many sentences with "Well, at Lawrence…" but I failed. I can't wait to get back from Freiburg- then I can go back to saying "Well, in Germany…" instead.

I need to finish that application. Soon. But not too soon. If I was King of Housing last year, this year I proclaim myself Thief of Housing. I'll be sharing a quad with Jubb, Jonas and a sweaty 400-pound disco-loving narcoleptic named Ned, provided that I slide "going to Germany first term" under the housing department's radar.

Careful, careful. As Fritzell used to say.

Anyways, after dinner Jenna went off to look at houses with her housemate Kevin while Graham and I visited Carly, a friendly Hamlinite eerily reminiscent, at times, of Jinx. Well, Jinx on elephant tranquilizers or some kind of heavy sedatives, but still.

Next to the incomparable Alyssa, Carly is the best of the Hamline friends-of-friends; we talked about something or other, I forget. Probably Hamline profs. I tried to throw a waterballoon out the window and failed, distracted by a picture of Aaron Carter, recording "artist."

Upon the discovery our mutual Backstreet brother fandom, Carly and I exposed Graham to some Carter mp3s.

We left Carly (she went to see Bowling for Columbine like a good independent-thinking Hamlinite) and hooked up with Kevin and Jenna. After an episode of Ducktales and some brainstorming, we decided to visit the Gondola Creamy, or Randall's Creamy, or, as it's actually called, the Grand Ole Creamery.

The Grand Ole Creamery, sadly, doesn't have a website for me to link to. But it does have the best $4 ice cream cones you'll ever talk yourself into buying. I had Black Walnut and Caramel Pecan, I think.

Our next stop was a big Barnes and Noble. I love bookstores, but Barnes and Noble has bookstoring figured out. Walking into that store was like walking into some kind of Church of Books.

Suddenly, being well-read seemed very important; I was surrounded by people who wanted only to buy books. I almost became one of them, but Barnes and Noble's siren song only gave me the urge, not the resources, to buy and read a book.

After a while at the bookstore, we drove back to campus and, sans Jenna, met up with Hamline's answer to Casey Jones: The Mole King. He took us adventuring, down into the steam tunnels beneath a small Midwestern college we knew pretty well.

We snuck past a guard. We found old files and class banners, a hidden entrance to a faculty member's office, a caved-in tunnel, and other stuff that was all-the-cooler because we found it while sneaking around where we weren't supposed to be.

We (or, at least, I) connected with something mythic and important, down there in the steam tunnels. We were the Mole People.

So that was really cool. If I'm home this summer, I'll do that kind of thing any day. The search for the fabled KGB weapons cache begins…

Saturday morning I drove home and surprised my mom, using my surprise visit as an excuse not to get a Mother's Day card. There's something diabolical about the invention of Mother's Day. The greeting card companies know we can't just say we won't celebrate it.

I ran errands while the rest of my family caught dozens of crappies and bass out in the new boat. I finished Decline and Fall, a great academic satire that lost momentum at the end.

It turned out that, besides Manney (who I didn't contact; I wanted to, but I assumed he was bonding with his g/f) there wasn't anyone in Brainerd. So I spent the whole day with my family, marveling at how well Matt (who Jinx calls my "Hot Brother") has turned out and keeping my dad's statements in check. We ate at The Green Mill for a few hours and then went home.

I slept in my own bed and left early the next day, after a drawn-out Mother's Day breakfast.

Sunday I stopped to visit Dylan, in the cities. I haven't seen him in months, at least, so it was nice to catch up. We're always enthusiastic to see each other, and I consider him a good friend, but looking back I have to admit that our conversation was pretty trivial, mere millimeters away from the banal "how's school" talks I sometimes have with my parents. Maybe I've forgotten how to talk to people, but I think it might have always been that way.

Still, Dylan is the only person I can fight and sometimes beat.

Yeah, I got back to Lawrence and watched Survivor. Going home was better than staying here and doing all that homework I never finished, that's for sure.