Day 8 - The Mystery of the Missing Roommate

Day 8
Miles Driven - Even fewer than yesterday
Total Time in Transit - Not long, unless you count that stupid trip to Target
View from Hotel - Still the I-90

Today is the day.

Alex is going to college.

MSU had worked hard to try to arrange the move-in so that things actually kept moving. Because otherwise it would be a still-in and that doesn't even make any sense. We were told to arrive at school for move-in between 8:30 and 9:30.

They were trying to stagger things a bit so there wasn't a huge traffic jam of girls with carts full of fluffy stuff fighting for space in the elevators against guys with garbage bags full of semi-clean clothes.

We had breakfast and Alex made sure to tank up on waffles, just in case something dire happened and there were no waffles available at school.

Since Tori has done so well matching carpets in hotels, I thought that I should up my game and try to match the bathroom.

Tori still did it much better than me.

Our traditional Back-to-School picture was in a slightly different setting this year, but we got it.

True fact: The backpack on his shoulder is the same one he took to school on his first day of kindergarten.

We arrived at school at our allotted time, the delicate scent of waffles still lingering on Alex's breath. At least, I assume it was. I sure wasn't going to smell his breath.

We were greeted by smiling greeters and colorful banners and streamers. It looked more like Chinese New Year than the first day of school, but it was festive.

And there were cinnamon buns! They had no doubt been baked in the top secret salad/bakery building that we spotted yesterday.

Excuse me. Are you in line for cinnamon buns? No? Then outta my way!

Alex in front of his dorm. A necessary, but ultimately pointless picture.

Alex checked in and got his key while I made sure that the coffee was hot and the cinnamon buns were fresh.

They were.

Good job, secret salad/baker people!

We went upstairs and found Alex's room.

He's in room 218 if you want to send him a nice letter. Or some waffles. 

You may have noticed that the door has two names on it: Colton and Alex.

Alex had had a bit of trouble getting his room assignment. It had come very late and he only got his roommate's name and contact information a few weeks before school started.

In contrast, Alex's girlfriend had been given her roommate's name and contact info months before school started. They had been in frequent contact with one another deciding–and Alex swears this is true–on a theme for their room.

I don't want to go too far off topic here, but a theme? For your room?

When I was in art school and got an apartment with my friend Ben (no dorms were available), our theme could have been considered "What Is That Smell" or "Was That A Cockroach or Small Dog Scurrying Under the Couch?" or, possibly even "Will You PLEASE Flush Next Time? But, Yeah. That's Pretty Impressive, Dude".

Alex's girlfriend and her roommate were coordinating colors and choosing matching comforters and probably deciding on a general small for their room, too.

Alex, perhaps inspired by that display of camaraderie,  reached out to his roommate and introduced himself. He told him a bit about himself. He said he was looking forward to meeting him.

His roommate responded: "Yeah. I'm your roommate."

And that's all Alex ever heard from him. At all.

Perhaps Alex was disappointed that he didn't get to coordinate his comforters. I don't know. He plays that sort of thing pretty close to the chest.

We gathered in Alex's room to await the arrival of Colton, The Mystery Roommate.

While we're waiting, let's make your bed! 

While we're still waiting, let's put your stuff away.

While we're STILL waiting, let's take a random picture of the back of Tori's head

While we are STILL waiting, let's wander aimlessly around the room.

We got the room set up, got Alex's stuff put away, and still there was no sign of the quiet and elusive Colton.

"Maybe he's outside, smoking with that bird we saw yesterday," I suggested.

We tried to fix some of the more glaring design flaws with the set up of Alex's room.

The bed is built in. And it's built in directly in front of the drawers, which are completely inaccessible.

This light will be great. For cooking your hair while you try to read.

 We were not able to fix any of these problems. "You're going to be an engineer," I said, "Maybe this is how they test the incoming freshmen!"

Alex brought exactly 1 photo with him. It's a photo of him with my step father, who died when Alex was rather young.
This may have made me a bit weepy. Shut up.

Room Selfie!

There is an old-fashioned intercom on the wall. I tried calling Colton on it, but he didn't respond.

Soon, we tired of waiting for Colton and decided to wander around campus a bit. Alex's dorm is three circular towers. The idea being that all the rooms in each pod will open into a small common area. Students can leave their doors open and chat with friends in adjoining rooms.

Let's see how that worked out.

Hello?

Um, hey? Guys?

Alex left his door open, anticipating Colton's imminent arrival.

Here is the view out Alex's window. It's more scenic than the I-90 out our hotel room window.

Here is the large common area for the floor. I suggested putting up a "Missing Roommate" poster for Colton, but everybody thought it was still too early.

They planted salad makings in the planters around the building. Kerri would not let me take a tomato.

Alex decided that he wanted to wander around on his own and asked us if we could run over to Target to pick up some plastic crates that he could stack in his closet.

"Plastic crates?" Kerri asked. "You mean plastic crates like the ones that you had in your room at home but refused to pack? Plastic crates like those?"

Alex was unfazed. "Yeah. Just like those."

We headed off to Target in a college town, on freshman move-in day.

I'm sure that someday, years and years and years from now, I will be able to forget the experience. Perhaps with therapy or strong psychoactive drugs.

For the meantime, I will share just one photo to give you the flavor.

There was an ENTIRE AISLE of clothes hangers.

Don't be fooled by the seemingly empty aisle in the photo. It was a unique moment in the store, and lasted only a second.

We escaped from Target, clutching three crates that seemed quite similar to three crates we had at home.

I decided that the only way to purge The Target Experience from my brain, would be some tasty Mediterranean food for lunch. We had a tasty lunch and were treated to the fun sight of somebody getting arrested and stuffed in the back of a police car in the parking lot.

Cuff 'im and stuff 'im, Roscoe!

Alex texted us with an update: "Still no Colton."

We arranged to meet Alex for the family and friends dinner that was being held on campus that night. It would be our last time together before we left him.

We passed the few hours in between with some swimming at the hotel and making idle, yet implausible conjectures about Colton's whereabouts.

We returned to the school, gave Alex his plastic crates, and headed to dinner.

One last family selfie!

On the whole, the dinner was wonderful. Unless you happened to be Tori.

Montana, in case you were unaware, is beef country. Tori, in case you were unaware, has been a strict vegetarian for many, many years.

"Don't worry," we told her. "It's a college campus. There are bound to be lots of crazy vegetarians like you here. Of COURSE there will be something you can eat."

And, technically, there was.

There was a salad. With bacon mixed in.
There was macaroni and cheese. With more bacon mixed in.
There were huge slabs of campus-raised beef. With heaping sides of... MORE beef.

There was also a small assortment of vegetables and hummus.

So, after carefully inspecting the carrots and hummus for any signs of meat, Tori had a delicious meal of appetizer vegetables.

We had a nice meal together and, with a unique mixture of joy, sadness, excitement, and anxiety, gave Alex a hug and sent him off to college.


Tomorrow - The Colton Mystery Deepens.

Virginia Vacation Journal: Day 3

The problem with the reservations was the amusement park. We arranged our trip so we could make a sort of U shape through Virginia. We planned on entering on the western side, heading south and east and ending up at the beach for a couple days. Everything was fine until Kerri found a great deal for amusement park tickets for the middle of the week. King’s Dominion promised thrills, excitement, and absolutely NO REFUNDS for any reason ever.
Even if the park happens to be closed when you are in Virginia.
Which it is.

Actually, they are open one day that we will be here.
Saturday.
The day we will be at the beach.
Several hundred million miles from King’s Dominion and its twisty, turny fun.
So, rather than lose the money that Kerri spent on the absolutely non-refundable-for-any-reason tickets, we have rearranged our schedule.
Now, we’re going to spend two nights in Lexington and three nights in Doswell, right next to King’s Dominion and Richmond.
No beach.

Today, after waffles, we packed up and headed off to Skyline Drive, a beautiful 105 mile road across the tops of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
I stopped by the front desk to double check my directions and there was a lady in front of me doing exactly the same thing.

“What’s the best way to get to Skyline Drive?” she asked the desk clerk.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there,” the clerk answered.
“Isn’t it like a half an hour from here?” asked the incredulous woman.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there. Let me check.”

The clerk ducked behind the desk for some time. Just when I thought that she had effected a stealthy escape, she popped back up holding a large binder full of pre-printed Google maps.

She looked over two maps thoughtfully before offering one of them to the lady in front of me. “Looks like this one will get you to Skyline Drive.” Then she held out the other map. “So will this one.”

“Which one would you recommend?” the lady asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there,” the clerk answered. She looked at the maps again. “Looks like this one will take you over the mountains through Luray,” she said, pointing to the first map, “And this one will just get you there on the highway.”
“Will the way through the mountains be all hilly and twisty?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there,” the clerk answered, “But since it’s through the mountains, I expect it will be hilly and twisty.”
“I think I’ll take the map for the highway. We were on a hilly road yesterday and it made us all carsick.”

Avoiding the hilly road to get to a 105 mile mountain pass seemed a bit shortsighted and I predicted spectacular carsickness on a grand scale for this family. I tried to get a peek at her vehicle so I could look for them on our drive today, but she raced away too quickly.

I confirmed our directions and we set off. We opted for the hilly, twisty road as a sort of appetizer for Skyline Drive.

It was a beautiful ride. We got on Skyline Drive about 30 miles along the way, but since the speed limit was 35 and the views were spectacular, the 75 miles we were on the road took us almost four and a half hours.

We stopped at many scenic overlooks to enjoy the scenic scenery.

 (Scenic scenery.)

We crossed the Appalachian Trail more than once and were spared the olfactory ordeal of actually coming within smelling distance of any thru-hikers.

(Hiding from smelly thru-hikers.)

After Skyline Drive, we finished our drive along The Blue Ridge Parkway instead of hopping on the interstate. It probably added an extra hour to our drive, but although my rear-end is sore, my eyes are happy. It was another gorgeous drive through the mountains.

(More scenic scenery.)

The timing of the drive today meant that we missed lunch, so we arrived in Lexington hungry. We checked in at the hotel, a Country Inn & Suites, and went out in search of dinner.

After dinner, we returned to the hotel so the kids could swim. The only reason they wanted to come on this vacation in the first place is because we booked hotels with pools.

The lobby of this hotel is brown. I mention this because my mother is a frequent traveler and has developed an odd theory about travel. Brown lobbies are an unmistakable, irrefutable sign of a lousy hotel. If she goes into a hotel to book a room and the lobby is brown, she turns around and leaves.

The pool area in our brown lobbied hotel is dark and somewhat disreputable looking. If the hotel has a bad section of town, the pool is it. Sitting in the dim, moribund lighting sapped my will to live and I had to leave the area lest I become terminally depressed and cast myself into the pool’s turbid depths.
The kids would have been happy to splash around in the murky pool all night, although Tori expressed a fear that there may be a crocodile hiding in the deep end.
“It’s 4 feet deep and I can’t see the bottom,” she whispered to me.
Whispering was unnecessary. For some odd reason, we were the only people at the pool.

I’ll be sure to check the lobby color of the next place we stay in.