Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for … about two months. But it feels like years. Yes, my friends, the novelty has very much worn off and I have fallen into what some might call a slump – but a lovable slump, I assure you. However, as the norm of my Williamsburg summer seemed to stretch endlessly and the days ran together, I was lucky enough to receive a brief solace from the outside world. A contingent of some of my close friends came down to visit the College of William and Mary this past weekend and, by default, visited me as well. And, I must admit, if I learned anything from their time here, it’s that Williamsburg is expensive – like, really expensive.
The realization of just how hard it is to explain the summer experience in the ’Burg first hit me when I was attempting to explain to my best friend what exactly it is that we do. Here he was, freshly off a whirlwind study abroad trip in Spain, where it seemed like his class load consisted of 3 a.m. clubbing and daylong trips to the beach. And, with his face contorting in puppy-dog-like confusion, I described the paradigm shift of spending weekend nights in a dimly lit booth at the Green Leafe while the roving monolith of AidData interns massed in the center floor. Fraternity house parties and terrace chilling were a thing of a bygone era – when people mingled and brought wine and snacks when they came over – we were now in the new frontier of hors d’evours and booth seating.
But my friends loved it – the carefree attitude, the simplicity of meandering through the week with few concerns and no thought to bustling. It was a refreshing way to experience the College, a warm idea that had worn off for many of us long-term residents. The days were a whirlwind of relaxation – we ate out for a nice dinner; we went sunbathing at Jamestown beach (and I glowed fluorescently next to the trio who spent the last two months on the Mediterranean coast); we also visited the Cheese Shop and romped with the local Williamsburg canines. All in all, it was really quite pleasant. Then Tuesday came around and they left, and, with their departure, so went the newfound appreciation for our well-worn existence here in America’s most bustling retirement community/tourist trap. My wallet saw better use as a paper weight, I was behind on work and I still had a fortnight left to revel in self pity.
Like always, I must now bid adieu to my dearest fans. Remember, you can forward all gifts and fan mail through my secretary, and I promise I will get back to you. But for now, I can hear a rather large woman warming up in the corner, so be prepared for the exciting denouement to my gallant escapades – gird your loins kiddies, ’cus, sugar, I’m going down swinging.
