Hark the Sound

Where to begin?
We arrived in Chapel Thrill Thursday night. We got there early so we could enjoy the free food at the hotel. But there was a mix up with our room. Not only were the cleaning crew in the room as we lugged our stuff in, but we also were put in a handicap room. Basically, the bathroom was a bit like a youth hostel. Just a shower head and a curtain around it. I get the point, but still it was a bit strange and so we just resolved that Henry would be dirty all weekend as trying to corral him in a shower with no walls seemed an impossible task. It was all we could do to not have him rip the mirrored closet door from its track(and why did the closet only have one door when it clearly needed 2?). And it is a miracle that we weren't charged for all of the calls he tried to make on the phone.
Henry loved the Penne in a Pink Basil Sauce from Franklin Street Pizza and Pasta. (Like mother like son.) He also enjoyed running about the quad and climbing up on the bench at the Davie Poplar (I'll add pics when we get home--I'm once again blogging on the road.). What he really loved was meeting "vacation" parents. These are the parents that basically always have Fruit Loops and Lollipops in their pockets, because, hey, we can have more fun if the Pickle is all jacked up. (Mainly also because I realized as I ate my fourth slice of bacon at the hotel breakfast, that if I was going to splurge on vacation that it was cool if H did too.) But we've decided that we're going to head down this summer so it won't be 40 degrees outside. (Get ready Jen and Dana.)
I decided to walk the 5k rather than run it because the Jog stroller we have doesn't fold up and also, I could catch up with friends while walking and I can't talk while running. Note to self--it is worth it to bring the non-folding Jog stroller because trying to get a regular stroller up and down curbs while in a moving mob in a timely manner is near impossible. I'm pretty sure the stroller added at least 4 minutes to my time. And Sloan opted out of the 5k because he spent Thursday night at Duke's Emergency Room having a little impromptu blood clot removal surgery and got himself a doctor's note. (He's fine. Still in pain from the incision, but doing well and such a trooper.)
The main thing that was odd about the trip was how much Chapel Hill and the 15-501 corridor have changed. Some good, some bad. Chapel Hill now boasts a Trader Joe's (down by the Loop), a chicken restaurant called Cluck U and a children's museum (both on Franklin Street). And Pepper's Pizza has now taken over the Miami Subs and appears to be clean (er). Airport Rd is now MLK Blvd. But there were also some things missing that I thought would never leave--Hechtor's (I mean can you really end a night of drinking without a Greek Grilled Cheese and fries with a side of taziki sauce) and the Rathskeller (seriously, where else can you eat a vat of cheese in a cave?). Sloan reminded me that it has been a decade, so of course it has changed. But for me, Hechtor's and The Rat were as much a part of Chapel Hill as the Old Well and the Bell Tower. They'd been around for decades.
But some things don't change. It still looks like North Face threw up on Chapel Hill. Girls still wear too tight and too short dresses and then throw a fleece on top. (Why does that even make sense?) Top of the Hill still has overpriced fancy beer. You can still catch a game of darts at Goodfellas. Player's still has a line out front. The bathroom doors at Four Corners still don't close. And the Blue Cups still hold 32 ounces at He's Not Here. (It's just this time there were several orders of Blue Cups of water because, let's face it, there is just no way I can drink 32 ounces of beer fast enough for it not to be piss warm by the end of the cup. I'm already in a bar at midnight, what more do you want from me?)
But it was a blast to be with old friends, meet husbands and kids, and just laugh about what idiots we were in college. Several times I almost peed in my pants. I think the mood can be aptly summed up with the following anecdote---
So we're standing at the crosswalk waiting to cross Airport (I mean MLK), heading back to the parking garage at Nationsbank (I mean B of A) plaza. The light is still flashing the big red hand and someone (I think it was Amy) starts prattling off the words from PD Eastman's Go Dog! Go! Red means stop. Stop dogs! Stop! And then I say, "Do you like my hat?" And then ET said, "No, I do not like your hat." And then the light changed, and suddenly, we all yelled "WHITE MAN. WALK. WHITE MAN. WALK!"