I had put my name in for boys class. The closer it got the less I looked forward to it. Almost a year later, the dreaded experience had finally arrived. I had to leave a day earlier than planned to pick up people and tires from North Carolina. I got on the road after loading everything I could ever want and more for the next two weeks. I may be a bit of an overpacker. I was disappointed going through some Appalachian hills. (hills or mountains, it’s debatable) I couldn’t see much of the scenery with the dismal drizzling rain. It didn’t help that I was worried about how class was going to go. So it wasn’t the world’s greatest drive.
The next day we drove southwest, ending up about directly south of my Indiana home. Somewhere along the way I realized that I was driving a huge triangle. (No, that doesn’t have any hidden significance.) The sun was shining, and the temperature climbed as we went south. Spirits were much higher than the day before. We got there late for supper but still in plenty of time for the introductions.
I felt the familiar pit in my stomach as we walked in the doors of the church. That evening is a bit blurred in my mind, but I ended up staying at a nice elderly couple’s home for the night. Sitting there talking, I found myself thinking that this really isn’t so bad. The next two weeks weren’t at all scary like I had made them out to be in my head. It was great to get out of my comfort zone (I need to do that more), and get to know new people. Singing was awesome, something I’ve really grown to love lately. I got a kick out of the foosball table on breaks.
A couple of essays in, I started realizing that I enjoy writing. That was kind of unexpected. I probably complained about it at the time. Those essays inspired me to do more writing, so here we are. The one thing that I didn’t enjoy was giving a talk at the end of the lesson instead of an essay. I can put my thoughts down just fine on paper, I guess I have more time to think about them. Talking from a few notes is a lot harder. It doesn’t help to be nervous and on the edge of uncontrollable laughter the entire time.
We took a boat ride in Port Mobile for the class outing. Everything there was larger than life. The highlight was the S.S. United States, an old gutted ocean liner. It was impressive at 990 feet long, over 100 feet longer than the Titanic. It still holds the transatlantic speed record for an ocean liner. We made a stop at Buc-ee’s on the way back. The highlight of that was probably the bathrooms. They were roughly as big as my future house will be. No more awkwardly waiting in line!
Two weeks went by and before I knew it class was over, the program finished. We went to Pensacola on Saturday. The beach we tried to go to was in a naval base, and we went to the wrong gate the first time. At the right gate, they searched our vehicle, then told us Canadians couldn’t go into the base due to US strikes in Iran. I’m still trying to make sense out of that one. The remainder of us joined the rest of the guys for supper and a round of mini golf. Then we headed back to Walnut Hill for volleyball. I managed to survive that evening. I was exhausted, and pretty peopled out after two weeks of constant socializing. The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Vacation comes to mind. But it was still good to have one last day there.
I finally headed for home the next morning. It was deflating to see the eighty degree temperature drop as I headed north. After ten hours of driving and one time of almost wrecking, I made it home. The temperature was unapologetically down in the thirties. And so the giant triangle saga came to an end.
Class ended up being a great and fulfilling experience. I wouldn’t say that I’m the most extroverted guy out there, but I managed to enjoy it. I learned a lot and made new friends. We made some great memories. And Walnut Hill went above and beyond making us welcome. They deserve a gold star.
One thing I noticed is that I got a lot more out of class than I would’ve one or two years ago. I think twenty plus is a good age for it. But you’re probably more mature than I am, or maybe you’re one of those guys that has their ducks in a row and gets married by twenty. So don’t listen to me, go for it whenever it floats your boat.