My Life Has Come Full Circle

I was planning on waiting to share this story until I could go to my parents' house, rifle through pictures, and find proof , scan said-proof onto my mom's computer, email said-proof to myself and then save it somewhere on my computer . That is just too much work so you're going to have to take my word for it.

Last weekend Paul and I went to Homecoming at Christopher Newport (hereafter referred to as CNU). CNU, for those who don't know, is a dry campus. They don't allow a drop of alcohol on their campus, even if the embiber is 21 or older. This, naturally, was alarming for me as I went to Roanoke College where classes are sometimes held at the bar and the biggest, drunkest party of the year is held, you guessed it, on campus. In celebration of this year's homecoming, the school decided to hold a tailgate prior to the game that would allow those in attendance to legally consume alcohol on the campus that forbade them from doing so for four (or more, who knows, I don't judge their education plans) long years. All you had to do was buy a special orange tailgating parking tag for what I took to be the rather hefty price of $20.00 and they could drink to their little hearts' content without being hassled by anyone. And after years of on-campus-consuming-suppression, these guys did it up right. There was corn hole and grilling and, in one very interested instance, a satellite dish that was broadcasting ESPN all morning to one incredibly prepared group of people.

As I stood in my muppet gloves, nursing a beer and not fully appreciating this momentous occasion quite as much as everyone around me was, I was suddenly transported back to a very warm day in Richmond when I was 10 years old and in the 4th grade. On this, the second day of Spiller Primary School's "Tour of Virginia" that included Monticello, Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, and Richmond (far from all-encompassing if you ask me), I was standing outside of the state capital, having just walked past the governor's mansion. For whatever reason, I looked up and back toward the mansion that we had just passed, and saw someone familiar, someone from my tv. I saw who I was absolutely positive, was our then-governor, George Allen. I said as much to my chaperone and the other girls in my group. The girls were uninterested as they were 10 and distracted by thought of the issue Teen Beat that awaited them on the bus. My chaperone, however, had the gall to doubt me. In fact, she told me that I was incorrect. Ten seconds later she was the one making an ass out of herself when she was said, "No Trista, if that was the governor he'd be surrounded by lots of body guards." At that point, on of the body guards who was surrounding him looked at her and said, "Who do you think we are, ma'am?" That was perhaps the greatest "told ya so" moment of my entire life.

Anyway, just as I saw Governor George Allen on that hot day in Richmond in 1996 and no one believed me, as I looked up from my beer and my shivering, I saw Senator George Allen on a cold day in Newport News in 2009 and, surprise surprise, Paul didn't immediately believe me. Granted, he didn't tell me I was wrong, he just didn't think it would make sense for a Senator to be at CNU's homecoming tailgate. He very quickly believed me and the Political Science major in him got really excited. I immediately went into paparazzi mode and decided that I had to get my picture taken with him again because wouldn't that be awesome? And I could tell him about that day in the 4th grade and we'd have a good laugh and then we'd grab a cup of coffee and fill each other in on what's been going on for the past 13 years. Okay, so that part didn't exactly happen; however, I did tell him that 13 years ago I recognized him and my chaperone didn't and that my entire 4th grade got a picture with him (then one that I'm too lazy to track down). And I got a picture with him. And he said hopefully it wouldn't be another 13 years before we run into each other again. I think that means we're friends. Maybe I'll invite him to the wedding...probably not. At any rate, I give you now, the photographic proof of my 2009 meeting with Senator George Allen. You may one day receive proof of my 1996 meeting with Governor George Allen, but probably not.

Also, because pictures are being uploaded I have another to share. I was in Bastian, VA for work last week. Chances are you've probably never heard of it because it's in Bland County and and pretty sure they literally have no stop lights. But I was there, trying to convince the pharmacy at their only drug store that she should let a sales agent sit in her store once a week and talk to old people about Medicare. As I turned onto the road leading to the pharmacy, I saw this gem of a sign and had to capture it to share with anyone who I thought would laugh along with me.

In case you can't quite make out the words there, it says, "Welcome to Bastian, Virginia". Beneath that it says, "History and Industry". And beneath that it says absolutely nothing at all. That's correct folks, there is no history or industry in Bastian, VA, which makes me wonder why they invested the money in buying the sign.

Please feel free to notice the desolate wasteland that appears to surround this and the other signs that are essentially directing you out of town.