Summer Tour 2010

There was a hint of challenge for this trip when I sought out Route 66 on Google Maps, and came up empty. Yes. Really. How ironic for a company out to “organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful,” no?

Of course, there are a number of establishments with Route 66 in the name that Google returned, like Route 66 Roadhouse, Route 66 Pizza and Route 66 Beverage, so it’s not a complete loss. Alas, I was not interested in restaurants or places with Route 66 in the name. I wanted the actual road.  Pavement. A line on a map that runs from Chicago to California. Apparently we’ve erased it from our cognitive as well as digital minds. A Google search returned 11.8 million results, though, so perhaps it hasn’t been completely erased from the digital mind. Sites like Historic Route 66 and Road Trip USA confirmed a sneaking suspicion: Route 66 is really just the Interstate. What fun is that?

With limited time (3 days until I left!) I headed out to a brick-and-mortar book store, also known as Barnes & Noble. I had gift cards from who knows when burning a dictionary-sized whole in my pocket, so it was the logical place to start.

I have a habit when I go to bookstores. I always start in the business section, and if John Battelle’s book, “The Search: How Google and Its Rivals Rewrote the Rules of Business and Transformed Our Culture” is on the shelf, I will find something worth purchasing. If “The Google Story” is also there, then I’m walking out with no less than 3 books. You can see why owning a Kindle is an excellent thing for me: plenty of books, itty bitty shelf space. One thing about the Kindle,though, or at least the K1 I own, is that it is not a good thing to reference while driving, and it completely lacks the ability to show images, like maps. So a physical book was a necessity for this trip.

On this particular visit to Barnes & Noble, only John Battelle’s book was present, so at least I would be walking out with a book, and hopefully on Route 66. I found two, actually. One that provided a series of nice summaries by state, along with turn-by-turn directions, or as I discovered, as turn-by-turn as you can get for the parts I’d be traversing. The other was more pocket-sized, squeezing the history and paths of Route 66 into something more manageable for the solo driver.

In hindsight, it would’ve been prudent to do more than just flip through them, looking at the maps and choosing routes that sounded good. The parts I chose turned out to be a bit disappointing but such is life on the road. I will say, though, that driving through the Ozarks in Missouri was vastly better, in terms of scenery, than the Turnpike. Granted, driving on wet, winding, two-lane roads in completely unfamiliar territory is a little more challenging in the rain. But the Ozarks were still magnificent.

I followed the road through the Ozarks, wondering, on more than on occasion, if I was going in the right direction. I only knew that I was head north, and figured at some point I’d have to run into I-70. The lack of signage still made me nervous, but I took comfort in the fact that all these back roads ran into the interstate at some point. And sure enough, I ran into 63, a familiar number from my undergraduate days. It’d take me right past Jefferson City and on up to Columbia, where I decided I’d stop before continuing home.

I may not have working cruise control, but I do have a working radio and tape deck. Yes, tape deck. My car is that old. In fact, now that Ford is discontinuing its Mercury line, I’ll be driving a classic.

Music is a necessity for a road trip like this. It is a sanity savior on that horrible stretch known as I-55. I know that stretch well from undergrad, and created a playlist to help conquer the boredom that sets in just before Springfield, Illinois.

My Trip playlist was set up so that “Escape,” by Enrique Iglesias, played as I crossed the state line, from Missouri in Illinois. Fitting, no? Since undergrad, though, my music collection has grown so I needed to tweak my Trip playlist. I did some minor tweaking, adding songs that always keep me awake, like “Chelsea Dagger” by The Fratellis, “Woke Up This Morning” (better known as the theme from The Sopranos) by Alabama 3 (A3) and, of course, “Marvo Ging” by the Chemical Brothers.

I stumbled across some new music on this trip, though. And in Wichita, no less. Who knew my friend, with a toddler, is more hip than myself? Or, as she put it, “we’re equally lame in completely different areas.” Still cracks me up.

What new music? Lady Gaga, for starters.

I plead ignorance on this front. I’ve heard the name, and at some point I probably heard her music but never put two-and-two together. I’ve heard she puts on rather outrageous performances, and I know that she is playing at Lollapalooza this year. That, however, was the extent of my knowledge until I actually listened to her music. I was taken aback by the number of jazz elements she uses, from a few different eras of jazz, and work songs. Simple lyrics on every day observations or events. Call and response. Scat. And the arrangements. I don’t know exactly what I thought before but it certainly wasn’t jazz. I admit, I’m a fan. I’m impressed.

Turns out to be really good driving music, too, as long as the speed limit is not 30mph.

I was reminded of another playlist while in Oklahoma. We called it the Rock Quarry Mix.

In Columbia, Missouri, there is a stretch of road that, for those of use living on the south side of town, was a short cut to campus. It avoided the snarling traffic at Providence and Stadium, and got you closer to the main part of campus, too. Rock Quarry is a winding, twisting road where “safety” is the driver employing common sense.

Anyway, my friends and I had traversed the road so often that one of them decided to create a mix, and dub it the Rock Quarry Mix. I had forgotten about it, and the majority of memories associated with it until I listened to it again.

Some time has passed, now, since my return, and it occurs to me what a vital part music plays. For example, whenever the “Superman” theme comes on shuffle, I know it’ll be a good day. And there’s almost always a theme song for each year, though sometimes I don’t know it until the year is half over. Like this year. I found it while in Wichita: “Up!” by Shania Twain, of all people. I would not have even considered a Shania Twain song, but friends music lists can sometimes be a good replacement for Napster. Stumble on random music that just fit the times.

“It can only go up from here.” Indeed.

It is true. Bartlesville, Oklahoma has the only skyscraper designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Called Price Tower, it is constructed completely of angles, and no angle is the same. Quite bizarre, yet cool. Even the elevator is constructed complete of angles. So much so that two people can just fit. How they got furniture up to the 15th floor is beyond me. I pondered that while listening to a local singer perform in the Copper Bar as the sun set, turning the sky various shades of red and orange.  I caught myself thinking I could get used to this.

The pace in Bartlesville is incredibly slow. No one, and I mean no one, was in a hurry. At all. They were content to sit, drink, talk and listen to the music. Even the people standing outside smoking cigarettes seemed to smoke them slower than anyone I have seen. It was an abrupt, yet welcome, change of pace.

Other than Price Tower, the thing that sticks out the most is ConocoPhillips, the city’s biggest employer. If it weren’t for my good friend, who works for the city in urban development, I’d think ConocoPhillips owns Bartlesville. It just seems that way because they have the biggest buildings. They are huge contributors to the community though, in a number of ways. I met some people who work for ConocoPhillips, too, and they speak highly of the company. Not in that “toe the line” manner, but with a genuineness you don’t hear often. There is a sense of pride as an employee of ConocoPhillips, which makes me think they are doing something right.

Pride is big in Oklahoma, too. Dare I say it is the most red state in which I have spent any significant amount of time. They are not shy about it, either. We went to a breakfast at the Women’s League Club, and there were display cases full of historical items from various Indian tribes, all the way up to the present day. It struck me how rich their sense of history is, and how, well, in-your-face it is. Chicago has history, sure, but you often have to go and find it. And it is easy to overlook, especially when you’ve been there for a long time, walk past it so often you forget. Oklahoma keeps it front and center, you have to look at it.

The 4th of July festival was a bit underwhelming, by all accounts.The consensus placed blame on the economy. There was quite a bit of space for rent, from retail/commercial to residential, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to blame the economy. A couple half-hearted, practically joking inquiries yielded incredibly cheap office space, and a few words of encouragement. Perhaps I could get used to this….

People didn’t seem to mind the small fair. There were some booths, an inflatable slide and play area for the kids, a dunk tank that local politicians and others took part in and live music, of course. People came with their chairs and coolers stocked with beer. Some smarter people even brought

umbrellas. Rain had been forecast, and it was certainly hot and humid enough for a storm. It did end up raining, right when the line dancers came out. We headed to a local bar to wait it out, figuring the fireworks might simply be delayed.

I can’t remember the last time I’d been in a bar, let alone in a bar where smoking was allowed inside. Good company, good music, why not? There were a few other patrons, at least one of which my friend knew. Seems working for the city in urban planning means you get to know everyone, and everyone knows you. There was not a single place we went to where she didn’t know someone, or someone didn’t know her. Nothing like paling around Oklahoma with a local celebrity.

The rain didn’t let up until after 10pm at which point the fireworks seems a wash. We went back to her house, and put on some tunes. The Rock Quarry mix, to be exact. Fond memories of college, so we sat on her front porch and reminisced a bit. And low and behold, fireworks! The people on the west side of town were having their own show, and the fireworks were above the tree line so we could see them, too.

I caught myself thinking hey, just one more day. Leave July 6 instead of July 5. Why not? If my friend didn’t have a city council meeting in the evening, I probably would have stayed an extra day. Alas, it was time to push on, and see what Route 66 had to offer. Still had the sense I could get used to the slower pace of Bartlesville, but there was a hint that it would not last long.

Never ye mind. There is still Route 66 to traverse, from Bartlesville to Springfield, MO and then a branch on up to Jefferson City, MO. My only hope was that the weather would hold.

So on Friday, July 2, I left Wichita for Oklahoma City. What was billed as a 2 hour ride turned into a decidedly longer ride. Remember how I said the Turnpike takes “limited access” to the extreme, and that an accident would be a bad thing? I meant bad for any injured parties, but it turns out an accident on the Turnpike is bad for all parties. Why? Because there is no off ramp, meaning the only way to get off the Turnpike is to drive to the end. Hard to do when a semi tracker-trailer has rolled over, collapsed on itself and spilled its contents. No one was hurt, thankfully.

The Turnpike becomes a parking lot when there is an accident. Granted, the lady at the booth said there was an accident, that it had just happened but she had no other details. I’m from Chicago. Accidents happen. Traffic slows down. I once drove past a two-car collision that I had missed by mere minutes. The second car was still spinning when I passed. It didn’t occur to me that traffic would come to a complete halt. For 40 minutes. It didn’t take long for the more experienced Turnpike drivers to roll down their windows, turn off their engines and get out of their cars. Some wandered up and down the lanes, talking with others who had stepped out. A couple power walked past, on their way down to the accident site. The people in the red pick up truck let their dog out. It was rather interesting to watch people mill about, lean against the concrete barrier separating the two sides, converse or just stare off into space. And it was interesting to see the tidal wave of movement as people started rushing back to their vehicles. A couple cops came down to let us know we’d be moving again rather quickly. And move quickly we did. I give them credit for that. Once we got moving, we were moving.

So it was onward to Oklahoma City, the Will Rogers Botanic Gardens and the Route 66 Park. There was still time, and I had an inclination to make up some time but, um, there is no such thing as speeding on the Turnpike. Granted, the speed limit is 75mph in Oklahoma, but the cops have no trouble pulling you over for going faster. Passed a few who got caught. And people don’t bunch into packs on the Turnpike either, which makes it harder to blend in and speed. Who knew discrepancies in driving habits of other states extended beyond the inability merge?

I got to Oklahoma City later than expected, but still with plenty of time, or so I thought. The Will Rogers Botanic Gardens were cool from the road, but once I turned the corner, I saw baseball and soccer fields. Seems the best part was driving past. I opted not to pull in and have a look. I was more interested in the Route 66 Park, and time was tight as I wanted to avoid rush hour traffic.

What did I find at the Route 66 Park? Better question: did I find the Route 66 Park? A book I got on Route 66 made note of the fact that it is poorly labeled. In fact, labeling varies widely by state. Illinois does a decent job, but Missouri and Oklahoma do not. I followed what signs I could find, and followed the directions to the park from the park website. What did I find? The Route 66 Boathouse. Not exactly what I had in mind, but oh well. There was a boat launch, with some boats getting ready to go, and a few out on the water already. I wandered around a little while I ate an apple, and found it to be rather underwhelming and not very interesting. Either we’ve done a really good job of erasing Route 66 by building large, ornate houses, or I needed to have turned left instead of right. Curiosity got the best of me, so I got back in the car and headed back towards the direction from which I had come, passed the turn and continued on. Sure enough, there was the park, and the road continued on around a bend that didn’t look all that enticing. There was a nifty looking dam, though, so I got out to take a look. There were people down below fishing, the water was low enough that they could stand on the sand bar and fish. There was a motor boat zipping around out in the distance. I followed a guy on a cell phone up a flight of stairs and saw the walk way. Rather cool looking. More ornate than I expected. Vaguely reminded me of something out of a Sherlock Holmes movie. And probably a little treacherous at night, if you don’t know your way around.

Oh, did I mention it was hot? And humid. Quite humid. It being a holiday weekend, and still three hours until my final destination, I opted to get back in the car. When I got back to the parking lot, there were a couple other cars there. Dark colored cars with dark tinted windows and the bass turned up a little too much. Route 66 seems to have other uses these days.

The rest of the trip to Bartlesville was uneventful. No other accidents. Not very interesting scenery. Tulsa does have a skyline, though, so to speak. And it amazes me how simple it is to maneuver around these other cities. I hadn’t realized that Chicago, for its grid-like layout, can be confusing and difficult to maneuver, especially during road construction. I was looking forward to getting to Bartlesville though, and off the road for a bit. I had no expectations for Bartlesville. We’ll see how that worked out…

I haven’t had Internet access since I left Wichita, hence the lack of blogging. I’m writing from a Hampton Inn in Columbia, Missouri before I pack up and head back home to Chicago.

The trip has been fun. It was awesome to see college friends, reminisce and talk about the future. A rather low key vacation, too, which was nice. No solid plans. Just show up, see what happens.

One thing is for sure, though: I must get my cruise control fixed before the next road trip.

I’m about to set off for Oklahoma, which requires traversing more of the Turnpike. Weather forecast calls for rain. Flat land, Turnpike and rain. Recipe for an adventure? Perhaps.

My OK friends have regular jobs, so with time to kill, and as I mentioned in my last post, I’m heading to Oklahoma City to see the Route 66 Park and the Will Rogers Park and Horticultural Gardens. If it is raining, well, I’ll find something indoors to do before driving up to Bartlesville. Weather forecast for Bartlesville is rain for the holiday weekend, which does not bode well.

But this is part of traveling, by foot, car, boat, train or plane. Weather is a factor, one way or another. The key is not to let is spoil the trip, which reminds me of Bill Bryson’s books. Weather isn’t perfect in the UK, nor on the Appalachian Trail. Sometimes, it makes the trip that much more memorable…in a good way.

OK. Enough dilly dallying. Time to pack up and hit the road.

Wishing everyone a safe and happy 4th of July…

Wichita, KS. Population: roughly 366,046. Known for being the Aviation Capital of the World. I’ve been to Wichita before. Twice, actually, to visit friends. Once when they lived in a duplex, which was more space at half the rent I paid for my 1-bedroom in Chicago, and again in January of this year. They had moved to a house since then, and started a family. Nice house, too. Typical southern Plain suburbia with an awesome front porch, rehabbed kitchen and super nice hardwood floors. You can really stretch a dollar down here, and come out with some nice goods. I figured that was about all that was good about Wichita, other then the friends who live there. Then again, this was the first time I’d be spending more than a weekend, so there might be more to Wichita than meets the eye.

Turns out that is true. Wichita may not look like much, but it has something to offer even city folk like myself. I’ll be the last to admit it, but Wichita is kind of growing on me.

On Monday, we went to the Wichita zoo. Well, technically the Sedgwick County Zoo. It was actually pretty cool. I’ve been to the Milwaukee Zoo, Brookfield Zoo and of course, the Lincoln Park Zoo, but it occurred to me that it has been a few years since I’ve been to any of those, let alone any zoo. I kind of figured they were all the same. Perhaps it’s the gap in age and visits, or perhaps visiting the zoo is viewed through the new experiences of an entrepreneur, but not all zoos are the same.

One of the cool things at the Sedgwick County Zoo is the Jungle.It is an enclosed space that is as close to the jungle in look, feel, smell and animals as one can get without physically going to the jungle. There are signs posted about closing the doors so the birds don’t escape. Various birds you’d find the jungle do, in fact, fly freely throughout the place. Ones that don’t fly waddle, or wander, around. It was pretty cool. I was in awe. Literally. And what is a jungle without fruit bats?! It took a minute to realize that they were fruit bats and not, well, other kinds of bats. Of course, the sign helped, too. There were just so many bats. I had never seen so many in one place, in real life before. It was a little unnerving, but also quite cool. They look bigger in person than they do on TV, that’s for sure. We hurried through that part, along with some other people. The fruit bats didn’t seem to care though, or notice. And that is perfectly OK.

Yeah, so birds roam freely around the place. All types of birds. Some are pretty quick, andtiny, which helped to illustrated a down side of taking pictures with a Droid: slow shutter speed. But I did manage to snap this one, which turned out well. Two birds I’d never seen up close before. And the bright plumage of the scarlet macaw against the darker plumage of the blue victoria pigeon set against the green and brown of the jungle offered a nice contrast.

We also saw the Cessna Penguin Cove (ironic, no?), amphibians and reptiles, and the tigers and giraffes near, and in, the Africa exhibit. Not a bad day to spend a Monday, and before it got really hot. And yes, it does get hot in Wichita. Rather quickly, I might add.

It turns out, there is, in fact, a river that runs through Wichita, in a manner of speaking. Right by the Mid-America All-Indian Center, where the Keeper of the Plains keeps watch. It is also near Exploration Place, a rather niftily designed structure. We went for a walk along the river, the Arkansas River (pronounced ARE-Kansas), Wednesday afternoon. The bridges are nicely, and tastefully, done. Sometimes it seems more thought goes into pedestrian bridges than overpasses or other vehicle-related bridges. There were a few other people out, enjoying the nice weather. It was the best day yet, weather-wise. Not too hot, about 85ish, and low humidity. Perfect afternoon for a walk.

The Keeper of the Plains is a big Indian statue, and every night during the summer there’s a fire ceremony. There are large stones that surround the Keeper, and they have gas grates over them that, as you might expect, are lit at night. I’m told there is a ceremony with lots of recorded music, and that it is kind of cool. Fire is involved, so what’s not cool about that? Alas, didn’t get a chance to see it this trip, so another reason to come back.

All in all, it was an awesome visit. Wichita isn’t all bad. And it has excellent frozen custard. We went to a place called Freddy’s Frozen Custard & Steakburgers. It’s a local joint that serves awesome frozen custard. There’s a sign inside that declares frozen custard to be a “frequently misunderstood product” because it is actually a “gourmet ice cream treat.” There’s a special process for making frozen custard, and Freddy’s has its own unique method, which it uses to produce fresh frozen custard throughout the day. I must say, they do a excellent job.

So thus ends my week in Wichita. Tomorrow I head for Oklahoma. I’ve decided to check out the Route 66 Park, and the Will Rogers Park and Horticultural Gardens in Oklahoma City before heading to Bartlesville. Spending the holiday weekend with friends in Bartlesville, then getting my kicks on Route 66.

Getting to Wichita is as far from complicated as one can get. Shoot straight through Missouri on 70, catch 470 down to Lee’s Summit and then hop on 35 south to Emporia which will take you to the Kansas Turnpike. I expected it to be a little complicated, perhaps some unmarked construction detours or something, but it was smooth sailing and not quite as boring as expected considering it’s Kansas.

Turnpike, it turns out, is a fancy word for toll road, but it is nothing like the toll road of Illinois. The only commonality is a fee. In Illinois, you pay the fee at certain points on, say 294, and if you have an I-PASS, you just zip through without a thought. If you’re careful, you’ll obey the speed limit and slow down while passing through lest you get a speeding ticket, but I have yet to see someone slow down when passing through the “open toll.” The Kansas Turnpike, on the other hand, requires you take a ticket at the beginning, in a manner similar to taking a ticket at the entry to the short term parking garage at O’Hare airport.

The Kansas Turnpike takes you through an area called Flint Hills, which reminded me of my trip to Ireland. Rolling hills of lush, green pasture punctuated by random groups of cattle. Sky is that beautiful soft blue, with wisps of clouds that stretch out across the landscape. Picturesque.

The Turnpike is not a good place to have an accident, or problems with the car. I remember the term “limited access” highway from Driver’s Ed, way back when, but did not fully comprehend the meaning until I was on the Turnpike. In Illinois, there are “limited access” highways, like 294, which basically means that you can only enter and exit at certain points. And until you get closer to the southern part of the state, past Plainfield, you can reasonably expect to find civilization in case of trouble. The Turnpike completely discards that notion and takes the term “limited access” to an extreme I had not experienced. I highly suggest filling your gas tank in Emporia before getting on the Turnpike. There are oasis’s, mind you, but few and far between. I’m not exactly sure how troopers find out about accidents, but they do. There was a minivan that swerved way off the road and into the pasture. A trooper came zooming past me, and raced ahead. I came upon the incident a few minutes later. Hard to tell what happened, but it looked like there were no injuries, which was good. I think they’d have to use a helicopter to get seriously injured people out.

I wondered how one would report an accident. In Illinois, there are mile markers, and on a couple of occasions, especially during the winter, my dad has called in accidents or stranded motorists and used the mile marker as a reference point. There aren’t mile markers on the Turnpike, though. Instead, the bridges are numbered. It’s ingenious, actually. In big, white paint, each bridge has a number stenciled on it so you can’t miss it. How’s that for safety?

There were also signs about pulling over and waiting for smoke to clear. I learned later that they do brush burning, or something like it, to clear parts of the pasture. The smoke can get very thick, so they encourage motorists to pull over and wait for it to clear. Makes sense. There was no smoke on my trip, so that experience will have to wait.

I arrived in Wichita while it was still light, weaved my way through street parking for a Little League game and found the house after realizing I was looking on the wrong side of the street. I needed to look on the even side, not the odd. And yay for cars in the driveway.

And now I am in Wichita, Kansas. For the second time this year, as a matter of fact, and staying a week instead of 4 days. Curious to see what Wichita has to offer…

As a graduate of Mizzou, what’s a trip through Missouri without a stop at campus? Columbia, MO, is also in the middle of the state, making it unavoidable on the way to Kansas. Actually, I hadn’t planned to stop in CoMo. I was going to drive straight through to KC, and stop in KC to fuel up, see what there is to see before heading down to Wichita. Except there’s this thing called social media, and in this case, Facebook, that created a demand for a stop in CoMo. Nothing like meeting old friends for lunch in the town where you spent some formative years.

The drive to CoMo is the same as I remember it: rolling and boring. And long. The last 20-30 miles seem to take for…ev…er…

We met up at a place called Quintin’s in downtown CoMo, a well-known establishment conveniently located to what used to be the “freshman” bar whose name I have forgotten. It has since changed its name, too, and downtown has undergone some changes since the last time I visited. I was in CoMo last July for a wedding, but as anyone who’s been in a wedding knows, little else happens not related to the wedding. There was little time to wander around and see what’s new. Alas, with no obligations, other than to get to Wichita before dark, wandering was required. Plus, as I’ve discovered, driving long distances with no cruise control makes the gas pedal leg crampy. A good walk around town, and campus, meant I could stretch my legs a bit.

Naturally, I arrived at Quintin’s early so took a stroll through the Quad, passing a brand new expansion of the Methodist church on the corner. I can’t remember what used to in that spot, probably a parking lot, but the new part seems to dwarf everything else in the area, even the Missouri Theatre. And the Missouri Theatre went digital with its marquee, and looked to have had a facelift as well. Gone is its retro look. Pity. I saw a screening of Rear Window there as an undergrad, and the preview was for Psycho. Someone, somewhere, dug up Alfred Hitchcock’s movie introduction for Psycho. It was pretty awesome, as only Hitchcock can be.

Downtown isn’t the only one undergoing changes. The University is doing some restoring/renovating of the columns, but it looked nice all the same. The new journalism complex looks new and snazzy, while the rest of the Quad looks like its old, sturdy self. Many a lecture in the Geology building as it had one of the bigger auditoriums. Fun times in anthropology lab, and there is an art museum somewhere I vaguely remember entering for an art history assignment.

Lunch at Quintin’s was nice. Good food. Gigantic turkey and avocado sandwich, which meant I wouldn’t need to eat again until I got to Wichita. Good conversation, caught up on the goings on of a few other friends. Always nice to learn what people have been up to the past year or so.

Being the intelligent road tripper than I am, I didn’t bother to print off a map of the route to Wichita. Why? Because I have a Droid which has Google Maps. Who needs to waste paper by printing out a picture of the route? Except that driving in unfamiliar areas while glancing at a map on a screen is slightly less than safe. And yes, there is a GPS-like function, I just didn’t figure that out before I set off. Part of the fun is not knowing exactly how to get wherever it is I’m going at any particular time. But, there is something to be said for having a visual reference point for the off chance of getting lost.

So I went back to Memorial Union, and down to the Craft Studio where my friend works and printed off a map of the route in Wichita. Getting to Wichita is the easy part. Getting to the house is slightly more complicated. Wichita does get credit, though, for having more normal intersections than  St. Louis, or CoMo. I may never understand stoplights at non-existent intersections, or intersections that aren’t intersections.

Map folded neatly and placed in pocket, I went for a more in depth stroll around campus. The first big shocker was Brady Commons and the University Bookstore. It now stands where the Brady Commons parking lot used to be. I remember there being a big debate about expanding Brady and the bookstore, which was impossible to do without building over the parking lot. Since parking was already in short supply in and around campus, people, especially students, didn’t like the idea. I don’t remember the issue being resolved before I graduated, but clearly it was resolved and they built right over the parking lot. Good thing to. The bookstore is absolutely amazing now. It’s two floors, with the textbooks being on the bottom and all the merchandise and cool stuff being on the first floor, right when you walk in. They’ve upgraded their merchandise, too. Stuff I actually want to purchase, which I did. Bought a couple shirts and a visor. A white visor. I got sunburned walking around St. Louis for 3 hours or so, and figured a visor would be a really good idea since I’ll be outside, in the sun, often, for the duration of the trip. Still expensive merchandise, but an improvement over what it was when I was an undergrad. And Brady Commons will be just as awesome, when it’s finished.

From there I followed the route I walked many many times to my dorm. Past the Rec Center, which has also undergone a major renovation and expansion, and is again far superior to what it was when I was an undergrad. I was brought up short, however, by what turned out to be two new dorms. We’re talking state-of-the-art dorms, complete with central air and enhanced security. No doubt there are other amenities, probably wifi and a nice common area. I was tempted to go inside, but there were security cameras at each entry point, a feature non-existent when I was an undergrad, and it’s summer which made me think the dorms are probably closed. Most of the dorms were closed for the summer, with few exceptions. Still, they were pretty snazzy looking dorms from the outside. Made me wonder what my old dorm looked like now, which also made me wonder if it still existed. The dorms I lived in my freshman year were torn down and replaced my junior or senior year. An omen, perhaps? Curiosity got the best of me, and with all the construction going around where my dorm was, I had an inkling it was gone, or soon would be.

Sure enough, Cramer Hall was fenced off and waiting to be demolished. Some fond memories of that dorm. The time some dorm mates bought special home made soap at a local market, and thought it’d be cool to put them on the radiators in the lounge. Except the soap wasn’t exactly fragrant. No one went into the lounge for over a week. And there was the time I sat in the hallway at 2am, picking a piece of glass out of my foot with toenail clippers. Or the time some other dorm mates thought it’d be awesome to light their books on fire at the end of the semester, and toss them in the dumpster. Except no one bothered to check if there was anything flammable in the dumpster already. Yep. Fun times indeed.

My two hours of meter time were about up, so it was time to head back to the parking garage. Yeah, but you know what I was missing? The written directions to the house in Wichita! Of course. I left them on the desk at the Craft Studio, so a trek back to Memorial Union was in order. And thankfully it was on the way back to the parking garage, right down Hitt Street, another frequent route I took as an undergrad.

Map and written directions in hand, time to head on down to Wichita.