Where Everybody Knows Your Name

A big hurrah to Cat and Pete for making my last night in Carrboro memorable (people might say that it's not a good thing to be known by barstaff in a bar four thousand miles away from home, but fie on those people). Helped of course by the game of Taboo played with Collin, Naomi, and Laura, with the assistance of yet more alcohol (in fairness, Laura did say that they had to keep my reputation for drinking up, so I can not be held entirely responsible!).

This time seemed quicker than all the other times I've been here, which is probably because it was only two-and-a-bit weeks rather than my usual stay, although that didn't mean that I packed less, oh no. Laura showed us the interview that she did with her friend Liz today (well, yesterday now), about her hitchhiking and trainhopping adventures. At times, I think that'd be such a wonderful thing to try, at least once, but then I remember that I would end up being the only hobo in history with a trolley case and an iBook. Oh well.

Anyway, I must say that I can't recommend flying American on a Monday night, at least not from RDU to Gatwick. Instead of the usual 777, it's a 767, which has considerably less legroom, and is slower to boot. It also didn't help that we sat in the airport for an hour waiting for more fuel to be added. Grr. Still, I have a whole row to myself, so I guess I can't complain too much.

So that was Carrboro and Chapel Hill for 2005. As usual, filled with lovely and strange people.

Let's also hear it for tempeh!