I got into RDU late on Friday night. The air was hot. Jane picked me up at the airport, it was the first time we’d seen each other in nearly 4 months.

We drove to Carrboro, to Patrick and Abe’s house where I’d be staying. Abe was away at a wedding with Kathleen. Patrick was Patrick. Christy was there, having flown in for the weekend from Seattle, her hometown before coming to Chapel Hill for school. We went out to OCSC, had a few beers, caught up, and went back home for bed.

Saturday morning we walked up to Weaver Street for brunch. It felt familiar, a place I’d lived only a block away from for two years. I could walk to Weaver Street whenever I wanted. I rode my bike by it at least twice a day. It’s a place I love like a person.

Afterwards we caught a matinee showing of the Constant Gardener which has some stunning footage of living conditions in parts of Kenya. Yet another reminder of the desire I have (or think I have) to live and work abroad.

That evening I met up with Phill and Susan. We talked about their trip to France, my work with O’Reilly, and our Measure colleagues from Tulane who have been displaced and disrupted by the hurricane. I went with them to a dinner party held by the owners of Julian’s where I got treated to a low country boil of shrimp, potatoes and corn on the cob. Later Jane came by to grab me and go to Hell, but ended up staying and enjoying some of the boil herself.

So we raced back to Carrboro to change (my third outfit of the day) and went straight to Hell, having missed the traditional preparty at Erik and Niamh’s. I quite enjoyed just showing up on the dance floor quite literally out of nowhere, much to everyones’ surprise. We danced and danced even though it was hot as hell. By the end (2am) my shirt was soaking wet.

Jane and I stopped by her place to make some post dance party vittles (eggs, bacon, and tater tots) before heading back to Carrboro to crash.