The last days of my Huntsville experience went by as quickly as
any week I had experienced in my life. There was so much to do and
see: Pack up the apartment, finish up projects at work and go to
places that we deemed important to go to before leaving
Huntsville.

My last weekend in Huntsville was oddly reminiscent of my first
weekend there. Brian had said goodbye to the girlfriend he had
acquired during the summer the previous Tuesday, as she had to
return to Auburn to prepare for sorority rush, so we were once
again a team to go out and live it up. What did we do?

We went to a movie, of course. This time, though, our fellow
intern Brooke, decided to come along and act as our “buffer,” so
that people wouldn’t mistake us for being a couple. It really
wouldn’t have mattered if the people in the theater had thought us
gay, but it is just one of those things we do more out of habit
than because of any rational train of thought. Anyways, against our
better judgment, we saw American Wedding.

It was horrible.

At work, my last week coincided with the last week of an
orientation course I was forced to take, so it was completely
worthless. I learned very little at best, and it took all my effort
not to fall asleep.

As Brian explained it, “The entire point of this week is to
survive, and nothing else.” Luckily, the attendance policy afforded
a day and a half of absences, so that people could get back to
their jobs and make sure that no great accidents or incidents had
occurred while they were away. Brian and I used this time to sleep
in, watch television and pack.

It is scary how much one acquires during a summer of doing
nothing. I had a closet of clothes, bedding, a computer, pots,
pans, plates, dishes, a microwave and countless other knick-knacks
that would have to fit inside my little car. Thankfully, it all
fit.

I used one of the last vacation days to take off my last day of
official work so that I could drive home a day early, to see my
parents.

Brian was staying to catch a bus to Birmingham, where his
girlfriend would be waiting to take him back to Auburn for a few
days. This meant I would have to make the trek back to Columbus all
by myself, a proposition I did not look forward to.

Still, I woke up at 7 a.m. to get ready to go, and was off by 8
a.m.

Once again, Huntsville driving was nuts, but it got better by
the time I hit Tennessee. I hit my peak driving skills driving
through Nashville. To the untrained eye, the collision of four or
five interstates at one point would breed an atmosphere of
confusion and frustration. Not for me, though.

The first time I hit heavy traffic was in Louisville, which was
nothing surprising. I weathered it fine and kept on my way, praying
for it not to rain. You see, dear reader, I had driven through
Kentucky three previous times that summer, and each time I had to
drive through torrential rains. This time, I hoped, would be
different.

It started raining about 20 miles from the Ohio River, just as
the Cincinnati traffic started backing up. The rain followed me for
the rest of my trip, dousing the I-71 right up all the way into
Columbus.

As I hit Cincinnati, something very grave occurred to me: Ohio
drivers are not good–at all.

Eventually, I made it home, where a hot dinner and my bed had
both been made. Ah, I missed home. Two days of shopping and
golfing, however, and I was back on the road again, coming to this
fair school, to help lay out this paper for the student body.

It is funny how things that seem to move so slowly at the time
actually moved faster than anyone could fathom. That is how my
summer went, as I now look back upon it. In a way, the monotony
made things move much faster, as days blurred into weeks rather
than days lasting all night. Frankly, monotony is underrated, and I
cannot wait to get back to it as soon as possible.

I have a few thank-you’s to offer for this summer, if I could be
so indulgent:

Thanks to Matt Emerson, for letting me ramble on about my boring
summer; thanks to Brian O’Rourke, for putting up with my
eccentricities for so long and with such a great sense of humor;
thanks to Brooke and Nichole, for dragging me out of the apartment
on the weekends; a special thanks goes out to Diane Stagg, who
arranged this for all of us.

And finally, I would like to thank you, the reader, for finding
me interesting enough to read this far and, hopefully, for reading
my previous installments.

I swear, I won’t try this again.

Drew Ewing is a junior studying aerospace
engineering.