Day 1: Boston back to da Trin

First off, let me say that I will use the word "roadtrip" instead of road trip or road-trip for the entirety of the blog as linguistically speaking, the first method of spelling should be the correct term, despite the dotted red line that appears under the word every time I use it. I apologize for this, but the power evoked by the term in regards to the images, emotions and profound experiences it represents is best emphasized when spelled as such--ROADTRIP. With that out of the way, let's get to Day 1, perhaps the most mundane of days as the drive was one I had done hundreds, if not thousands of times during my time at Trinity to return home for the night to do laundry, get a home-cooked meal, or simply ponder life while immersed in the hot tub. As an aside, I must admit that I had become so accustomed to the drive that I knew the precise location of each and every potential cop speed-trap. With a record time of an hour and five minutes between Chestnut Hill and Hartford (average of speed of 89.8 MPH) it was wonder that despite my knowledge of all pig locations, I had multiple speeding violations which had at one point led to the loss of my license during the summer of my Sophomore year. As another aside, I need to point out the stunning fact that after 13,000 miles of driving during the trip, neither Fran nor I had received even a mere warning....silly cops. So, after the drive from Route 9 to 95 North to 90 West to 84 South, we arrived back at the ol Alma Mater. The only reason we had decided to make the trip back to Trinity instead of simply cruising on 90 West through upstate New York on the way westward was to see two of my favorite Rock groups: Santana and the Allman Brothers. Hartford, as usual, was underwhelming, being no less gray, decrepit and ghetto than when I had left school three months prior. Luckily we were able to stay at Kappa for the night instead of holing up at a mediocre hotel. The high point of the afternoon other than the wonderful Kappa lodging at 28 Vernon was finding this legendary picture of the ladies Circa 1984--mullets galore:

After some solo imbibing, we arrived extremely late per usual (if being un-punctual had a definition, Fran and I would have our picture in the dictionary.) As always, both Santana and the Allman Brothers were unreal, ripping up the geeetars as if it was 1969. Not much else to add; we made it back to the abode and slept in lord knows whose bed--it seemed clean enough. Anyway, that marked the end of day 1 and I looked forward to things getting much MUCH more interesting, as we headed westward towards Niagara Falls early the next morning. Many more pictures and bizarre landmarks to come...