It's late April, Foxfield Weekend, which means the masses descend on Central Virginia for horses and carousing, mostly carousing. For UVA alums, its a chance to relive the reverie. Everyone's back and enthused. And Charlottesville rises to the occasion, offering constant reminders of the affection we all had for the place as students. The pillars and brick, trees and leaves, people and bars. Good to be back.
Friday night on the Corner and bars are filling up fast. I pop into one of the smaller ones on Elliewood and Tiki is in the building. I offer a handshake and some light praise, soon we're chattin. He's totally articulate, sincere, really an active listener. We talk for a few minutes, it's like talking to a (really smooth, famous, rich) friend. What are you up to? What brings ya to the Ville? He crosses his arms, nodding, totally in it. What do you plan to do with an MBA? I tell him real estate. Turns out, Tiki's interested, knows some movers and shakers in the city, and has a project going in Virginia. He offers up his email address, suggests we chat more in New York, and we part ways. Tiki Barber, really a cool guy. I take my excited mood to Buddist and celebrate with a few hundred friends (maybe not that many, but it felt that way).
It never rains on Foxfield, despite meteorologists consistent predictions to the contrary. So when rain is forecast for Saturday, everyone dresses up in their seersucker and pastel anyway. And three hours into the event, thousands have gathered at the downs, the sun is out, and people are standing on truckbeds, consuming excessively. There might have been horses running around, too. But before things get out of hand, which typically occurs around 4pm, an announcer gets on the PA and warns of a violent storm headed our direction. Everyone looks up to see what the fuss is about. Almost as if on cue, lightning flashes in the suddenly ominious sky, and just like that, exodus.
Sunday brunch, and several old friends gather on the Biltmore patio to download all that's transpired and say farewell. Three enjoyable hours click away, and soon it's time for everyone to get to their plane, train or automobile. As we all disperse to our own corners of the continent, the inevitable question arises, Coming back next year? Play it by ear. And we all know what that means.
1 comment:
Lewis, I had forgotten about this little blog of yours, and had been a bit busy, but I decided I would join you in the car for a while. 23 posts and one very picturesque Appalachian vista later, I must say that you've built quite an impressive experience for yourself.
I am most impressed with the conversations you are striking up with strangers. Of course, it helps to have some cool stories, and you have those in spades. It really has been a fun read.
Anyways, I know this isn't the end, and this should probably be in email form since it doesn't really pertain to the post (though meeting Tiki was a really cool event), but I would bet anything that you become giddy with excitement whenever there's a comment. I know I would...
Anyways, congratulations, and keep it up, man.
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