The First of the Lasts

Peter: In case you were wondering, the panic attacks continue. Whatever groovy, mind-altering substances Sara will be treated to in the delivery room, they had better hook me up with some. I mean, Sara works for our State government, which means we have that “Cadillac” health insurance. So, I’m sure they can at least sort me out with 20 mg of Valium. Hell, I’ll even take its generic equivalent.

This past weekend, Sara and I took what would be our final “vacation” as non-parents*. Ignoring any advice to the contrary from her mother-in-law (which is what I suppose you do with a mother-in-law, even though mine is AWESOME…and may well be reading this), Sara drove out of a snowbound Trenton to meet me in Chapel Hill, NC, where I was wrapping up a three-day business trip.

My travels occasionally take me to big university towns, and I generally despise them all. It’s probably just jealousy, as I received my post-secondary education at a smaller school that was a whopping 40 miles from home and competed in NCAA Division III athletics. So, it was a welcome treat, to not have to spend another night alone in that town of powder blue-clad, middle-aged frat boys.

We enjoyed a fantastic Turkish dinner on Franklin Street, and called it a night. The next morning, we headed up to Richmond, VA, which would be our jumping-off point for visits to the Museum of the Confederacy, the Edgar Allan Poe Museum, and the wonders of Colonial Williamsburg. I learned that:

· Richmond has come a long way since I’d last traveled there on business, some 15 years ago. Definitely not a horrible city.
· Jefferson Davis was an awesome, misunderstood Renaissance Man.
· There are striking parallels between “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” and the Civil War-era debate over whether blacks were capable of becoming decent soldiers.
· Millions of miles of cheesy, unwatchable celluloid have exploited the legacy of Edgar Allan Poe over the years.
· There are things to do in Williamsburg that do not involve roller coasters and beer.

From Richmond, we headed out toward Hampton Roads, for my first ever trip on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. That was groovy. This was followed by what seemed like a five hour trek up the Delmarva Peninsula, which went a little something like this: poultry confinement facility, vacant storefront, church, church, vacant storefront, church, poultry confinement facility, church, poultry confinement facility. Repeat.

We eventually made Ocean City, MD, and enjoyed a long walk on a boardwalk that was desolate, even by winter-at-the-shore standards. Dinner was a ridiculous orgy of crab meat, enjoyed through a haze of martini and chardonnay.

Monday morning, we packed up fifty pounds of dirty clothes and pointed the car northward. I’d never taken the Cape May Lewes Ferry before. It was a lot of fun, until I realized the travel was wearing on me, and remarked to no one in particular “Ya know, this is neat and all, but had we instead just driven through Delaware, we’d be home by now.” Following the 80-minute crossing, the drive home from Cape May was definitely not the highlight of the weekend.

Why did I just bore you with the details of our weekend getaway? Because it will never happen again. Not like that. No figuring the whole mess out a mere ten days in advance and just Getting Away. As much as I’m looking forward the next chapter in our life, it would be dishonest of me not to admit that I found the whole trip bittersweet, in that way.

Thus went the first notable “last” I experienced, as we hurtle toward the blessed day that will change our life forever, and in the best way imaginable. More “lasts” are sure to follow, as I go through the upcoming weeks and months, doing heretofore mundane things that I take for granted.

You will be able to read about them here, because I am a sadist at heart.

*Actually, let’s get real for a minute: for all practical purposes, Sara already IS a parent, I reminded myself, as she watched me consume copious amounts of craft beers, fine wines and distilled spirits while she “enjoyed” her cranberry & club soda cocktails. I’m sure the paybacks will be a bitch.