So, I did end up going to Chicago on Saturday. That was an interesting experience, mainly because the 30% chance of showers ended up being extreme downpour. It was merely gloomy when I arrived, so I saw no issue in taking the subway down to the University of Chicago campus. But, basically as soon as I saw the first building on campus, the pour started. Though I got soaked, it was really cool seeing the very pretty and Hogwarts-esque campus in the rain. I regret it not. When I got back downtown, I was still soaking wet, so I saw no problem staying out in the rain. I walked around downtown, garnering odd looks from pretentious umbrella owners. They acted as if they had never seen a wet person before.
The other interns didn't arrive until yesterday afternoon, so I had the weekend to myself. I explored the town, did a number of Wal-Mart runs to put together my room, and read two books (which I am glad to have the time to be able to do again). Whenever I went out to eat (no meal plan until camps get here) or went to a store, it dawned on me that this is the first time in my life that I have lived outside of Wyoming, and I literally know no one. I am completely anonymous—finally there is a town where people don't know my parents and no one I went to high school with is lurking around the aisle in the store. It's kind of a refreshing feeling, though a strange one at that.
The other interns are four girls—yes, I am the only guy of the lot. Three have arrived, but we're still waiting on the last one to arrive later today. They all seem nice, as do all the professionals at Valpo I've met so far. Our "Big Boss" is Larry, the Director of the Union. On Friday, he pulled outside of the hall I'm staying in with his wife in their convertible Volvo. He stepped out of the car wearing a Yankees jacket. It wasn't until yesterday that I told him I'm a Red Sox fan. We, of course, are obliged to give each other crap this summer. Sorry, Larry, but the Red Sox are #1 in the AL East. Better luck next season.
Last night we had a lovely barbeque at Larry's house. It was there that I garnered the nickname "Target." Here's the story: One of the res life guys was telling us that there is a girl staff member named Korey who we would meet this summer. As this is also my name, the girls decided I needed a nickname to set me apart (apparently gender isn't enough of a distinction? Or, perhaps it was because I vetoed "Boy Corey." That sounds like I'm an overly eclectic glam rock singer). After no viable ideas were presented, I excused myself to use the restroom. When I came back, one of the girls asked me, "How about Target?" What I didn't know was that the conversation had moved to where we all wanted to buy some incidentals for our rooms. Still thinking we were on the Corey-needs-a-nickname shtick, I responded with a confused, "Why Target?" After the confusion was cleared up, they decided that it actually fit. Nicknames are supposed to be "discovered" by accident, right? And so it began ...
We start training tonight, amid a severe thunderstorm warning. It should be loads of fun, especially if we get sent to the basement for a tornado warning (which happened to me on Sunday, actually). Hopefully I won't need to put my newly-acquired First Aid, CPR, or AED skills to use this immediately (I would prefer not to ever need them), but depending on the time terror strikes, I may just be equipped to deal with injuries!
Anyway, that's it for now. This is Target, signing off for Sandboxes and Mimzies ... good night! ... erm, day? (P.S. it is night in some parts of the world, so be quiet.)
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