In the morning, those of us at the Tiger Den eventually crawled out of bed and drank a cup of coffee. Then we wandered up to the Library Cafe for a much needed bloody mary and chicken fried steak. I was so hungry. Sitting at a table, wearing regular pants, and not having to go anywhere felt so good.
Back at the Den, we helped Too Much load up his car in preparation for his departure back to Minneapolis. It was hard to see him go, but I was comforted by the fact that I knew he would be back. Many times along the ride he had said something like, "Iowa is great!" And his love for this silly state and the bike ride that goes through it shone out of him.
This was great, because Too Much is just too much fun. It would be hard to imagine another ragby without him. And, it was nice to know that other people actually fall head over heels in love with ragby after just one week, like I had five years before.
Even better, Too Much is Minnesotan, and we all know how Minnesotans feel about Iowa. Actually, I think they don't think about us much at all. But, Too Much would carry the gospel of the land of the fields of opportunity and urination with him back to the great hipster north.
After we waved goodbye to Too Much, it was time to head over to Cutty's to do some last minute gear picking up and dropping off with the The Deb and The Dale. We had to discuss some logistics, and it was part of the long goodbye that is after-ragby life.
Arriving at Cutty's was a bit of a shock. The Ark was there, but it was denuded of tents, coolers, and bikes. Just a camper at a spot with an empty picnic table. Inside, the Ark had the not-so-pleasant but familiar scent of beer, vodka, sweat, and cheese balls. I am not sure the white carpet will ever recover (honestly, who puts white carpet in a camper).
As we chatted over coffee in the breeze of the campground, we talked about the week behind us. The Deb was hooked on ragby: hook, line, and beaver. She couldn't wait for next year. She was already making plans. (Mental note: order flag). The Dale felt different. He said things like, "now I can say I did it," (there's that familiar theme again), and "I only have so much vacation time." He seemed like he probably wouldn't be back again. He hadn't caught beaver-fever.
Eventually, it was time to crack on. The Deb and The Dale had a long ride back to Arkansas, and there was a nap in my future for sure.
In the afternoon, I curled up on the back deck and snoozed off some of my profound weariness.
Was ragby over? Well, I don't consider it over until I get things unpacked, so there's probably a few more blogs in this old beaver. Just you wait.
A Note from Norman: I did nearly nothing productive over spring break and now I am freaking out about a conference I am hosting on my campus on Monday, so apologies for the delays in posting. If you need some great reading, Steven is doing a slo-mo recount of the Hundred Miles of Nowhere over at www.seeteacherrun.blogspot.com
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