ROAD TRIP!!!

October-ish. Senior year of high school. My BFF at the time asked me to go with her to visit her boyfriend in college. Road trip?
Oh yeah!

I don’t remember who drove those two hours there and back – it wasn’t me but maybe her? – because all I can remember was that feeling of pure freedom. We were headed to a place where kids barely older than us were living their lives without daily parental supervision.

Now, I’d always been blessed with parents, who gave me just enough space and opportunity to thrive, to shine and… to make (minor) mistakes. So, I wasn’t surprised they let me go. Looking back, though, I guarantee that from the moment they said yes to the time I got home in one piece, they’d bitten their fingernails clear through to the second knuckles.

Yet, there I was with my friend, on the road, talking and laughing and letting the proverbial wind blow through our long blond-ish hair, heading toward… Toward what exactly?

I’d never been to Columbia, Missouri, before. I’d never truly been on any college campus. I only knew we’d be camping out on the floor of the boyfriend’s friend’s (a girl) dorm room. Or, wait. Only I would. My BFF was staying with her guy. All righty, then.

I didn’t have time to fully panic about it, though. That Friday night, we were off to a fraternity mixer, and the boyfriend had fixed me up with Ken, a college sophomore, who was the nicest, kindest introduction to fraternity life. The next night, my date was, well, not the polar opposite, but Dan, a junior, was known to party-drink (as most did) and partake in then-illegal substances. When he found out that I didn’t do either, he refrained. We fell into easy conversation to and from the locale somewhere way out in the country. About what? Doesn’t matter.

I just remember matching the raucous mood of others in that party barn and dancing with such abandon that the next morning before my friend and I left for home, I’d heard that Dan had needed to correct his fraternity  brothers: I’d been fully sober and so had he (or mostly), which shocked them all.

I came away from that weekend learning two things about myself.
1. Wherever I might go to college the next year, I could hold my own, which was a huge revelation to this very shy and quiet high school girl.
2. I didn’t need to turn into that quintessential party girl to be accepted by and have a good time with those partiers. Or with anyone.

In short, I was a lot stronger than I ever thought.
And that, in itself, led to the best freedom ever.  

Due in part to that weekend, Jody Feldman did end up going to the University of Missouri/Columbia, graduating from the world-renowned Mizzou School of Journalism (which circuitously led to this author gig) and making friends she’s still ultra close with these decades later.