Today we left the hotel a little earlier than yesterday and headed out to visit the first college of the day — Denison.
When we left the hotel, I got into the right turn lane, then remembered we should get gas in town because we only had 1/4 of a tank and there was a Shell station nearby for which we have a credit card that makes the price a tad cheaper. To get to the gas station I’d have to turn left. When the light turned green I made the first stupid decision of the trip — to wait to get gas later on.
Again, we didn’t have a reservation at the school, but hoped to get at least a tour. The drive to Granville was not too bad, good roads most of the way, but it did begin to rain a little, and rain worries me when I’m driving on roads I don’t know (you know, the whole hydroplaning issue). Nevertheless, we got to Denison safely and, after getting slightly lost in finding a way on campus because of road construction, followed the directions to the admission office and visitor parking. Clare will tell you that I was not altogether calm at this point because I needed to use the bathroom, but think I dealt with it well enough.
We walked from the visitor parking to the admissions office, a plain white building and entered. Clare wanted me to repeat what I said to another admissions receptionist — that we were on a whirlwind tour of colleges in the midwest and wondered if we could have some literature and a map of the campus to show ourselves around, but the receptionist immediately asked Clare her name, thinking we were registered, along with the several other teenagers milling around the admissions office.
I explained that we didn’t have a reservation, but hoped we could have a tour if possible. The receptionist, a thin, harassed looking woman, said Clare could fill out a form, but she couldn’t guarantee us a tour. Clare filled out the requested form, then picked up a few pamphlets about the school. After about 15 minutes the woman approached Clare and asked for her name again, then said, loudly, “Oh, you were just the walk-in.” Clare replied that she was a walk-in, and then the woman asked if we were “all set”. We took that as a dismissal and left the building. We started to walk around campus, but wondered if it was even worth it, especially since we had other places to go. We both felt a bit embarrassed about the encounter.
Clare still likes the campus, but I figure that if they are that unwelcoming to visitors, then they might be worse with students.
We went back to the car and plotted our next destination into the GPS.
A word about the GPS. Early in the journey Clare decided that the Yoda voice would be fun to have as a navigator. I agreed and soon grew used to his backwards talk. For instance, instead of saying “turn right ahead” the Yoda voice says, “ahead, turn right, you must” and instead of “bear right ahead and join the motorway” it says, “Ahead, bear right and join the motorway, you must”. It was fun, and occasionally made us giggle, especially when we made a wrong turn and it sounded like it was drowning. “Turn around when po — bbbarevae.”
So, we plotted the next destination and took off. About 3 miles down the road I remembered we needed gas. The tank was near empty (but no red light yet) so we used the GPS to find a “petrol” station. It found one, 3.5 miles behind us and could not find on ahead of us. I decided to turn around and go to the BP station. We followed the directions, happy to be getting gas soon since by now the red light was on. We saw the green and yellow colors of the BP station, but the station had closed for good sometime ago, by the look of the building.
I asked Clare to plot the next nearest station, and we set off to find that, by now in a slight panic. We were on tiny country roads with little traffic and few houses. I figured that we could ask a local where the next station was if this one didn’t pan out.
Which it didn’t. There was no Sunoco station nor building at the “destination you have reached” as GPS-Yoda put it.
I admit having a bit of a breakdown at this point, telling Clare our plan if we ran out of gas. (I’d go for gas, she’d stay in the car with the doors locked and most of our money and the phone). She asked me the worst case scenario, and wonderful, caring mom that I am, I told her we could be murdered. Well, she asked…
So, we found one more gas station on the GPS with the unlikley name, Superamerica. Since the GPS also provides phone numbers for the gas stations, I called the one listed for Superamerica. A woman answered.
Me: Hi. Is this a gas station?
M: Good. I’m nearly out of gas and my GPS has led me to two places that are no longer gas stations. I just wanted to make sure.
Me: OK. I hope to see you soon. I hope I don’t run out of gas.
W: Ok, bye.
We followed GPS-Yoda’s directions and prayed not to run out of gas. Clare patted my shoulder and reminded me that things had turned out all right when we ran out of gas in Wisconsin. I reminded her that DAD WAS WITH US THEN! Then GPS-Yoda said, ahead, right turn you must. This was a street clearly marked “Dead End” and at the end was a grain elevator or some other farm-related building.
I drove past it, nearly turned onto a road called “connector road”, but drove past and pulled off the road and called Superamerica again.
Me: Hi, I called before — I was running out of gas?
M: Well, my GPS has gotten me lost. I am on [and I read the exact location that the GPS gave me when I chose “help me…my location’].
W: Are you at a 4 way stop?
M: No. I’m on a road next to a cornfield.
W: [calling to someone else in the room] Can you give this woman directions?
New woman: Hello?
M: Hi. I am on [again I read the location as given to me by GPS-Yoda]
GPS-Yoda: Turn around, you must
Clare grabbed GPS-Yoda and tried to muffle the voice, so as not to let the woman on the phone think we were crank calling with Star War Voices
NW: Are you on [she named a route]
M: No, I’m sitting next to a cornfield. I’m from Maryland… — oh, I’m near the St Peter and St Paul retreat center [reading a faded, rusty sign behind me]
NW: Well, you need to get on Connector road…
M: Connector Road! I saw that!
NW: You know that? Good. Now take a right (or left) and go down Connector Road, then take [named route]. When you get to a stop light we are on the left.
M: Thank you! Hope to see you soon.
NW: You’re welcome. Bye.
So, I turned around and followed the directions. We got there and I very nearly kissed the ground. After getting gas ($57) I went in and thanked the women who helped us. They were very nice and said they were glad to help.
New rule — never get below a quarter tank.
Then we set the GPS to Gambier, Ohio and drove. And drove. And drove. We drove on medium roads and tiny roads and finally when we were on gravel roads we began to worry. We suspected GPS-Yoda was getting us back for muffling his voice when I was on the phone. How could these directions be right? Were we going to get lost? Were we already lost?
Finally we rounded a corner and saw a sign that said Gambier. I drove a little farther and saw a sign that announced we were on Kenyon College’s campus. We parked, asked where admissions was, were given directions and found the building.
After the Denison experience Clare and I were a little wary about Kenyon. Clare coached again me on what to say. We needn’t have worried because were welcomed warmly and asked if we wanted a tour. I told the receptionist about what happened at Denison, and she said that Kenyon always had open tours and was surprised, but not really, about the Denison experience. “Besides,” she said, “we have a prettier campus.”
We had our own tour guide, Maya, a sweet and very positive upperclassman. She obviously loves the school.
Clare fell in love with the campus. The buildings are beautiful and in a wooded setting. She’s put it on her YES list along with Chatham.
After Kenyon we drove to Otterbein College in Columbus, but it was too late for a tour. Clare had it on her yes / maybe list, so she decided she’d visit another time if she was still interested.
We drove to Springfield, half way between Columbus, Ohio and Richmond, IN (where the next college is located). We drove to the downtown area of Springfield for dinner, but got a little nervous about the boarded up houses, so went back to the hotel area and ate at a Cracker Barrel (big ick) instead. The other place was probably much better.