(Annapolis, MD) – As evening fell on my invigorating tour of the U.S. Naval Academy, the traveling companion and I were drawn to Lejeune Hall, the on-campus swimming, diving and wrestling facility.
He wanted to show me the plaques honoring athletic achievements of Midshipmen athletes throughout the years, which was great. When we walked in, there was a swim meet going on. This thrilled me. It was warm and humid in there, plus there was a sporting event happening live! This held no appeal to him, but I pretty much insisted we walk in for a while.
As we entered the natatorium, a couple of women were engaged in an animated conversation along the lines of, “I can’t believe he’s here!” “This is amazing!” This is so exciting!” They turned to me to bring me into the conversation as if I knew what they were talking about. I did not. “Hold on,” I said. "Who’s here?"
“Michael Phelps!” 
Michael Phelps, 14-time Olympic gold medalist swimmer, one of the most recognizable athletes in the world, was swimming for the Baltimore Aquatic Club in this random meet in December. They pointed to a spot poolside, and there he was: Michael Phelps, walking along preparing to swim his warm-ups. 
Wherever he went, all eyes were on him. People could not stop staring. Rarely starstruck, I couldn’t help myself. This brush with celebrity was so unexpected. Cell phones and cameras were strategically aimed at all times. I admit to sending photos to my family back in Louisiana just to get their reactions. Somehow, to have an athlete of this caliber competing in an event that involved college athletes as well as young children was simply difficult to process. 
Phelps tried to go about his business, but was interrupted often by swimmers and parents alike who wanted a photo with him or an autograph or both. We didn’t hang around very long. I read that he won all of his races. Count that as the one thing about the evening that didn’t catch me by surprise.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Suddenly, I Became Part of the Paparazzi
I Can Feel My Fingers Again!
Thirty-six hours after a trip to the northeast region of Our Great Nation, full sensation has finally returned to my extremities. The most recent travel adventure basically made no sense on its face, but what good adventure really does? The primary objective was to witness the Army-Navy game, a long-standing tradition that encompasses much more than just college football. The game is played in Philadelphia, so naturally we flew into Washington, DC. Flying into Philly would be too easy!
There were practical and emotional reasons to visit the DC area. I was invited on the trip by a Naval Academy graduate and he wanted to walk around the Annapolis, Maryland campus. 
Along the way, we also picked up one of his navy friends who lives in suburban Washington.
While anticipating the trip, I should admit several aspects of it intimidated me. My friend had twelve tickets, so my math told me I would be in the company of ten strangers. That’s tough enough, but what really got me was the prospect of days of cold weather. Living 49 years in Louisiana does not necessarily prepare you well for daytime temperatures below freezing. I get the idea of dressing in layers and I knew I wouldn’t die of exposure or lose fingertips to frostbite, but still I was preparing to enter an unfamiliar and (to me) somewhat hostile environment. Moreover, as accustomed as I am to weekenders, shoving all that cold-weather gear into my carry-on bag was some kind of spatial challenge.
I’m happy to say I made it happen and survived the frigid conditions; but I felt them. The Naval Academy sits on the shores of Chesapeake Bay, and while those shores were sunny they were also blustery! 
Ambient temperatures below 30 degrees with a wind whipping off the water at 25-30 knots does not create a great sense of comfort for a guy like me. I’m glad I saw it all, though. The city is quaint and beautiful. 
The academy is impressive. I know beyond any doubt that it’s a lifestyle in which I could never have thrived, but I’m grateful and immensely respectful of those who have made it.
When I got back to Louisiana, I was free from the layers which had bound me for several days. I was never more thrilled to put on a sweatshirt and khaki shorts to walk around my neighborhood. I’d like to thank all those rock-solid sailors and Marines who endured the academy and played a part in giving me the ability and freedom to do it.
