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I iWest. Coast -.riativeiAIsits- the East 'and discovers mugs,
peanut butter and jeih, ceii y ?3 r? end Tarheels
By JOHN DRESCHER
Dave Hampson's first recollection of
the East Coast isn't too pleasant. Hamp
son, a rising senior at the University of
Washington in Seattle, arrived in Miami
for a month-long trip to the East Coast
on June 19.
Less than 24 hours later he ran into
two of Miami's finest a couple of nice,
friendly local fellas who merely wanted
all of his money or part of his face,
whichever he chose to part with. After a
long period of deliberation say may
be a second or two he gave them his
money.
Wham, bam and welcome to the
East Coast, Dave.
There he was, thousands of miles
from home, by himself, minus $100. His
face, however, remained intact, as well
as his determination to see the East
Coast and have some fun doing it.
Most of us easterners think of the
West Coast as some type of mystical,
never-never land, complete with surfers
and shapely blonde girls, that only in
our wildest dreams would we visit. But
in keeping with the grass-is-greener
theory, it seems West Coast natives
share some of that same curiousity
about our coast
Hampson, a native of Yakima, Wa.,
decided a few years back that he
wanted to see the East. So a few weeks
ago he hopped on a plane to Miami, r
then bought a bus ticket that allows
him to travel wherever he wants for a
month.
Last Wednesday he arrived in Chapel
Hill to spend two nights in the UNC
chapter of his fraternity. By Friday he
was on his way to Washington,. D.C.,
then eventually to New York and Bos
ton and wherever his bus pass and stuf f-
ed duffle bag would take him.
He got over his mugging with no in
jury to his body but some to his psyche.
"I've never had anything happen to
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me so scary in my life," Hampson said,
admitting that the thought of getting
mugged never crossed his mind before.
"I don't trust people like I used to.
Before Miami, I trusted anyone."
Still, Hampson said his trip had been
enough fun to more than make up for
the rough beginning. Sitting in my room
wearing a "University of Washington"
t-shirt and holding a newly acquired
"UNC Tarheels" t-shirt in one hand
("Whafs a Tarheel?" he asked), he
didn't hide his enthusiasm about his
trip.
In general, he said, people had been
"very friendly."
"I especially noticed it in Clemson,"
he said. "They were the friendliest peo
ple I've ever met anywhere. Outside
of the big cities, everyone's been real
friendly."
He likes the beer-drinking age in
most of the South 18, compared to 21
in Washington and, of course, the
downfall of many an unsuspecting visit
ing male, the way Southern girls talk.
"All the girls smile and say, 'Hi.' They
don't usually do that in Seattle," he
said. And those California beaches are
great, but Florida's, though different,
are just as good, he said.
After bouncing around Florida for a,
week with an Army soldier ("Put in the
story that Frank Crandall still owes me
' $25"), Hampson traveled to an area out
side Atlanta in . rural Ceorgia. He met
some farm laborers, went to their small
house and discovered a Southern past
time: sittin', drinkia' and chewin' the
day's fat.
"That was really an experience for
me," he said. "I could really tell that I
was in the South. That was a good time;
I really liked it"
From Ceorgia he went to Anderson,
S.C and then to Clemson, in the same
state. In Clemson he sold his services as
a free-lance clean-up man for a day and
picked up 40 badly needed dollars.
With his newly acquired riches, he
treated himself by going out to eat and,
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for the first time in his life, ordered a
peanut butter and jelly sandwich at a
restaurant
His trip has had its bizarre moments.
In Florida he stayed at the house of
your everyday, average minister who
used to be in a motorcycle gang. "I was
used to preachers being real friendly
and cordialj" Hampson, a pre-med stu
dent said. "I spent two full nights and
one day there and he didn't say one
word to me.
Along the way he stopped at a bar
with male dancers. Although he was
originally skeptical,, the bar, packed
with women, became one of his favo
rite stops of the trip.
But for every rip-roaring bar comes a
lonely bus station.
"At times it seems like it takes
forever," he said "It all depends on
' how much fun you're having. If you're
in a bus station, things are pretty slow.
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To pass the time, he writes in his journal,
to record where he's been and what has
happened.
Not that he didn't want to be alone.
Although not the loner type, he was
talked into traveling solitaire by a well
traveled friend. "I'd never been by
myself before and I wanted to see what
it's like. If II probably be the only time
I'll ever be totally on my own."
From. Chapel Hill, he knew he was
heading north, but exactly where he
didn't know. "I never know where I'm
going to be the next night" he said. It
makes no difference really. No matter
where he goes, Dave Hampson will
probably see and do more in a month of
traveling than a lot of us will in a life
time.
John DrescheV, a senior journalism and
history major from Raleigh, is associate
editor of The Tar Heel.
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Thursday, July 9, miTliz Tsr ikt!15