I would tell you about some of the stupid things, but I think I will abide by this shirt:
My father actually gave me a short lecture before I left about making good choices and being safe. Hillary's husband's response to that: There are no bad choices in Athens. Only wasted opportunities.
While we were known to shut down a bar or two 10 years ago, we had a fun but pretty tame night out (that ended with us walking 1.5 miles in heels. I would not recommend it. But at least we were safe). And somehow I spent 12 hours with Hillary and only managed to get this photo of us together:
These were our people.
What I didn't get a picture of: the ridiculous way the college girls dressed. First, they wore leggings as pants. Then we saw some out at the bar (early in the night) wearing shorty-short gym shorts, T-shirts and rain boots. Later in the night, we saw girls who made Julia Roberts look classy in Pretty Woman. Two girls were wearing dresses so short that their butt cheeks were half an inch from falling out. Another girl's skirt was so tight you could actually see the outline of her belly button. And she was wearing a lace top.
My girls will not be going to college. Or if they do, it will be one with a dress code. And a house mom. And curfews. I'll just transport them back to 1950.
Since I didn't get many photos of Hillary and me or of the scary girls, I will leave you with some peaceful shots of campus:
This is the building where the newspaper office's used to be. We worked in the basement and it regularly smelled like sewage. The couches were scary. The editors office was the size of a closet. I spent more nights there than I care to count. It was awesome. Now they have some windows boarded up as they prepare to renovate the building.
Part of College Green. I can't tell you how many times Hillary and I sat near this statue, eating a burrito from a buggy (Don't judge. They were fabulous.) and bitching about the latest drama.
College Green where Hillary was regularly assaulted by squirrels. You should ask her about her fear of squirrels.
The journalism building. Where it all began.