Assuming I pass my Spanish class, an assumption that I don't feel totally safe in making right now, I'm out of here. Last column for the The Daily Tar Heel, last classes at Carolina, last days on Franklin as a Chapel Hill resident. The End.
I'm typing this column amidst the rubble of an impending moving day. My entire life is in a few dozen boxes, supplied by the local ABC store, waiting to be loaded onto the U-Haul. Things will happen quickly now, and once finals are over, I'll be off.
I'll be headed to a rival ACC institution to study law, an ACC institution that I fear -- and it pains me to admit this -- might get the best of us on the hardwood this fall. While I'll never turn traitor and root for another team, I do worry about what will happen to our boys in blue when the ACC regular season heats up. If I actually have time to go to a game, I'll be the one in baby blue amidst a sea of foreign colors. Look for me on TV.
Speaking of time, the summer went by way too quickly. I had all sorts of grand plans for my column in the DTH this semester: expos
