Back to Class

Guess what!

I finally got Booger into a bathtub! He really does have a face after all! If he's going to be spending time living with me, he's going to have to work on his attraction for dirt and sand. Unfortunately, I needed a bath after giving him one. I didn't have much time because I wanted to get up to the school to see what the latest news is about what's happening with the hurricane victims.

The mood at school is very somber. Everyone knows someone who lives in south Louisiana or Mississippi. We all feel so helpless. Well, except for maybe Professor Rogerson, who was ruthless as ever today. He was actually ticked that so many of us skipped on Monday. He announced that we "owe him time" now. Of course, no one really prepared for classes, and it made Rogerson even more mad when people couldn't answer his questions the way he wanted.

In contrast, the Intellectual Property class was almost completely focused on the hurricane and what we can do to help. Professor Matthews got teary-eyed several times as people talked about loved ones they haven't heard from yet. There was a long discussion about the government's "duty" and how you can't sue a state without that state's permission. Several students wanted to get a convoy to go pick up refugees in New Orleans and take them to shelters in other states. Supposedly, busses will be sent in to pick all those people up, but none have shown up so far.

Meanwhile, the Twinkie Experiment continues. In my "official" research documentation for the project, so far I've got a lot of data about how twins can pull off switching places as long as people are distracted by a national disaster. At this rate, I'll be taking Amy's exams at the end of the semester. Geez, that's a horrible thought.

I guess I'd better go prepare cases for Tarkington's Criminal Procedure class tomorrow. There was supposed to be two hours of LOST on tonight, but the second hour was taken off so they could show a special about Katrina. I think I am watching too much of the coverage because I am feeling really sad. The people who live in the coastal communities are like one big family. I can't help but feel a sense of abandonment with them as they ask over and over why the help hasn't come yet.

Blessings

Booger and I are thrilled to be home. We got back less than an hour ago. I even managed to get the boat back here in one piece, and Charlie returned it to whomever the owner is. The beach has a lot of debris on it, but the houses are fine and still standing right where we left them. You can tell it rained and that there were some high winds from the debris, but other than the houses being hot since we turned the electricity off, everything is back to normal. They used crowbars to pull the wood off the sliding glass doors and windows and then stored it under Charlie's house for "next time." I am so relieved the house is still standing. This house sways when the wind blows. Amy jokes all the time about how the house would tumble over if Charlie's kids leaned on it all at once.

We are sooo lucky the hurricane didn't veer this direction. Now that we've seen what it has done to parts of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, I know Amy's beach house would be gone. Charlie told me all of the round cement things sticking up in the sand are old ceptic tanks from houses washed away in earlier hurricanes that hit here. In some cases, you can still see the stilts from some of the houses. I wonder if this is what Louisana and Mississippi are going to look like when they get the clean up completed?

Charlie's sister and her husband were so gracious to take all of us in. Their house has a huge screened-in porch off the back, and all the kids camped out on the porch. It was actually nice (once the boys learned to keep the door closed and kept the mosquitoes and other bugs out.) It was like one long fish-fry, only the mood was not as jovial because we were watching the news about Katrina.

Last night, Charlie and Buck (Charlie's wife's husband) loaded up Charlie's Suburban and Ricky's truck with all the jugs of water we had, the small generators, and whatever nonparishables we could find. Then, they headed over hundreds of miles to the New Orleans area to see what they could do to help those people. They got back to Charlie's sister's place a little before six this evening and said they never made it all the way to New Orleans. The people in southern Mississippi are in desperate need of help, too, and apparently you can't even get near to New Orleans. Charlie says nothing is being done to help the people at the Superdome in New Orleans. People are suffering, and the government is no where to be seen. I thought the government knew the hurricane was going to hit and was going to have resources in place? Where is the Red Cross?

Everyone keeps saying we should "take a good look" because this is what would happen in a national emergency--or even a regional emergency. The government will "sit on their asses" and people will die. Nice. I can understand the perspective though, especially when the hurricane could have hit here just as easily as where it did. I really loved the ocean. I have all of my life, but now I feel numb about it. In fact, this whole place feels foreign to me. I wish I could go home to my nice safe condo in the city where winds and waves are a safe distance away.

My new buddy, Booger, doesn't want to go back over to Charlie's house. I tried walking him over, but he ends up back here sitting on my deck, staring at me through the glass doors with that matted, sandy, smelly face and big Muppet eyes. You can't leave animals out at night because of coyotes (they tell me), so I guess Booger will get to sleep over. I'll have to call Charlie and let him know, so he won't go looking for him. Then, I need to read for Intellectual Property and Business Associations tomorrow, although I am not really in the mood to read that stuff. On the law school's website today, they said classes would still be held today and yesterday, but absences would not count against us. I wonder how many people showed up for class. All the sudden law schools seem so unimportant.

Heading Out

I have to pack up this laptop now and cram it in the jeep with the rest of the stuff. The soft top of the jeep is secure (says Ricky), and he used padlocks to hold it on and for security. I also get the honor of transporting one of Charlie's dogs. He's the brown and black mutt who always seems to have just finished swimming in the ocean and rolling around in the sand. His name is Booger. He's medium-sized and pretty friendly, however, Charlie tells me he will offer protection if I need it. Protection from whom? The jeep is so packed, I can't really see out the back. The main problem with not being able to see is the fact I will be pulling a boat. I thought it was one of Charlie's boats, but it isn't. No one can seem to tell me whose boat it is. The neighbors are helping neighbors, and this is how I get to help. As long as I bring it back, they tell me that is all that matters.

I have barely driven the jeep very much, and I certainly have not driven a jeep with a boat attached to the trailor hook. I sure hope I don't see it pass me on the open road. I was pleased to hear it might offer more room for packing stuff, but when I looked inside the boat, someone else had the same idea. There were jugs of water, generators, and coolers filled with--you guessed it--fresh shrimp and fish. I guess if the hurricane kills all the fish and shirmp, we'll still have some. Did someone pack the 8 Track Player?

I am trying to remain optimistic. Amy has done this a dozen times, so I really can't appear to nervous. I don't think there is room to fit even another can of Dr. Pepper into that jeep. Luckily this laptop is thin. It will go nicely under the seat where Booger will be riding with me. I've got to get a bowl for water for him.

The news says New Orleans may get the worst of the hurricane. If that happens, New Orleans could be completely washed out because they are surrounded by water on 3 sides and are already below sea-level. I pray the hurricane veers off to one direction or the other so New Orleans will be spared. I pray we will be spared, too.

I've got Amy's portable WatchMan on a cord around my neck and plenty of batteries, so I'll know what's going on. Charlie is up here with the boards now for the glass doors and is ready to start hammering. He also turned off the water, and the electricity is next. I guess it's time to go. I sure hope this house is still standing when we get back.

Next stop, Charlie's sister's house. Com'mon Booger...

Sign Of The Gypsy Queen

It looks like I was wrong about Katrina. We spent last night with the neighbors over at Charlie's, eating fish and shrimp, listening to "hurricane songs" (I didn't know there were hurricane songs), and watching Katrina on the news. Ricky has a tape by an old group called "April Wine" that contains a cool hurricane song called "Sign of the Gypsy Queen."

Sign of the gypsy queen
Pack your things and leave
Word of a woman who knows
Pack all your gold and you go

Running seems like the best offense
Staying just don't make any sense
No one could ever stop it now
Show the cards of the gypsy town

This morning, I was awoken by the sound of hammering. People are nailing plywood boards on all the windows on their houses. (How will they get them off?) Everyone is pitching in to help their neighbors. Charlie and his kids tell me they are doing mine in the morning. There are already two sliding glass doors running side by side for the front door out to the deck, so I'm surprised the wind could break them. But, apparently any type of damage is possible. If Katrina heads this direction, the house itself could be completely gone. I guess they will get so see how well the new "Eco-tube" they just installed will work.

Dummy me asked how we were going to get out of the house if they nail boards up. It turns out we are leaving. Since I am "Amy," of course, I am supposed to be familiar with all of this. But since I am really Ashley, The Clueless, all I can think about is how I didn't sign on for this. Amy has called several times, and she keeps saying "Don't forget to take my DIARY BOX!" I can't believe I am in charge of getting all of her, and my, important belongings out.

I am understanding now why Amy has so much tupperwear. Today, I packed her dishes and glasses and other breakables into big rubber bins with strong lids and then stored them in the closet with a lock on it. I've packed my suitcases and law books (can't forget the law books), Amy's paintings, jewelry, and of course, her Diary Box with all her memorabilia. I am supposed to pack it all in the jeep in the morning. Amy seems to forget the size of her own jeep. I'm afraid I won't be able to get all her important stuff in, PLUS the bottles of water. All the local store has left is the gallon jugs (like milk jugs), which makes the water end up tasting like plastic.

People seem to be taking things in stride, and everyone is being so considerate of each other. Charlie says I am following him and his tribe tomorrow as we drive up to stay with his sister about 100 miles North. I think everyone is going to feel rather silly when Katrina doesn't come anywhere near here. Charlie and Amy both told me they can't take any chances, and we have to go first thing in the morning because if Katrina does shift this direction, the Ferry will close, and it will be gridlock with evacuatees trying to drive inland. For the people who live on the coast, I guess this is all standard operating procedure. Weird to think I could come back and the house wouldn't be here. How do you pack a house into a jeep?

What's Wrong With the DA's Office?

I had a strange feeling all day that today would be the end of the experiment because someone has figured out I'm not really Amy. I'm not sure how I would feel about the twin switch being over. I guess it would mean I wouldn't have to fight high blood pressure in Rogerson's class anymore. This afternoon, when he yelled at a guy for answering a question wrong, he told him that the most he can hope for is to end up working in the DA's Office. (What's wrong with working in the DA's Office?) The end of the twin switch would also mean no more cool Intellectual Property stuff. I'm likely to miss Professor Matthews's bizarre southern accent. She keeps saying "pants," and it's taken me a week to figure out she is actually saying "patents." It would also mean no more Criminal Procedure class, not that I understood the cases for that class anyway...

Today, while Highlighter Guy and I were waiting for Business Associations class to start, he seemed exceptionally agitated. I asked him if he was okay. He told me he's so stressed out that he's not sure he can finish the semester. He comes from a family of lawyers and has so much riding on his success in law school. However, he quit his job as an engineer, and he, his wife, and family are really struggling. He doesn't know what he'll do if law school doesn't work out, but he pretty much has concluded that to be the case.

I told him the first month of a new semester always sucks, and the first week is always the absolute worst. Everyone is feeling what he is feeling, even me (which is a tremendous understatement). I told him to keep going until something (besides himself) actually stops him. At the least, I suggested that he give it one month, and then we'll talk again and see how he feels. He told me that I (being Amy) am the only person who is nice to him. My first reaction was to disagree with him, but then I looked around the classroom at our peers. No one is really nice to anyone in this law school. I responded to him by saying he was "easy to be nice to" and that "that's what friends are for," etc. The atmosphere up there is toxic. Why, then, do I feel a small sense of sadness when I think it is about to end?

I'm going to have to go in a few minutes because I'm finally getting to take the Minivan back to Hertz. Ricky is going to follow me in the jeep and give me a ride back. Last night, when I went next-door to chat with Charlie, we had a good laugh about my adventures in the Minivan. The first thing Charlie said to me when he first saw me walking towards him was, "So, what did you think of the nude beach?" How did he know? It turns out that he has friends all along the coast, and they help him keep an eye on all of the kids he has living with him. They also keep an eye on Amy, since they know she lives alone. In a small town environment like the one in which we live, everyone knows everything, and they watch out for each other's kids. I guess it really does take a village.

Later this evening, I will be going over to Charlie's for another fish-fry. This one he is calling a "Hurricane Watching Party." Last time I saw the news, Katrina looked like a little tropical storm. I guess since they don't know for sure which way she will go or what she will do, everyone is watching it closely. Between you and me, I think Charlie will use any excuse for a fish-fry. Hey, the polar ice caps are melting... Time for Charlie to have a fish fry...

I guess I've managed to survive another day without anyone saying anything about how something about me isn't like Amy, and then busting us. I know it's probably just paranoia, but I keep thinking "THEY KNOW and are just not saying anything." I wonder how Amy is doing as me.

Stuck

Charlie’s relatives took the top off of Amy's jeep yesterday afternoon so they could drive the jeep on the beach. Unfortunately, they didn’t put it back on, so I was stuck this morning with the same problem I had a few days ago. I ended up driving the Minivan to school (I finally get to return the car to Hertz this weekend, when Charlie said one of his kids will help take it back). Finding a parking space on the street was a nightmare, and I came THIS close to being late for Criminal Procedure class. Eventually I found a spot, threw a handful of coins in the meter, and rushed into the building.

When I arrived and took my seat, I barely made it with a few minutes to spare, and I was laughing about it. I told Michele and Highlighter Guy about how I “made an unspecified donation” to the parking meter and hoped it would be enough. Astrid Somethingorother, who sits in the row ahead of us, turned around to tell me something like I'm "obviously" not going to make it as a lawyer because I am so "unethical.” She was actually serious. Several other people around us agreed, including Michele. Aren’t the words “unethical” and “lawyer” redundant?

Thus, I learned something new today. If you don’t put the right amount of change in the parking meter, you will never make it as a lawyer. Amy warned me about the students’ attitudes and how they seem almost ready to pounce on one another. She said if they overhear you say that you hate red shirts, everyone will show up wearing a red shirt the next day. Like I really need this type of headache right before I have to sit still and try to be invisible in Criminal Procedure.

I like watching Tarkington as he asks different questions and then guides all the students’ answers to a right conclusion. He seems to direct us like we are a choir. I am still not coming close to picking out the right things in the cases, but the Forth Amendment is making sense to me. He doesn’t make students stand up when he calls on them, and when they don’t answer questions exactly right, he doesn’t berate them like other professors do. As long as you appear to have prepared thoroughly, he can use what you say as a part of the “song” he is directing. He really is a good professor—the first one I have encountered at the law school.

Relieved that I was not called on, I packed up my things quickly and left while Tarkington talked to the mob around him after class. I was in such a good mood that, on my way home, I decided to do something fun. I drove past Amy’s house for about two miles and proceeded on my journey to uncover the myth surrounding the famous nude beach everyone knows about, but no one has actually seen.

Based on Charlie and Sam’s directions, the beach should not be difficult for anyone to find. Yet, you know any time when the directions include “Go around the sign that says ‘Road Closed’,” things will be interesting. The road isn’t closed due to the nude beach; it has been closed for decades due to terrible beach erosion that washed out the road. Driving eastward, as the road turned to sand, I was tempted to turn around and go get the jeep to use instead of the Minivan. However, I didn’t exactly want to have Amy’s jeep recognized in the event I ran into anyone who might know Amy.

I looked around. No naked people. Lots of weeds, broken up cement from the old road, and ocean close by, but no nude anything. It seemed I had driven farther than people said the nude beach was, but I decided to keep going just in case. All remnants of an actual “road” disappeared, and I was officially off-roading. Off-roading in a maroon Windstar Minivan.

I came up to a cardboard sign on an old light pole that said something about a reminder not to miss Sunday Brunch. That’s something you don’t see every day: naked people eating Sunday brunch on the beach. I kept moving. The sand and dirt made crunching noises under the car. I bumped over some debris and knew instantly it was too big for me to make it without coming down hard on the other side of it. I heard a “clunk” under the car. Not good. Then, I looked up, and I noticed there were a few cars just beyond the high weeds along the dunes. There were a handful of people on the beach. Naked people. Only not the type of naked people you might expect to see on a nude beach. These people were old and sunburned extra-crispy from being out in the sun too long. I “pulled over” (like someone else was going to come up behind me and not be able to get around?) and stopped. After a moment, they saw me watching them, and I decided to leave before they—or I—felt too uncomfortable.

And there you have it. The Nude Beach Myth is not a myth after all. It does, indeed, exist. I’ve seen it. I’ve been there. I can testify to the fact there is a nude beach just a few miles from where Amy lives, and, if you go on Sunday mornings, they might serve you brunch.

I tried to put the car into “Drive” and drive out of the small ravine in which I had parked. The Minivan wouldn’t budge. It spun its little tires and made a loud “wheezing” sound.

I was stuck.

Luckily there were people nearby. At that point, I really missed Amy’s jeep. I put the Minivan into a lower drive gear and tried again. Same thing: spinning wheels, combined with wheezing. Several of the naked people had gathered and were pointing at me, obviously impressed that someone would be stupid enough to go off-roading in a Minivan. I had planned on it being a quick trip, to sort of sneak up on any nudies that might be there, and then quickly leave. My plans changed.

Two older gentlemen, and I mean OLDER, walked toward my car. They had not a stitch on, and they were smoking cigarettes. I remember thinking “cigarettes are so unhealthy.” Not to mention running around naked in the mid-day August sun. One man asked me if I needed some help. I focused on his face and the clouds in the sky and on the birds. Basically anything to make sure I didn’t look down. I lowered the window and told him I must have taken a wrong turn and somehow now I was stuck. They laughed. I'm sure they knew full well why I was out there.

The nice gentleman told me they would help me, and he started yelling towards the beach for his friends to come join us. My Minivan was suddenly surrounded by old, naked men with cigarettes dangling out of their mouths. I didn’t let myself think about what they were all doing out there on the beach together. I focused instead on the roof of my Minivan, the sky, the clouds, the birds…anywhere but downward.

The first guy shouted instructions while four other men got next to and behind the Minivan to rock it lose from whatever was holding it. I prayed they could get me out of there. I couldn’t imagine calling a tow truck…Or, worse, having to call Charlie to come get me. Not that I could have, since cell phones don’t work on that side of the Ferry. My only hope would be to hitch a ride into town with the naked people.

It must have been a sight to behold as four elderly naked men, still with cigarettes in their mouths, rocked my maroon Minivan, while another old guy shouted, “Push! Push!” over and over. I was afraid they might hurt themselves, given their advanced ages, the weight of the van, and, well, the fact they were naked. I floored the gas and finally was able to get some traction. After making an awkward U-turn, I stopped again to thank my rescuers. They said they were happy to do it and that “it happens all the time.”

I drove home quickly. Embarrassed by the whole ordeal, I really no longer felt motivated to share that I discovered the nude beach does actually exist. Perhaps, others have had similar experiences, and that is why everyone will tell you the nude beach is there, but no one will ever admit actually seeing it.

I have to go read for Business Associations. The fun for me today is over.

The T-Shirt Says It All

The Just-sit-there-and-act-like-you-know-what's-going-on approach seems to be working so far at the law school. Of course, I haven’t been called on yet to do a case or to answer a question. It’s going to happen sometime, and the results should be quite entertaining. It is encouraging to see other students be called on and completely blow it. Sometimes I think it is impossible to give a right answer, like in Rogerson’s class. No matter how you answer, he’ll keep on asking questions until you make a fool out of yourself.

Last night and this morning, I read and tried to brief the assigned materials for Intellectual Property (a class in which we are already behind) and Business Associations. It took me eight hours! When I arrived in class, and we covered the material, it seemed as if I had never encountered it before. I’m flipping pages like “where are we?” I am not the only one, however, and I find that amusing. The other students have already gone through their first year of law school—the hardest year and supposedly the one that teaches you how to “think like a lawyer.” I don’t think any of us are thinking like lawyers; we’re thinking like a bunch of third graders who don't know their spelling words and are hoping the teacher won’t call on us.

I am surprised at how interested I am in the Trademark information we are covering in Intellectual Property. It is likely because we are talking about the results of companies trying to psychologically entice consumers. The mental/psychological appeal of names and colors of packaging becomes even more interesting when you see the companies fighting over who had the name or design on their product first. Of course, having a professor attempting to teach the course who seems to be in love with her own voice can result in making the material very boring.

The worst thing about Professor Matthews is that she walks around the room during class. She looks over the shoulders of students to see what they are writing or what is on their laptops. I don’t think it is any of her damn business what we write down or type, especially when she’s obviously checking to see if we are playing FreeCell or surfing the net. We are not children. If I bring my laptop to start taking notes, I’m thinking about setting up a huge screen saver with something ridiculous to see how she would react. I could always use the phrase that is on the t-shirts the Student Bar Association is currently selling for $12 each:

THE WORST EXPERIENCE I'VE EVER HAD
IS BETTER THAN ANY DAY IN LAW SCHOOL

I think it says a lot about your law school when the student body representatives make t-shirts with a slogan about how much it sucks. You should see how fast the t-shirts are selling and how many people are wearing them.

Professor Rogerson continued with his rampage again today in Business Associations. The level of stress in that classroom is suffocating. Highlighter Guy sitting next to me looks like he is about to wet himself. Michele just keeps typing away, on what, I am not sure. It is nice, however, that when I make smart ass comments under my breath, she and Highlighter Guy always seem to laugh really loud.

When I got home this afternoon, I watched Oprah and tried to read Criminal Procedure. I’m preparing myself for Tarkington to call on me tomorrow and for me to crash and burn in embarrassment when I don’t know the answer. Plan B is to chicken out and not even try. As much as I want to be fair to Amy, I may end up saying, “I’m sorry, I’m unprepared,” and just sacrifice two points on her final grade. In regards to the Twinkie Experiment, I think I am behaving exactly as Amy would if she wasn’t prepared to answer a question when he called on her.

When all else fails, say nothing and do even less. I declare that our official moto for the Twinkie Experiment. Maybe we should make t-shirts.

Not Quite CSI

Ricky fixed the top for the jeep for me this morning, and I was happy to be free from mosquitoes and more sunburn as I drove to the law school. We didn’t have an assignment for Professor Tarkington’s 9:30 Criminal Procedure class, but I read over the first couple of chapters in the text anyway, just to give myself a foundation. The different stages of an arrest were covered as well as, of course, an overview of how the Constitution applies to Criminal Law.

When I walked in the Criminal Procedure classroom, it was nice to see everyone in regular clothes: everything from dressy clothes to shorts, and even people in the forbidden flip-flops. I wore walking shorts and a polo shirt, and I was actually feeling rather calm compared to yesterday. I unpacked my books and listened as people in the class were discussing what they know about Professor Tarkington. Several students talked about how they witnessed Tarkington throw their classmates out of class when he got ticked off. Most people think Tarkington is an extremely professional, often uptight person but that he treats everyone fairly. I decided just to wait and form my own impression of him. At 9:30, the door opened, and in walked a guy in a navy blue suit who quicky made his way up to the podium, coffee in one hand and books in the other. He had blond hair and a dark tan, and he looked more like a surfer-dude than a law professor. Some guys just aren’t tie guys, and this professor looked extremely uncomfortable wearing a suit.

The surfer-professor introduced himself to the class as “Professor Tarkington” and said there were some housekeeping rules we were going to review before we got started. He pointed out that he typed the rules for us on the first page of the syllabus.

CRIMINAL PROCEDURE
FALL 2005 SYLLABUS
PROFESSOR MICHAEL TARKINGTON
TEXT: Israel, Kamisar, and LaFave, CRIMINAL PROCEDURE AND THE CONSTITUTION, 2005 ed. (American Casebook Series).

The rules listed on the syllabus involve the usual stuff about no cell phones, the penalty for missing too many classes, no food in the classroom, use covered cups for drinks… I remember when I looked over at Highlighter Guy sitting to my left, he was actually re-writing the rules down as the professor read them. Tarkington pointed out his office hours and office phone number, followed by his policy regarding students coming to class unprepared and how two points would be deducted from our final grade. He sounded very authoritarian, like he had practiced what he was going to say and took himself way too seriously.

Today, Professor Tarkington did most of the talking, but he said that would not usually be the case. He reminded everyone of how the Socratic Method works and what he expects us to do when he calls on us. My stomach started to hurt. Then, he continued by reviewing what we--I mean, they--were taught last year in Criminal Law. Things like the differences between common law and the Penal Code were covered; however, I think he lost me somewhere around "the balancing aspect of utilitarian justification." (I don’t recall that being mentioned on CSI…)

When the class finished, students immediately gathered around the professor to ask him questions. I gathered my things together, checked with Highlighter Guy to see if his tape recorded okay, and then put the recorder he had given me into my bag when he said I could keep today’s tape. I really wish Amy had not insisted on me sitting on the third row.

Revenge of the Nerds?

(This picture is the view from the Ferry at 9:00 am)

The day didn’t exactly start off the way I had hoped. Let’s just say the removable soft top for the jeep is not my friend. The jeep is great without the top if you are cruising around the beach, but I need the roof firmly secured on the jeep in order to drive to school without looking like a mess. I couldn’t get it connected right, but I had to take the jeep instead of the minivan because it has the sticker for the student lot. Leaving it loose, I could envision the soft top flying off when I was driving on the causeway, sailing over the railing, and then landing on some guy on a passing barge below. Ultimately, I had no choice but to go "topless." Already running late, I didn’t have time to put my hair in a ponytail or to change out of the professional, but fun, dress I had chosen to wear for the first day. I just grabbed my sunglasses, jumped in the jeep, and headed toward the Ferry.

Nobody told me that during the week there is tons of traffic in line for the Ferry. Where did all the people come from?

Nobody told me I needed to wear sunscreen because the sun, even at 9:00 in the morning, will burn you to a crisp when you have to sit in traffic waiting for the Ferry.

Nobody told me I needed to put on bug repellant because the mosquitoes love to hang out on the Ferry landing.

Nobody told me I was going to absolutely melt in the heat if I drove the jeep without the top.

You get the picture.

Since I was running so late, I really didn’t have time to grasp the gravity of the twin switch as I walked through the double doors of the law school. It was strange having people I have never seen before say, “Hi, Amy, how was your Summer?” I basically just said "hi" to everyone who made eye contact or seemed to know me. Making my way quickly upstairs into the Intellectual Property classroom, and I found myself surrounded by a bunch of nuns. That was my initial impression. All of the law students were wearing black suits. Long-sleeved black suits. In the middle of August.

Some older guy asked me, “Why aren’t you in courtroom attire?” What the heck is courtroom attire? Amy didn’t say anything about a dress code or courtroom attire. Another student up in the cheap seats yelled at me too, telling me I am supposed to wear my black suit for court. I slowly made my way up to the third row and took my seat next to Michele, who looked me over from head to toe disapprovingly. She was wearing a black suit all right, but it was cut low enough in the front that I wondered for a second if she knew she had forgotten her blouse. She shook her head at me, and I asked her how she liked the new, sunburned drowned-rat look for Fall. At least it seemed to take the focus off of my hair or other personal details that would indicate to her that I wasn't Amy.

The geeky guy with glasses sitting on the other side of me said "you should probably go home and change." He had a tape recorder on the desk in front of him, set on “pause.” His book and notes were organized neatly, with four different colored highlighters and three pens lined up and ready for action. I was relieved when he laughed because for a moment I thought I really needed to go change. He told me that after Intellectual Property there would be a formal seminar in the main courtroom given by Professor Matthews about trying out for Trademark Moot Court. When I said I probably wouldn’t go, he told me there was always at least one person who forgets to wear courtroom attire, adding that I should go so it would give everyone something to laugh about.

My newly acquired mosquito bites and the ones from over the weekend began itching all at once. It was that moment I discovered that sunburn does not make mosquito bites more pleasant. However, the Intellectual Property class was okay overall. The professor was a riot, with her pseudo-bouffant hairdo and quirky southern accent resembling Kyra Sedgwick’s character on THE CLOSER tv show. It was hard to imagine her as a lawyer. At one point, I tried to search my syllabus for verification that she actually did have an education. She gave us a long explanation about the seating chart and a subsequent lecture about the roll sheet, which took up over half the class time. The rest of the time was spent going over the syllabus, giving us a quick overview of Trademark Law, and reminding us about the seminar. Good thing I spent two days preparing for Intellectual Property class for nothing.

The most interesting thing about the Intellectual Property class was watching the guy sitting on my left. He clicked highlighter lids very carefully, one after another, as he colored sentences in his book different colors. From what I could tell, it was blue highlighter for the Issue of the case, pink for the Rule, yellow for the Analysis, and green for the Conclusion. Every single sentence on each page was a pretty color. At the end of class, he told me he had an extra tape recorder and asked that, if he supplied the tapes and batteries, would I tape the class for him. He said it was "just in case" his own tape recorder didn’t work or it shut off too soon, then he would have a back up. I was happy to help him.

After Intellectual Property class, several of us migrated upstairs to check out the Moot Court thing. The attention of the students quickly shifted away from entering the courtroom as as two students rushed by us on their way to the bulletin boards across from the bookstore. Like town-criers, they announced that Professor Rogerson had just posted his assignment that was due for the first day of class. In other words, the assignment that was due at 1:30 today. A mad rush to the 2L Board ensued, and quick scribbling commenced, as the assigned page numbers for the Business Association cases were quickly jotted down. I couldn’t help but laugh at the moans from my fellow students, as well as at the absurdity of a professor assigning over 70 pages, to both read and brief, just barely three hours before the assignment is due. Consequently, few of the students who have Rogerson for Business Associations attended the Moot Court Seminar.

This afternoon when I arrived in Business Associations, I was greeted by the geeky highlighter guy who asked me if I would help him by taping this class for him as well. I considered telling him I probably could not do more than one class because it would be too difficult to keep the tapes straight. But, then I thought about Amy. If she had the tapes for the classes, it might help her when she has to catch up on all the material before final exams. I told him I would tape the classes for him if he would let me keep any tapes he doesn’t need when his own tape recorder does work successfully. He agreed. I know Amy will love it.

All I can say about Business Associations is, talk about drama. Precisely at 1:30, the door opened, and the room fell completely silent. Michele even stopped typing on her laptop. A man walked in, set his book on the podium, and then spread out pieces of paper on the first row table (no one sits in that front row). I almost laughed out loud.

This is the great and all powerful Oz? The professor that the entire school, including the administration, fears? He is short, heavy set, balding on top, thick glasses, and has an incredible insecure way about him. He is George Costanza from Seinfeld! And I am supposed to be intimidated by this man?

He immediately began class by calling on a student, only dragging it out as much as possible: “Mister-rrrr…” then pausing for effect as he looked around the room. Seventy-two heads lowered in unison as everyone looked down at their desks to avoid being called on. “Barushel…” The whole room sighed in relief. Except, of course, for Mr. Barushel, a young guy at the far end of the forth row, who stood up. Rogerson asked a question about if you need a contract to form a partnership. I thought I knew the answer, but now I am not so sure. I initially thought Rogerson was asking if a client needed a WRITTEN contract, and in that case the answer would be "maybe" depending on if it was a General Parnership or not. But, since the question is just "is a contract needed," then I think the answer is "yes," because even in a General Partnership, you have to have at least an oral agreement, right?

The poor student blew the answer, and Rogerson told him very rudely to sit down. He then started calling on the next person in the same way... “Ms-zzzz…” Professor Rogerson was looking for a female a victim, but everyone looked down at their desks. This same process continued throughout the class. Most of the time, such as with the partnership question above, Rogerson would change the question before we actually got the correct answer. His temper seemed to get worse as we delved into the cases, and no one was giving him the answers he wanted. It quickly became apparent why Amy cannot stand this guy.

The time in Business Associations passed by as if in dog years. Somehow I managed to escape being called on, and I was thankful because I don't know how I would respond to being yelled at like that. I am so thankful to be home, and I am not quite sure I want to go back tomorrow. I never thought I could make it one day pretending to be Amy. I am beginning to wonder if the fear in the law school environment simply distracted everyone from noticing I wasn't her?

All Systems Are Go

I remember in First Grade when the kids on the playground were encouraging Amy and me to switch places. We were all giggly, and it had to be obvious we were up to something. As much fun as it was for the other six year olds, when push came to shove, Amy and I both felt anxiety about taking such a risk. It took several days of planning and goading from our friends. I remember I had a long velvety maroon coat, and Amy had the same coat, only it was blue. When we finally got up the courage, and could stop giggling, the actual switching part happened rather fast. Just as we were called by the teachers to line up to go inside from Recess, Amy and I simply switched our coats and then ran to get in line with the other twin's class.

SCARY does not describe how it felt to walk in the wrong class and to take Amy's seat. I remember it like it was yesterday. Several of the kids in Amy's class knew about the switch and couldn't stop laughing. The boys in her class like Kevin Shelton, a boy who always ran with his hands open instead of in fists, threatened to tell. I thought we were busted for sure because you would think the teachers would notice a student wasn't wearing the same clothes they had on before recess. Thankfully, there was only an hour and a half left in the school day.

I had Mrs. Purdue for my First Grade teacher, and she was very strict (even though she did determine our grades for our report cards based on what we, the students, individually told her we wanted to be given). On the other hand, Amy had Mrs. Hillcrest, who was young and very sweet and very pregnant. I envied Amy for having a nicer teacher who called everyone "honey" and never raised her voice. So, I guess I ended up getting a better deal when we did switch classes. This time, it is Amy who is the lucky one.

Amy called a little while ago to make sure we have all of our bases covered to switch places tomorrow. Dr. Lyle, my grad school advisor and the only one in my life we have told about the switch, has agreed to take Amy under her wing. One of the things Amy will be doing as me is taking a seminar course in which Dr. Lyle is the professor. This will allow for Dr. Lyle to observe first hand how people who know me (Ashley) very well respond to an imposter. I am assuming my friends will be able to tell it's not me, but Amy still thinks she can pull it off. The courses in grad school are not like law school courses. We are treated as professionals in grad school, and we are expected to contribute professional ideas and opinions relating to the subject matter. Another key difference is how the people treat each other. We are all doctoral candidates in Psychology, and we treat each other with respect because we are quick to identify unhealthy behavior.

Amy continues to tell me she is going to set up her own blog in addition to the records she is keeping for the project. We have decided not to talk too much about each other's lives during the switch. We don't want to manipulate circumstances, fix situations, or otherwise skew the results. We've exchanged rules for the other to follow, but once we get started tomorrow, extra tips and hints on how to get along will be cheating. We've also agreed not to read each other's blogs, so we won't know what is going on until the project is over.

In addition to reviewing the rules, tonight Amy and I exchanged emails that contained detailed information about the professors. Amy's enthusiasm is contagious, which is a good thing, because my enthusiasm pretty much drooped after hearing the profiles for the professors I am going to have.

Here's what Amy wrote in her email (in blue):

PROFESSOR MATTHEWS: Intellectual Property (Trademarks, Copyright, Patents, & Unfair Competition)
Last year was her first year to teach at the law school or at any law school, so she is still pretty green. I think she worked for a major firm in South Carolina doing patent prosecutions.
People seem to like her.
She is in charge of the Intellectual Property Moot Court Team for the school. Don't worry too much about it because I am not interested in doing it.

PROFESSOR ROGERSON: Business Associations
I had him for Civil Procedure last year.
With him, especially, be sure to follow THE RULES I gave you.
Don't raise your hand while he is talking or talk to a classmate while he's talking because he will have a raging fit.
Don't ever speak to him when he first arrives in the classroom before class starts.
Don't argue with him, even if he yells at you for something you aren't doing. It will only make it worse, and he never forgets.
Take good notes and be sure to read the material before class.
If he calls on you and you are unprepared, stare down at your book like you are looking for the answer and say nothing. He will likely make a rude comment, but it will be quick, and then he'll move on. Don't try to answer a question if you really don't know the answer at all. Also don't make a lot of excuses if you are not prepared because you will be inviting a public slaughter.
Don't walk in late or get up and leave early.
He uses colorful metaphors, so prepare yourself.

PROFESSOR TARKINGTON: Criminal Procedure
We took Criminal Law as a prerequisite to this course, so there may be stuff he mentions you haven't been exposed to.
I haven't had him for a class before, but he was one of our advisors for our section during the first semester last year.
He is always serious. Don't try to joke with him.
He expects 100% and demands it. Don't be unprepared. If he calls on you and you are not prepared, apologize and tell him straight out you're unprepared. He will deduct 2 points from my overall grade every time you do this, so in other words, BE PREPARED.
Don't walk in class late (if you do, apologize big time and basically beg for mercy). Don't leave class early.
I have gotten the impression he can be a pretty hard teacher, but I have also heard he is very fair.
He's up for tenure this year, which is why I'm guessing he is such a hard ass.

PROFESSOR CHRISTIANSEN: Property Law Clinic
The Law Clinics don't usually start until a few weeks into the semester, so it may be you won't even have to deal with this one.
In case you do, I am guessing it will be a lot of answering the phone and screening clients by using an evaluation sheet.
I've never done Clinic before either, but we were required to take Property Law last year.
Prof. Christiansen is really nice and works as an attorney full-time, with the Property Law Clinic being just one of the places he works.

I feel that same sense of giggles and dread that I did when Amy and I switched places in First Grade. We never got caught back then, and as far as I know, no one has ever told Mrs. Purdue or Mrs. Hillcrest. Here we are in the same boat twenty-one years later. It will be interesting to see how long we can pull it off this time. What's the worst that can happen?

Conquering I.R.A.C.

Ricky, who I am guessing is Charlie's grandson or nephew or other relative, just finished fixing up the jeep. Turns out some of the kids were in it listening to the radio and left it on. Amy's car is an old Jeep Wrangler that, despite its condition, is a blast to drive on the beach, and the kids love it. Of course, if you leave the radio on overnight, the jeep's battery will die. Ricky jumpstarted it, thankfully.

I spent most of the day trying to apply the I.R.A.C. method to different cases. Amy spent a great deal of time showing me how to dissect the law cases using the Issue, Rule, Analysis, Conclusion format. I had to read about it online as well, so I could understand how to identify each element. I've decided to take sort of a National Geographic perspective when looking at this stuff, and try to see what the heck is really going on here. IRAC is supposed to make reading these gosh-awful cases easier.

It boggles my mind to think the legal world educates new lawyers using the Socratic Method and requiring the dissection of Appellate and Supreme Court cases. Why not just give us the rules and explain them? Then show us examples? This method is called T.E.A.C.H.I.N.G. Why make the students read outrageous numbers of pages of cases and have them hunt and find the law? Sometimes the majority of the facts have NOTHING to do with the rule we are supposed to be learning, but they require us to understand the facts anyway. Amy told me the facts from the case are the first thing you are required to summarize when you are called on in class.

After the facts, the professor will ask for the Issue of the case: the question the court is trying to answer.

Then, you give the Rule of the case: the court's rule of law to answer the Issue. (If you can find it.)

Then the Analysis of both sides of the case.

And, finally, for those of you out there who are still awake, you give the Conclusion: usually it is which side has won and the Rule applied to the Facts of the particular case.

Here's my theory: Finding the Issue and Rule in a case requires much the same skill that is needed with those Magic Eye 3-D Puzzles. You need to stare at the pages for a long time. Kind of tilt your head to one side. Squint your eyes. Then pretend you can see the Issue and Rule just like everyone else can.

Amy says, after all that, the professor will tell us to take those facts and that rule from the case we just analyzed and apply it to a new case with different facts. She tried to explain to me that you have to dive into the depths of actual cases in order to learn how to find "precedents" to use when you actually practice law. I still think it is possible for law students to learn how to find precedents for a case by actually be taught how to find them.

Their method feels like with each case we are thrown into the deep end of a swimming pool and told, "Okay, teach yourself how to swim." Just as we struggle and maybe learn to float just a little bit, we are yanked out of the water. Then we are thrown in the deep end of a different swimming pool and told to do it again. The pressure and anxiety that occurs when being thrown cold into each case is what is unnecessary. Why all the freakin' stress all the time?

Elle Woods didn't seem to have this much trouble in Legally Blonde...

Switching

Okay, I guess it is official. The Twinkie Experiment has begun. I am no longer Ashley; I am Amy. It's ironic; if only I had a nickel for all the times I have said: "I'm not Amy, I'm Ashley." Now, I have to re-program myself. Being called the wrong name has happened so often for Amy and me that we pretty much will answer to either name anyway.

I took Amy to the airport for her 7:15 flight. While the plan had been to have her take her jeep and let me drop off the Minivan at Hertz, we ended up just taking the Minivan because the jeep wouldn't start. I guess I am renting the Minivan for a few more days. Charlie said he'd have Ricky fix the jeep for us sometime before class starts on Monday. I'm not sure who Ricky is, but I appreciate him just the same. I wonder if he would like to help me return the Minivan.

I am amazed at how nervous I am about switching places with Amy and actually going to her law school classes. This is so not like me--usually I am cool under pressure and can handle conniving, deceptive plans. (Not really.) It's odd being in Amy's beach house without her here. Kinda lonely. When the window A/C unit cycles off, you can hear the waves outside. And, every once in a while, a strong wind will make the house sway on its stilts a little. A few minutes ago, I was sitting in the recliner next to the floor-to-ceiling window, reading the assigned materials for Intellectual Property, and I heard this click-click-click on the window. My first thought was, great, just what we need, more humidity because it's raining. I didn't think much more about it until it became more frequent. I finally looked out the window to see what it was: THOUSANDS of mosquitoes plastered against the glass, attracted to the light from the lamp next to me. Talk about creepy.

I keep reading Amy's notes over and over about her life. At the top of the pages, she put the title: THE RULES. The notes we gave each other are supposed to make us feel more confident, but it is having the opposite effect on me. The law classroom environment sounds really unhealthy and not really conducive to learning anything. No one should have to put up with a professor yelling at them, unless there is a fire in the building. I tried getting my mind off of the law school stuff by focusing on unpacking and getting organized. What a surprise...I found my teal sweater in Amy's closet. The one I spent hours looking for; the one that has the matching pants that I eventually got rid of because I couldn't find the sweater. Oh, well, I guess an unexpected encounter with my long-lost sweater does make me feel more at home here.

I am going to finish watching the episode of MONK that I taped from earlier. You just know that woman is not Monk's real wife...

Later Thursday

At the hair salon, Amy and I ended up compromising. Holly put some low-lights in Amy’s hair that make it more like our original color, while still keeping some of the blonde. Amy was shown different styles to eliminate some of the flip from the back of her hair because, let’s face it; my friends would never believe I would have a flippy haircut. She put a few highlights in mine, which look pretty good, I must admit. And, yes, I had to cut my hair, but it is still longer than Amy’s, and it has minimal flippiness. I am interested to see what develops in my research regarding how alike twins have to be to confuse people. Amy and I have a great deal of experience with this because people routinely get us mixed up even when there are obvious differences. For example, even last night at the Fish Fry where our hair was different, there were people who could not remember which was Ashley and which was Amy.

We went by the law school -- what a contrast to where Amy lives!
I was pleased to see modern features, such as wireless Internet throughout the building. The law library is beautiful, and it even contains a whole section of non-law realted (normal) books. Amy says the law library is open to the public and that local residents like to use it because there is not another public library for 45 miles. I also like the set-up for the classrooms, with each row of tables and chairs on a different level like a baseball stadium. (Amy says they call the seats at the top the “Cheap Seats.”) She showed me where I am supposed to sit, in the third row center, which I found a bit strange since classes haven’t started yet. Remember that bad Helen Keller joke about how you can drive her nuts by rearranging the furniture? Well, it appears the same may apply to law students. From what Amy says, they have to always sit in the exact same classroom seat, use the same computer when they are in the computer labs, sit at the exact same table every time when they visit the library, and eat at the same table in the lounge.

During our hunt for the professors' syllabi in the bookstore, we ran into several of Amy’s classmates. Now granted, I half-expected a certain level of snotty-ness from the law students, but nothing could have prepared me for my first encounter. Michele is a 40 something, married, mother of one, who might as well have peed all around us to mark her territory. She conveys a sense of ownership about everyone about whom she speaks, and she acts as if she has the inside scoop into how everything works. She had two friends with her, who were shopping for last minute supplies in the bookstore and asking for Michele's opinion on their classes. (One of them is actually taking a Bankruptcy Law class. BY CHOICE.)

Michele sat next to Amy in the classes last year, and they have the same schedule this semester. This means, you guessed it, I will get the privilege of sitting by her in my classes. Michele came over to speak to us because she had some great news for Amy. Since Amy made the highest grade in the Criminal Law course last year (the course that is a prerequisite to the Criminal Procedure course this semester), Michele has deemed her worthy to join their Study Group. Amy seemed really excited, but I still don’t get it. I am guessing since Amy didn’t end up with that great of a GPA last year that she’s thankful to be asked into the group. Even though she made the highest grade in Criminal Law, she didn’t do as well in her other classes, especially Civil Procedure, where she made a 68 in that 4 hour course. Amy has always been "the smart one," and we were all shocked when she told us about the D.

We were able to pick up a syllabus for Matthew’s Intellectual Property course. For Monday, we’re supposed to read in our textbook, Intellectual Property in the New Technological Age, the following pages, cases, and problems:

Pp. 640-642;
Harjo v. Pro-Football Inc.;
In re Nantucket, Inc.;
Pp. 657-658;
Incontestability: Park ‘N Fly, Inc. v. Dollar Park and Fly, Inc.
Problem sets 5-4 and 5-5

Assignment postings for other classes were on the “2L Board” across from the bookstore. There was nothing posted about Rogerson's Business Associations class. There was, however, a note posted for Tarkington’s Criminal Procedure course. It said, "Prof. Tarkington will pass out the syllabus on the first day of class. There is no reading assignment for day one." No wonder Amy thinks he’s such a great professor.

I felt a real sense of dread as we walked around the law school. This endeavor of ours is going to be much more difficult than I thought it would be. There are too many things that can go wrong, and we both know it. I just spent an hour going over more of what Amy needs to know about my life so she’ll know what to do. She will have it so much easier because in grad school there is flexibility. Amy wants to set up her own Blog to record her experience as “Ashley,” so I’ll let her be the one to fill people in on how things are going.

This evening, we’ve been hanging out off and on at Charlie’s, talking with the neighbors, and playing with the kids on the beach. I love the atmosphere surrounding these small towns. I also love the stories and “folklore” the residents come up with. Sam, the guy who owns the pizza place was telling me there is a nude beach about two miles down the road from here. A nude beach...here in the epitome of a family-oriented community? I’ve been down that direction many times where he said it was located, and I have never seen any indication of a nude beach. And I'm pretty sure I would have noticed something like that. In fact, the only school for this area (grades K-12 all in one building) is less than a mile from there. No way is there a nude beach that close to a school. Charlie says it’s been there since the 60’s. Everyone, including Amy, seems to have heard about it; yet, somehow no one has ever actually BEEN there. If there really was a nude beach, every male within 100 miles would have been there. The beach would have 24 hour traffic. Driver’s Ed classes would have it on their driving routes.

Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue

I am waiting for Amy to hurry up and get ready so we can go to the hairdressers (in the CITY, not to the local "Little Annie's Snip-n-Curl") to battle it out about our hair. We have both agreed that we don't want to do anything major to our appearances because that would not be fair in the Twinkie Experiment. However, Amy's hair is shorter than mine, with a few blonde highlights ("from the sun" she says -- yeah, right). She has kind of a cute flippy-cut that can be toned down for her professional lawyer wanna-be days. In contrast, my hair is past my shoulders and still our natural color of light brown. I don't like short hair and am not exactly thrilled with the idea of putting color on my hair. Hence, we have a conflict. We've decided to let the hairdresser make some recommendations.

After that, we're going by the law school to see if there are any more syllabi available for the classes next week. Apparently, in law school, you have an assignment due for the first day. It would be helpful if the professors posted their assignments early enough for Amy to do them before she leaves tomorrow evening. Amy also needs to show me specifically where my classes are and show me around the building. She has completed a year of law school... it would be unrealistic for her to show up in Year 2 and not know where the bathroom is. If we run into anyone, it will be one sister showing the other sister around her law school, no big deal. We are going later this afternoon, so chances are, no one will still be up there. I, personally, think it would be good for us to be seen together. Then people will be reminded Amy is a twin, and it may help facilitate this Twin-Switch thing to where people will figure it out and it will be over quickly. Amy and I are both getting more and more anxious as Monday is getting closer.

By the way, I just have to mention that the Fish-Fry last night was really fun and educational. Numerous professionals like doctors have houses down here, and they love to come to visit Charlie at the edge of nowhere to get away. Everyone loves Charlie. It was interesting to watch the group dynamic. All these people choose to hang out on rusting lawn chairs in the extreme heat and humidity, feeding the mosquitoes, with an old, sunburned, uneducated, grandpa who has a beer bottle permanently affixed to his hand and who is in a constant state of sweat.

I also would like to document a new event in my own life. Under Charlie's beach house, there is a small (un-air conditioned) room that holds Charlie's fish supplies, has a freezer for Charlie's fish, several obnoxious singing fish on the walls, a pool table, and most importantly... a genuine 8-Track Player. I have never seen such a thing in real life. Sure, I've seen them on tv, like on the "I Love the 70's" programs on VH1. But it truly is a sight to behold up close. I got to push all the buttons and yank the 8-Track "tapes" out of the player. Those things are tough. Each track has several songs on it, and it seems amazing when you think about it, that people had that much patience to wait through several songs in order to hear one they liked. I felt like I was trapped in a time warp, listening to tunes from Crystal Gayle on the 8-Track Player while shooting pool and eating fried fresh shrimp that Charlie caught earlier in the day.

Charlie says I need to come to the Fish-Frys on weekends when they serve Brisket. I didn't know Brisket was a fish. ;)

"Guys...Where ARE we?"

We are one step closer to making the Twinkie Experiment a reality. The trip was pretty much okay, and I arrived at Amy's beach house in one piece. I won't go into the hassles at the airport or how much I HATE flying... Let's just say I could have walked and probably gotten here faster. ;) Oh, and I want to say thank you to the weird guy sitting next to me who bored me to death with his magic Okito Box coin routine the entire flight (I want my quarter back, by the way).

I have been looking forward to sunny skies and ocean breezes, and when we landed and were deplaning, the humid 98 degree air hit us like a wall at that little opening between the plane and the tarmac. Mmmm-mmm...Rotten eggs. That's what the smell of the ocean air reminds me of. I didn't reserve a car at the time I made my flight reservation because I wasn't sure if Amy could pick me up at the airport. Turns out she was running around getting all the loose ends tied up, so I had to rent something at the last minute. I ended up with a maroon minivan, complete with standard animal cracker crumbs left on the floorboard in the backseat.

Amy has a small beach house that she rents from Charlie, the neighbor and our confidant during the upcoming twin-switch. It is considered a "second row" house, but there isn't a house built in the first row in front of Amy's house yet, so it's like she has a first row house -- especially with the beach erosion moving the ocean inland. It's a small 600(?) square foot cabin that is decorated in "early beach," including wicker pieces and a miss-matched collection of used furniture from our parents' basement. The house is built up on stilts (you park your cars underneath) like all the houses along the coast, and it has a multi-layer deck that goes all the way around it. You couldn't ask for a better ocean view, especially when the weeds along the dunes are cut.

Currently, Amy's house is sort of a green color (that, I am guessing, probably looked good in the can), but the last time I was down here almost two years ago, it was bright blue. The weather and salt air make it necessary to paint the houses often, which can make finding the right house an adventure. The addressing system along the coast seems a bit creative, with house numbers mostly non-existant. This afternoon, I was looking for a blue house and, if not for recognizing Amy's jeep, I probably would have never found the right house. No matter what the color or condition, however, Amy is really lucky to have the beach house. After all of the help my sister provided to Charlie when his dozen grandkids invaded to live with him, Charlie rents the house to Amy for a pretty cheap price.

Charlie's pinkish-yellow house next door is much larger than Amy's cabin. It, too, is up on huge stilts, but it has a small room under the house for Charlie's fishing stuff. Charlie is a really nice old guy who has lived down here all of his life. He must be in his 60's, but it is hard to gauge accurately because his sun-leathered skin makes him look older than he might actually be. I'm not sure what happened to his wife, but they had four daughters and two sons. Somehow, when the kids got older, got married and had kids, the grandkids managed to make their way back down here to live with Charlie. Amy says Charlie's children live here, too, from time to time, but that Charlie is a far better provider for the grandkids. I sure hope Charlie can care for all those kids (ages 6 to 17) on his deep-sea Shrimping salary. They all met me with nice sweaty hugs when I drove up this afternoon. Wipe off the sand and surf, and they seem like they are pretty healthy and happy.

It was fun getting caught up on all the latest news affecting all the little towns that dot the coastline. Apparently, everyone is thrilled with the Internet service they are just now interested in accessing for the first time. Woohoo! Dial-up! (LOL) However, there is still no cell phone service here, and you can't get a signal until you are closer to the Ferry Landing, 30 miles away. (The "Can You Hear Me Now?" guy should come here.) There is still no "real" grocery store here except down by the Ferry, unless you count the corner "Shells & Bait Stop" as a grocery store. I am guessing a local Starbucks is completely out of the question.

Other than that, not much has changed in the past...oh, 50 years down here. They look like they are doing some construction down the beach, which Charlie told me is the installation of an "Eco-Tube" to help prevent further erosion. You can also tell they've had a series of small underwater quakes recently since there are piles of "brown tide" on the beach (large mounds of slimy, smelly, brown, dead seaweed that washes up from the ocean floor onto the beach and attracts a variety of biting insects). Charlie said he will "call Sam" and have him "doze" the beach to get rid of it.

Amy is telling me I have to get off the Internet now because she has to use the phone to call all the neighbors. Everyone is invited over to Charlie's for dinner. He's having a neighborhood "Fish-Fry" to welcome me.

What does one wear to a Fish-Fry?

Welcome to a Real-Life Twin Switch

I am starting a blog at the suggestion of my graduate school advisor, who is the only one I have told about the twin switch experiment. Although I am keeping formal documentation for research purposes, she suggested I set up a blog for my general comments. I'm using the title "Real-Life Twinkie Experiment" for this blog because people have often referred to us as "twinkies" over the years. Twins usually hate being called "twinkies," but since it is the general public perception I am researching, I thought I would use the icon most thought of generally when referring to twins. I am hoping this whole twin swtich experiment will further prove identical twins do not look or act exactly alike and will show the effects that public perceptions often have on twins.

I am in my third year of graduate school, studying Psychology. Specifically, I am interested in Twin Studies. Yes, I am a twin; I have an identical twin sister named Amy.

DISCLAIMER: Please note our names have been changed to protect our identities, and I am sending emails to a friend who is then posting the blog for me in order to add an extra layer of anonymity. That way, I can say anything I want, and she can be responsible for the commas (and also make sure we are not boring everyone to death).

The Twinkie Experiment has been brewing all of our lives. Everyone who meets us always does a double-take and asks, "Are you identical?" followed by: "Do you ever switch places?" With the exception of one successful First Grade Recess attempt and a few tricks played on guys during our teen years, I can honestly tell you, twins switching places CANNOT BE DONE! Of course, Amy disagrees strongly with me. She feels that even adult twins can switch places and pull it off.

I ran the idea past my advisor, who is the director of the Twin Studies Program where I attend grad school. After much discussion and saying "this will never work," we decided I could incorporate the experiment into my research. What this means is that I can take the risk of switching places without too much harm done to my studies. If Amy takes over as me, any course she takes will be non-credit, but my advisor says she can ensure I won't be tossed from the program due to fraud or anything.

Amy is the one with more of a risk. She can't tell anyone at the law school, because, well, let's face it, they are all sharks or soon-to-be sharks and can't exactly be trusted. It makes it more interesting because if we get caught, not only will I be proven right in my hypothesis, but she'll likely have a whole lot of tap-dancing to do. She says it will be worth it -- even if she gets kicked out, but we shall see. (Sidenote: her GPA was not all that great last semester anyway, no matter what she tells people.) The only person she has told about our project is her next-door neighbor, Charlie, and that is mostly to help me in case I get in a jam. She will have the help of a distinguished professor, Dr. Lyle, and I will have the help of an old sunburned, beachbum named Charlie, who has about two dozen kids and spends his days deepsea fishing. On the bright side, I will have the sunshine for a change, and she can have the bleak endless days of cold and snow... Lots of details that may bore the dear readers out there. I'll try to keep things interesting for you.

Law school has already started for the new first year class, who are attending their first week of hell. I will officially begin my adventure into legal academia next Monday. Amy is starting her second year, and from what I have read, it won't be as bad as the first year of law school. I read ONE-L by Scott Turow, and now I wish I hadn't. Amy says it's not quite like that, but it sounds mind-numbing all the same. Amy will have a cake-walk compared to me when grad school classes start next Monday. She'll still have to go to class and have to study, so I guess there will be some pressure. At least she knows the grades won't count against her--I mean, me. She'll also have to oversee the psych lab where I work, if it is approved by Dr. Lyle. Amy has had some psychology, but I am afraid it might not be enough to fake it in front of a lab full of over-achieving undergrad psych majors.

I am told that the grades in law school are based only on one exam for each class at the end of the semester. I can tell you right now, this experiment will be over long before exams roll around. Amy is scheduled to take 12 hours in law school, which sounds like a light load to me. She also picked pretty decent professors from what she has told me, except for the one who is a bona-fide sadist, but I actually look forward to studying his little mind, so bring it on! I will be taking what appears to be an unrelated hodge-podge of courses. The 3-hour Intellectual Property class sounds interesting. I do dread the "Socratic Method" that is used by professors to teach law school courses, but Amy says Intellectual Property is a core course and likely easy to follow.

There is also a 3-hour required Criminal Procedure course, which I am guessing won't be too bad. We get to see what really goes on behind the scenes of CSI, right? Then, there is Business Associations, a 4-hour course taught by The Sadist. It is the same sadist Amy had for Civil Procedure last year, and for my life, I cannot understand how she ended up in another class with him. Still, I have some experience with corporations and partnerships after years of playing in the stock market sandbox, so I think this one will be fun. The last two hours credit are made up of working in their Property Law Clinic. What a big snore that will be. Amy says it won't be a problem, and that since this is my--I mean, her-- first semester in Law Clinic, there will be a lot of observation and screening of clients. No big deal. I did that in the psych labs.

I guess this is long enough for now. I'm packing up my stuff and preparing to fly down to Amy's. (Fifty bucks says she chickens out and we don't have to go through with it...)