Labor Day weekend – one last rest before Fall 1 and 2 kick into high gear and the stress (reality) of the assignments and practicum work set in. To enjoy my time, some fellow IAA members, Krista, Gina, Aaryan, and I decided to take a day trip down to Wrightsville Beach near Wilmington, NC. As someone who comes from a town on Lake Michigan and enjoys the lake’s fresh water, I finally understand the appeal of the Atlantic Ocean.
So, with high spirits, we departed from Raleigh on Sunday morning with sights set on the coast. The drive down there is fantastic; all you have to do is hop on to I-40 and take it straight to the beach. You could not ask for a more accessible two-hour drive. However, as it was the holiday weekend, we ran into some traffic when we got to Wilmington. After watching the last bridge we needed to cross to get to the beach rise to let boats pass underneath, to keep spirits high, I said, “Let’s play a game: over or under – getting across that bridge in 10 minutes.” We go around the car, each taking our best guess based on the factors we saw, when Krista says, “Man, it’s humid in here.” Trying to turn the AC up, I notice that I don’t really feel any cold air coming through my vents anymore. I mostly shrug to myself and think about how I will have to deal with that later when Gina, in the passenger seat, exclaims, “What is that smell?!”
With terror in my eyes, looking out through my windshield, I see steam or smoke lazily waft out from under my hood. My stomach drops to the floor. My hands go cold. Panic. The kind of panic where you are trapped in a small space with something going terribly wrong, and you have exactly zero ways to stop it, and all you can do is watch events unfold. Everyone scrambles out of the car onto the sidewalk and looks on as the steam builds stronger. Seconds turn to minutes.
After eons, the bridge finally descends enough for drivers in front of me to get restless and pull forward some, allowing me enough space to rush onto the nearest side street and into a parking lot. Throwing open the hood, I identified the source of the steam as a container marker, “coolant” that seemed to be boiling so rapidly that we later joked about how you could make pasta with it. With minimal car experience among the five of us, we decided that the first thing to do was to call the local non-emergency line, which gave us the name and number of the open tow truck company.
On the phone with them, hearing how glum my outlook is given that it is a holiday weekend, Aaryan took the initiative to call a car repair place that is both open and says they might be able to look at my car today. I entered extreme planning mode, trying to project what possible situations could happen depending on whether they could fix my car that day.
The way I saw it, we had two main issues: the first was getting my car fixed, and the second was getting everyone back to Raleigh. Finding an optimal plan amid these two problems seemed impossible. Luckily, my company around me was adept at finding creative solutions to monumental tasks. We were able to think of all the options we had before us, from potential buses we could take to get back to renting a car from Uber at the airport. Overall, I stressed the importance of flexibility so that if my car were actually able to be driven away that day, I would be around to get it. We walked through many worst-case and best-case scenarios for that day. Looking back, I feel so lucky to have found a community of people who could step up to the situation and continue to think on their feet, go with the flow, and find solutions to problems.
In the respite that planning occasionally provides, we posted a picture we had previously taken to Slack, letting others know how our weekend was going. Almost immediately, we had half a dozen people reach out to us asking if there was some way they could help. Some told us they or their family was nearby but leaving the next day if that could help, and some even offered to drive out and pick us up. Of the second group, one of those people was the IAA’s very own Brandon Barbour.
We decided that taking Brandon up on his offer would give us the most flexibility while also allowing us to enjoy the day a little. So, we explained the situation to him, letting him know that we were still going to try to get to the beach, meaning we might be sandy, and that there was a possibility that my car was ultimately able to be driven back to Raleigh that day. Brandon accepted those facts and started the trek out to get us.
About an hour later, I got a call from the repair place telling me about the issue they found, and I gave them the go-ahead to fix it. Relief flooded my body, and the world felt so much lighter. We updated Brandon, and he asked if we’d still like him to accompany us down there in case something else goes wrong. We decided that was for the best, and after thoroughly enjoying the beach, we headed to the car shop together, picked up the car, and returned to Raleigh.
That day really gave me insight into the depth of connections between the students of the IAA and the faculty and staff that run the program. We’re not just students here. There is a genuine bond between everyone. Everyone wants the same thing: success for the students. If success one day means driving out to Wilmington on a holiday weekend to pick up a couple of stranded students, that is exactly what will happen. Back in Raleigh, debriefing over dinner at Noodle Boulevard, I reflected on Brandon’s flat response to us as we were expressing our gratitude for coming to get us, where he said, “Well, that’s what you do; some people were in need, and you go help them out.” I found myself appreciating the community I had formed around me here. I felt so fortunate to have found a program with people like this. I realized that the true strength of the IAA lies in the connections you build between yourself, faculty, staff, and the other students around you.
Columnist: Matthew Dickinson