Summer in the Bubble

Published May 8, 2007

By Henry Melcher

For any student who has only enjoyed Burlington during the year’s academic months, let me be the umpteenth person to inform you: you are missing out. Summer in the Bubble passes by almost inexplicably; it is as short and wondrous as a daydream on the green in between study sessions.

The streets are less crowded, a satchel of verdant niceness is never beyond reach, and the pit-stained yellow Jersey plates – thank goodness – number far fewer. With this comparative tumble-weed emptiness, nature’s majesty and the uber-heady bourgeois downtown are both greatly enhanced.

The roads to the mountains, rocks, or swimming holes are as open as your car window, and there is no such thing as a Friday night cluster-fuck at Pearl St. Beverage.

And as the birds return from their seasonal sojourn south, so too do the bottle collectors and friendly neighborhood bums. Not to discount such downtown staples as Jerry (frequent bottle-scavenger, wiffle-ball player, and performer of the “Charleston,” if gently prodded), Taz the bottle-man, or Kornbread, but the slew of friendly new faces and exotic odors are an indelible piece of Burlington’s summer fabric.

My first encounter with the augmented population of disheveled wanderers took place inside my very home, as crowds of tan and jubilant bodies lined my house’s hallways and stairwells for an EPIC 4th of July throw-down.

To my surprise, intermingled with the young and eager bodies stood an unshaven man in a trench-coat, holding plastic bags which contained, among other things, more plastic bags. A bit bewildered yet at the same time pleased, I passed him a PBR and continued on with my own aimless wandering.

This illustrates the vibe of a Burlington summer pretty well. A sense of harmony emanates from the austere auspices of the University. Since we are still in college (or pretending to be like those slothful super seniors), summer is our off-season, which allows a healthy dose of debauchery and lechery by all.

And if that isn’t justification for my actions last summer, or reason enough for you to stay this summer, find solace in the bumper-sticker on my neighbor’s broken-down VW bug – whose flat tire hasn’t been changed since September: “Not All Who Wander Are Lost.” Right on!

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