Not long after Anne was diagnosed with narcolepsy, we were sitting outside a party at Sarah's apartment, talking about the diagnosis. I asked her what narcolepsy was and what the symptoms were. As she described cataplexy, this strange feeling came over me - I knew exactly what she was talking about. With her advice, I got tested and found out I was narcoleptic. I guess the odds of us both being narcoleptic weren't incredibly low, but it's a coincidence I've often thought about. Having Anne as a friend probably saved me years of confusion, misdiagnoses, depression, and misunderstandings. Although she probably would have laughed at me, I always wanted to thank her for her help and support during what I now realize was quite a difficult period of my life. In many ways, Anne's the only person who really understood that part of me.
Some of my favorite memories of Anne are times when she was just being herself, relaxing at home. The summer after our third year in college, I stayed with Anne, sleeping on her couch, while I was "in-between" apartments. One day we were just sitting around and decided to order some food from KFC - something Anne was fond of doing. Anne sat on the couch, playing with Naldo when the delivery guy knocked on the door. I answer the door and was surprised to see that the delivery guy was my former T.A. from a geography class. I couldn't help but tease him about moonlighting for KFC, though he grumbled at my joke and and got ready to leave. Anne giggled behind us, and the delivery guy looked up and froze. Turning around I saw her: Anne in her shorts and tank top, reclining on the couch with a six-foot python wrapped around her, looking like some exotic Amazonian princess. Suddenly, the delivery guy was interested in "chatting" with me about the class, but by this point, Anne's giggles had become contagious, and I was trying not to laugh out loud while the delivery guy stammered something and abruptly left. I shut the door, and Anne and I laughed so hard that Naldo got irritated and Anne had to put him back in his cage.
That same summer, Anne and I took a road trip to visit my friend Russell, finishing up at the University of New Orleans. We did all the normal touristy things, like wandering up and down Bourbon Street, sipping frozen daiquiris, contemplating getting our fortunes read at Jackson Square, eating gumbo (though Anne's homemade gumbo is still the best I've ever had), having beignets and chicory coffee at Café du Monde, riding around the St. Charles Street trolley (we both fell asleep), and sweating a lot. I remember Anne singing along to a Nine Inch Nails song as we sat in a dungeon-themed bar, and I remember she and Russell having a heated discussion I didn't overhear. Basically, we had a great time. On the way back, we stopped at a convenience store in some small Louisiana town to get something to drink. We were sitting in the car, getting ready to leave, when we heard a terrible grinding noise and felt the car lurch to the side. After looking at each other for a couple of seconds, we realized that the man next to us had swiped my car with his ancient boat of a car as he pulled out. He turned out to be this big guy with no shirt, who told us in his Southern drawl/slightly slurred voice that he hadn't meant to hit us. Meanwhile, his passenger disappeared for some unknown reason. Anne seemed like she wouldn't have minded disappearing either. Anyway, with Anne's patience and help, I got the insurance stuff sorted out and we were getting ready to leave when the cops showed up. Apparently the men in a pick-up truck parked on the other side of my car had taken it upon themselves to call them. The police told us to file a report, so Anne navigated while we searched out the police station, filed the report, etc. etc. All in all, it added several hours to our trip. Needless to say, I was pretty flustered, but Anne kept relaxed and somewhat bemused, offering to drive – an offer I gladly accepted.
There are too many memories to write about. There's no ending here, just phrases and snapshots: Anne walking purposefully back from class in her Doc Martins, listening to her walkman and humming. Anne appearing as a genie in Corbin's student film. Anne's story about accidentally cutting her Achilles' tendon as a child. Anne asleep on the couch in the lobby of Carothers. Going home with Anne over a long weekend and finally meeting all her siblings. Meeting Anne for the first time outside in the quad.
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