Sandbox

I was supposed to go camping this past weekend. I was holey (yes, holey) prepared to go. Friday, I went to the Outpost, where I borrowed a tent, two sleeping bags and a lantern (I’m scared s—less of the dark).

I had even laid out my best faux-flannel shirt, a pair of Smartwool socks I wore with Chacos back in my I-wear-what-I-recently-convinced-my-mother-to-by-me-at-the-local-head-shop-and-smoke-bud-while-listening-to-Dick’s-Picks-Grateful-Dead days and my over-priced, unnecessarily rugged Timberland hiking boots.

Yeah, I was scared. I’d heard people talking about this thing called Chatroulette—a Web site that plunges you into someone’s dorm room via webcam, no censors to protect you. There’s no telling what Man will do behind a veil of anonymity. I was anxious. For The Chronicle, I’d do it.

I hover my mouse over the Play button for a few seconds, thinking about my childhood innocence. Play.

“Looking for a random stranger…” At least they’re being honest. “Connected, feel free to talk now”

In the years since his installation at Duke, University President Richard Brodhead has come under fire for many things, including but not limited to driving his Audi to a posh Allen Building-adjacent parking spot less than a mile from his personal residence. But through all these challenges, Brodhead has remained level-headed.