Ever since Freddie moved into this apartment in July 2013 we've heard the rumor that Darius Rucker lives in the small neighborhood behind our complex. Some locals said Yeah, das right to that rumor so Freddie and I have enjoyed
stalking driving around picking out which house we think is Mr. Rucker's.
Oh, that one is huge. Totally his.
This one has a security gate. It's got to be his.
No, no this one! Look at it! So fancy. That's obviously a Darius house.
And then some local paper did a feature on the decor in the Rucker home and 1) spoiler alert: it's beautiful and 2) we figured out which house it is and 3) we were totally right with our first house guess.
Here we are one year and two months later and we have yet to see our friendly neighbor Darius. We have yet to be invited to his neighborhood parties, more like. We always hear of Darius sightings at Publix (the Publix we shop at multiple times per week). Nope, never a Darius sighting there for we common Weiss folk. We always hear of Darius sightings at Target (the Target that is right next to the studio where I teach). Nope, never a Darius sighting there for we common Weiss folk. Not even a Darius sighting when I go for my s-l-oooooo-w run through his neighborhood. Home boy likes to hide, obviously.
Well, no sighting until this past Sunday, that is.
We common Weiss folk are now some not-so-common Weiss folk/best friends with Darius Rucker folk.
Let me set the scene for ya.
We were driving back home after a weekend full of 30 year old birthday partying. Read: it was a crazy weekend. Bodies were tired, brains were achy, and stomach were hungry. As we turned onto our street we noticed we were behind a rather large tour bus.
Ummmmmm, hey Darius.
Suddenly bodies and brains and stomachs weren't so important because following the bus was important. We not-so-creepily passed our complex, turned the corner and watched the bus back up to Darius' house. In order to look like just a regular 'ole neighbor who was used to Darius and big tour buses pulling up on a Sunday, we did one lap around the cul-de-sac and came back around.
And there was Darius. Stepping off the bus with a baseball cap on his head and little bag on his arm. No big deal. Just another Sunday Funday.
Eeeeeeeek!!!! and squeal!! And clapping and no freakin' ways being said!
Then we realized the windows were rolled down and suddenly we didn't look like the regular 'ole living-by-Darius neighbors.
Who. Cares. The week we move 4 miles across town is the week we finally saw Darius Rucker and all is right with the world.