Autumn here in Lake Norman is a beautiful and unpredictable time of the year!

I can’t stomach the nightlife. Not anymore, as if I ever really could. It is not that I can’t stand being around friends and a bunch of strangers after too much buttery food and alcohol, but I guess I just don’t get it.

Now, in my defense, I am not a complete bore, I do enjoy, on occasion, dinner and some conversation for an hour or so, yes, that is plausible, and then I like to go home, with my girlfriend, alone. But a seven-hour plus trip down the alcohol-saturated, karaoke-thumping, word-slurring, memory-loss rabbit hole of the “night out” appalls my reclusive sensibilities. Such events weigh heavily on my mind all day, every day until they come and go and become repressed. The colors of autumn and the crisp air is soothing, but only for a while.

In the hours leading up to such a fiasco, as a night out, it is not just appalling, it is downright terrifying. If there is a phobia for the nightlife and dealing with intoxicated people, then I definitely suffer from it. I am an introvert who collects phobias like most people collect stamps or Pokémon cards. And aside from being eaten alive by a 2-ton grizzly bear or rabid Great White Shark, all of my other phobias can be laid out in order based on the events of a “night out.” I won’t get into all of them because it will become tedious for the writer. But, to name a few, being picked up in an uber by a stranger, stranded without a car outside a loud bar, bars in general, crowds, drunk people, bad music, strangers talking to me, small talk, people slurring their words, being approached by strangers, lines to use the restroom, on and on. It is exhausting having to be me on a weekend when normal people make plans.

I am not speaking out of context here. I too have overindulged to the point of utter embarrassment. I mistook a closet for a loo. Though, those fractured days of intemperance and dipsomania are now unwelcomed anamnesis.

It is autumn in Lake Norman, and the leaves are subtly beginning to change, and even a few have fallen, decorating the landscape with Thanksgiving charm. I love autumn. In part for the beautiful colors that appear here every year and for the fact that I get to work out in the yard, raking and bagging. Is there anything more satisfying than clearing the yard on a gorgeous crisp Lake Norman afternoon, raking and bagging of leaves, clearing out the yard, and finding any excuse not to have to go out on the town?

When I was a kid, we would rake a few yards and make $5, but now I do it for free. Now I find it therapeutic.

Autumn is a special time of the year. It is nostalgic, colorful, and a time when people want to be reborn if you will. It is a time of transformation. Nature is changing, and people want to revamp themselves. They will begin new diets, revise their resumes, set new standards about sleeping patterns and clean their houses, redecorate, and start positive thinking exercises. Others go out on the town and get lit. At the tail end of that hurricane is me, clinging for dear life, desperate for the night to end so I can finally go home and recover over a bowl on Shin Ramyen.

I noticed driving over my favorite bridge the other night, heading south on I-77 leaving Iredell, and entering Mecklenburg County, the lights along the shoreline are glowing a brighter neon green than before. They are a nice contrast beside the romantic and enchanting purple ones that adorn the dock on the north side of the shore, reflecting against the dark water like a dream.

Even the lights have changed. It is that time of the year, and Lake Norman captures it like a hallmark movie. There is no place I would rather spend my autumn evenings than on the shores of Lake Norman, watching the leaves fluttering down and catching the chilly breeze. Despite the late hour, I sip a black coffee and lose myself in the glittering lights in the distance. I listen to the sound of ripping water that calms me before the inevitable Lyft arrives. It is there to take me out for another anxiety-ridden night. An evening of watching people hammer shots, Irish Car bombs, and Cosmopolitans. An evening of drunkards peppering me with repetitive stories and questioning why I am not participating in their excessive drinking bender. People stumbling, slurring, vomiting, tears, yelling, out-of-tune singing, rap music, blur, 3 a.m., pleading to go home. Autumn is back.