A Proper Farewell (3)

Wednesday/Thursday/Friday

Tufts. My home-away-from-home home. What always struck me about Tufts is how the large majority of people are genuinely nice. It was what caught my attention when visiting schools, and it's what has kept me a happy camper these past two years. However, beyond the niceties, I've come to learn that everyone at Tufts is quirky, in all the best possible ways. It seems like everyone realized they could embrace who they are and what they like, or that they're free to explore themselves in ways not available before, and as a consequence, e'rybody is fucking weird. Which is great. My kinda people.

And so it was with a heart beating with excitement that I returned to my home-away-from-home home. After the four hour bus ride spent on my iPod, a few stops on the red line, and a quick hop and skip to College Ave, I was back and raring to go.

“FULL STEAM AHEAD, CAPTAIN”

Glimpses of the Trip

(I'm gonna trim the events of my stay to keep your interest. While my life is as fascinating as a 3-legged dog winning a race, most of my time at Tufts was spent just bopping around trying to find friendly faces to talk to. Those conversations, while meaningful to me, would probably mean diddly squat to all y'all readers out there, so I'll simply leave them where they are in my head.)

• Getting dinner with my “big” John (aka Slurpee) and my “little” Andrew (aka WINK). After waiting for Andrew to return from catching 40 winks (aha, see what I did there?) we stormed into Boston Burger Company and dominated some of the most glorious burgers I've ever seen. John got the Mac Attack, a fine burger with mac'n'cheese on top of it between two sesame seed buns (there might've been some other toppings but I didn't get a bite/ask him). Andrew and I ordered the 420 burger, a diabolical concoction only Frankenstein's creator could have come up with had he decided to work in the food business. Or, ya know, a burger that someone really high thought of. Either or. Anywho, it's a towering beast of food composed of a thick beef patty, mozzarella sticks, fried onion rings, cheese, fries, and honey mustard sauce. The burger is actually tall enough that the only way to eat it without unhinging your jaw is to actually compress it to about half its original size. Even then you're still risking painting your face with food, but it's a sacrifice most are willing to make.
• Returning to 126 Packard. As a brother of ZBT, I am happy to spread the good word around the world and make us known internationally – a ZBT missionary, if you will – but it still sucks to be apart from the brothers; they're a good bunch of guys and some of them are my closest friends. As Depressing as it might be to leave the house for a year and miss the seniors' graduation, nothing got in the way of some good ol' panama (our version of Beer Pong where the ball is live until held by someone, and you have to re-rack at 6 cups). Josh (aka Popo) and I held the table for a good chunk of time, embarrassing all those that dared to tempt the fates by stepping up to the other end of the table. FOOLISH MORTALS, THOU SHALL NOT PASS. We lived like kings until dethroned by Slurpee and his friend. Fuck you, Slurpee. Jason, you're chill. It was a good run, if I don't say so myself, and I was merrily
• Breakfast with Katie and Sam (+ Elizabeth). You two were my original “girls,” and you both hold a special place in my heart. Nothing too special about this meal, unfortunately, just conversing like always and nomming on some food from Hotung. (I know I said I wouldn't write about this kind of shit, but it was a good touch to the end of my stay)

And yeah, that was about it. I returned home with my departure a scant time away. I hear you knocking on my door, Japan. I hear ya.