Friday, September 18, 2009

So that's what a clambake is

The Place
The Place
John and Mike
The Place
The Place
The Place

There's a place in Guilford, Connecticut, where happiness happens. It's called the Place, and it's a real clambake. You bring your own booze, and whatever else you might want, and sit on some stumps with your business-school classmates*. Then you order things like shrimp, clams, bluefish and corn, and these items get thrown onto a grill. Then it comes out piping hot, you eat it up, and you are incredibly happy. And even though it's still technically summer, you can see your breath.

Before that, you go to an LGBT reception, and afterward, you go to the graduate school bar, where you're starting to realize and appreciate just how many people you've met. That's one super awesome thing about GPSCY (that bar, pronounced gypsy); in normal working life, you go out to a bar with your friends, and you sit at a table with those friends, and talk to those friends, and leave with those friends. That's fun, but it's also kind of nifty to be able to go to a place like GPSCY on a Thusrday night and know you're going to encounter a sea of friendly familiar faces, and that you'll have plenty to talk about with the people attached to these faces, since you all do the same things all day. I'd say that, overall, despite the occasional worry or confusion or frustration, life here has been awfully wonderful.
*Small world, but one of the fellow SOM-ers with whom I clambaked, it turns out, lived about a mile from me in the Oak Lawn area of Dallas. Ain't that something?

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