NYC

I won. And then I was famous. I picked up my prize and walked back to edge of the room. I was stopped. Two hands thrust forward. One from a woman, beautiful with dark hair, the other from a man with style.

The both knew me, and after the handshake I saw familiarities in their faces. "You are an urban legend," he said. Sadly it was nothing good. Though I was able to verify the story as true. He was from Clemson, and the same high school, but younger, so we never overlapped. She was from Furman - not while I was there - and energetic. She knew my younger sister, Mary, and a curious amount about me but I could not place her. I think I had heard of her through mutual friends. She was quite charming in person.

The reception was nice, generally. I had plenty to drink and the drinks were strong. The finger food came by, and often, on silver trays. And everything was free. The Yale Club is fancy enough where tipping isn't allowed. I like that. I am not ridiculously cheap, I just think it looks nice not to have a bucket of dollars on the bar. I was the outsider. The flyer advertised a reception for Clemson Alumni in the NYC area. But I was the only one not from the College of Business and Behavioral Science. They were almost exclusively Marketing people. There was even a class of Marketing students finishing their "Maymester." But everyone had name tags and smiled. The drinks took the edge off and I introduced myself around the room. There were a few short speeches (the student speakers were embarrassingly poor) and a raffle. I won the book. The iPod was rewarded to someone more related to their field. Such favoritism.

As things wound done I slipped back down the elevators and out of the Yale Club where four staff watched me exit. No thankyous or goodnights, just doubtful stares. I suppose the temptation to wander around the stodgy club may be too much for some. I left the Clemson bag filled with goodies. Having just moved I am very aware of dragging more junk into my house. I walked back to Grand Central and met Maeve fresh in from California.

Maeve left New Haven a year ago when her boss moved to Stanford to be the chair of some new department. She said its not as warm as people think. It is also spread out and sprawling. She is back for graduation. I walked for my Masters last year. I warned her to get the yellow hood, not the blue. We wandered around looking for a few drinks. We eventually gave up and tried for a hotel bar: too stuffy and filled with old people. There was a sign advertising a roof bar whose entrance was along another street. We walked in. The area was empty for just a moment. A very large man entered and asked if we were going up. He checked our IDs, let us into a dark hallway and told us to wait at the elevators at the end of the hall. The elevator opened and another muscular man asked "Up?" He then alerted someone to our presence with his walkie-talkie "I have two going up." At the top we were directed by yet another man through a maze of hallway and backrooms until we popped out on the roof. For all the show it was pretty normal. We were hoping for something slightly more exotic or at least with a few minor celebrities. But the view was nice and everyone was dressed up.

We enjoyed a few drinks and conversation. It is funny how time moves. I remember helping to recruit Maeve to Yale. We took her out to Bar for pizza and then Cozi for desserts. Time moves. The giant digital clock on some building near our rooftop kept track. We made our ways to the train and subway and called it a night.

I met who I hope was the most annoying person in the world. He sat in my car and yelled ridiculous lies about himself. I wanted to go up to him and say "Congratulations! You are the most annoying person in the world. Here is your prize." But I had already unwrapped my book, a biography of Thomas Green Clemson. I really should have gotten that iPod.