Boston is in the throes of winter. On my walk to the train station I mutter “RIDICULOUS!” under my breath as I penguin-shuffle up a hill of ice. A woman gives me a strange look as she gingerly steps around me, but I don’t care. It IS ridiculous, and I am tired of it. THe entire walk takes me twice the normal time, and I nearly wipe out four times. Luckily, I manage not to spill any of my french vanilla-flavored coffee on my puffy down coat. It’s times like these that I wish I lived in Florida or South Carolina, somewhere warm. Anywhere but here.

I leave work early and head over to the Green line to Kenmore. Once I arrive at Eastern Standard, I quickly find myself with a glass of wine in my hand; things are looking up already. Conversation flows and I am drawn into a stimulating debate with a first-year PNP business student on the merits of the bailout. An hour slips by without my noticing it, and I head over to Foundation Lounge to continue the mingling with general management admits. I laugh, smile, snag a piece of sushi, and exchange some business cards. At the end of the night, I reclaim my puffy penguin coat, my salt-caked boots, and slide on the headphones to my iPod like a coat of armor against the brisk air outside. It’s been a good night, I think as I skate my way home.


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