This morning after a classic diner breakfast to kick off the weekend, I got to see the magnificent campus of Columbia where my grandparents met. That’s a truly beautiful place to fall in love. The names of ancient philosophers and writers like Homer, Plato and Sophocles are etched across the top of the imposing Grecian edifice that is the Butler Library. The grounds have a regal air to them as any Ivy League might, but given that it’s in Manhattan, and also my extreme and undeniable familial bias, I can’t help but think that Columbia is clearly the best one. I’m open to discussion on this topic but please be privy to the fact that I have no further arguments, and have never visited any other Ivies. Thank you in advance.
Later on, I met up with two of my cousins, Allie and Eliza, for drinks at the Ainsworth in midtown. These babies know how to pick a bar. It was like every single person in their early-twenties residing in the city had congregated there, but somehow with our luck, we settled right into one of those L-shaped couch-tables that everyone always covets in lounges, which had apparently cleared out half a second before we happened upon it. This is the first miracle I’ve ever witnessed. It was as grand as they say it is. I only see Allie and Eliza every three years or so for family reunions in Beach Haven, New Jersey, and the next is this summer, so it’s been a minute since we last caught up. I wish it could be more often, but it doesn’t matter how much time has passed between visits, because it always feels like I grew up right next to them despite the 3,000 mile difference. On Sunday, I got lunch with a friend from high school, Marlon, who now works in stock trading smack in the middle of Times Square. He is absolutely killing it. He took me to the best ramen place in town, and then we pounded a beer and a shot of tequila at the bar next door in homage to the good old high school days, (just kidding Mom and Dad)* and then I walked right across the street for call time on Broadway. It was 2pm and it was time for the show that Carina, Natalie and I had gotten standing room tickets for that morning for $27. We’d gotten two each for the others who met us there, and together we saw Book of Mormon. I know I’m like a decade late to the party here, but if you’re gonna see a show, and especially if you’re gonna do it a couple drinks deep, this is the one you want. Broadway will never lose its luster to me; I’m in awe of the talent that moves through it, and I will never forget how it feels to curtsy on stage even at a community theater, and I will always cry at curtain calls out of pride and joy for those performers up there whom I’ve never met. *but unfortunately, not really
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