Just a Taste, Pt. I

It was like perusing the last ten years of my life, while sampling the tastiest cuisine Chicago has to offer. Or, visiting a museum of sorts… but with better concessions. As soon as I hopped of the plane, my linesister/honors fraternity brother/dear friend picked me up in her Honda, which I fondly remembered as a party-mobile from our college days. I was beaming. I had never visited the Windy City before, and I could only imagine what the weekend had in store for us.

We dashed home so that she could change/recuperate from her evening. Then, we headed to The Taste. At the entrance, one of my BEST friends from high school, “Matthew” was sitting, waiting for us. He called my name, I spun around, and there he was. He was as tall and handsome as ever. He still had that broad smile. His foreshadowing grin alluded to inside jokes we would revisit over the next few days and new anecdotes from both of our lives that would keep us in stitches; it signified a genuine love between two strictly platonic friends whose bond had survived over a decade.

I made the introductions: “high school friend, meet college friend,” and vice versa. As we made our way down the crowded street, who did we stumble upon but more high school friends. Guys I hadn’t seen since Christmas – whom I hadn’t expected to see again until Thanksgiving. The world is so small. “Heeyyy!” we smiled and cheered. Half-embracing, half-leaning back to get good looks at one another, we simultaneously began pulling out our cameras to capture the moment. Phone numbers were exchanged, etcetera, etcetera. It was time for food.

Round Two began shortly afterwards. This time, I was embracing, and getting a good look at, and photographing my college friends. I hated to make Matthew feel uncomfortable… but I hadn’t seen some of these people since I graduated, which was over two years ago. There’s just something about being in the midst of intelligent, fun-loving, driven, well-rounded, jovial, smiling black folk… particularly when, the moment you see each other, you’re transported back to your college years. No, we weren’t standing between the pizzeria and fried chicken booths; we were on the yard, at noon on a Friday… A First Friday, no less, which meant we had plenty of time to kick it. And, though our memory session lasted for only twenty minutes, it provided a glimpse, a taste, into everything I had loved about my college years. Man, I miss my alma mater.

Fast forward to that evening where even more fellow alumni surprised me. One guy, whom I considered a mentor and big brother as a freshman, was at the club videotaping the crowd. He was working. He was one third of an entrepreneurial production company called Hear My Vision which he and his colleagues had established in college. I was shocked to see him. His locks were longer, but his smile hadn’t changed. After doing a double-take, I staggered towards him, half-drunk and half-amazed, for a warm hug. He was engaged! The wedding was in September! His fiancée, his long-term girlfriend from school, was someone I had known from my dance ensemble at school. I couldn’t have been happier for them. They had survived undergrad in a place where some the most intelligent and most attractive black people resided. Congratulations were definitely in order. We exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch, and parted ways. Had I really just seen him?! Was I in the Twilight Zone? Could I press “pause” and just stay here for awhile? Could we all just move here and re-live college happily ever after? PLEASE?

Saturday was a blur:
Woke up.
Cooked and prepared for the Bar-B-Que.
Showered.
“Ashlyn” made some magic punch with Everclear, pink lemonade and Raspberry Gingerale.
Guests arrived.
I started drinking.
I can’t remember the rest.

Sunday, although I was hung-over, was amazing…