“Hey, Dan? Calm it with the sports references.” I know, this is my third sports-referenced blog post title in the past few months, so I guess you could say I’m one overtly-masculine grunt away from being a full-blown athlete. But let’s save the conversation about my transition into a sports icon for another day so we can get on to the actual matters at hand.
When I graduated from high school, I thought that there was one activity that I would never have to participate in again: gym class. I figured that it was a battle that I would have to fight in middle school alone, and I was convinced that I had left the sweaty, always-picked-last activities were behind me. I realized that this was not the case as I discovered that I would have to take my school’s form of a gym class during my second semester of college.
This weekend I completed the goal of traveling to visit a friend. The semester at college had ended on Friday (12/11), and I thought that it would be fun to go somewhere before heading back home to New York. With this in mind, I had made plans a few weeks ago to visit John, my former RA at college, at his home in Delaware. I had not seen him for a few months, and I knew that it would be fun to spend the weekend hanging out. On Friday I set out for the trip, and an unforgettable weekend began.
I have always enjoyed eating, and can remember how even as a young teenager I would binge on food. One memory that sticks out is of a time when I snuck into our laundry room to eat ice cream that was in the freezer. I was so scared of getting in trouble for eating something that I had been told not to touch that I did not even use a spoon to eat the ice cream. Instead, I scooped it out with my hands, as if I was a starving man who was raiding a dumpster. I wish that the stolen ice cream was an isolated situation, but that was not the case.