The Game. (The Harvard one, of course)

The weekend before Thanksgiving I hopped on a plane and headed east.  The destination?  Sunny New Haven, CT where the Game (or, if you didn't go to Yale, the "Harvard-Yale Game") was being played.  I was all set to meet up with my girlfriends and enjoy a kid-free weekend of fun.

It started with a truly terrible day of travel.  Although that started with me cruising through security with my boots on my feet, so I had no clue it would go awry.

Anyhoo, I finally arrived at the hotel, put down my stuff and met Lynne, Maureen and Aldina at the bars.  We drank some beer.  Then we ate late-night pizza.  Perfect.

In the morning, we got up, threw on our oh-so-cold-weather tailgating clothes, chugged some coffee and hit the fields.  Tailgating was a blast.  The Game itself?  Well, let's just say Yale isn't the football powerhouse it may have once been.  We lost with aplomb.  We (meaning my friends and me) did, however, manage to situate ourselves inside a skybox that was rolling with beer, wine and old friends.  It was great to reconnect, see the inside of the Bowl again... and (of course) return to the tailgates.

After that, we hit Yorkside for chow, old school style.  Then the hotel bar for drinks and conversations about zombies.  That part is new school style.  So was the fancy brunch on Sunday, complete with oysters and mac and cheese.  I guess that's the way to roll when you roll back to campus.