Cliques at GHP did not exist; sure, everyone had his or her group of closest friends, but I kept meeting people until the final day. Sitting at a random lunch table wasn’t unusual or surprising, but welcomed. I sat with many different people at different tables for lunch and dinner, but I always, always sat with the same group at breakfast.
We never officially called ourselves “The Breakfast Club,” but I sure felt like we were one. We exchanged stories, planned our days, and (as always) discussed the notoriously bad food.
Some of my favorite breakfast conversations:
- B’s and my breakfast stories: One of us would do something dumb but hilarious every morning (usually me, I’ll admit), and we’d relay the tale in detail to everyone. Laughter ensued.
- Many of us had cereal with milk, but M had dry Trix cereal that she’d separate by color before eating. We would comment every day.
- The last week and a half, I bought expresso shots at the Starbucks in the Student Union, and I’d have two sips before breakfast. I was significantly more alert than the others, and they would always ask how I could be so alert. It allowed me to fully experience my last few weeks.
- E(?) and I would race to the coffee in the corner and hope that Hazelnut would still be there. It often wasn’t, since we weren’t there at the crack of dawn, so we’d settle for regular with plenty of Sweet ‘n’ Low and half-and-half.
I miss eating breakfast with friends every morning. Now, I either read a book, watchThe Daily Show on Hulu, or watch That 70’s Show (my latest series) on Netflix. Just for some company while I devour my bagel, fruit, and coffee/milk.