Admittedly, I started on this train of thought while I was high. The eating–Doritos–in–bed–alone, binge–watching–"Family Guy"–on–Netflix type of high [ed note: is there another kind?]. The fact that a lot of my peer group (basically my entire peer group) smokes weed is not news.
Welcome back, kiddies. Did you have a nice Yom Kippur? Highbrow did. While most of campus made a mass exodus back to Long Island and North Jersey, we were here: watching, waiting, commiserating.
We hear you blew more than the shofar.
This past summer, I was just one of a thousand eager Penn students interning in New York. Four trains—and an hour and a half of smelling body odor—later, I commuted to the Brooklyn–based office from my boring Jersey suburb to gain “experience” and seize “opportunity.” I learned the ropes of tri–state area public transportation, hustled through the corporate crowds of Wall Street and hopped across the East River to be among the hipsters of Park Slope.