Kingston

Man, there’s a lot of nostalgia involved in going back to the place where you spent your undergraduate years. You start recognizing landmarks on the way into town, say around Cobourg. You drive though Kingston’s shitty, rundown neighbourhoods – hi, North of Princess! – and the memories start coming hard and fast. By the time you get into the Ghetto, you start having clear flashbacks to your time there. "Hey, I got drunk there!" "Hey, I puked in that alley!" "Hey, I was beaten by Kingston PD in that doorway! Wicked!"

Got to see a whole bunch of friends in K-town, too, which was awesome. Jenny put me up for a few days: her cat likes me, I think, and that’s never bad. Oh, and I ran into soon-to-be Professor Yonek outside the shiny new chem building, and went for drinks later with him and probably-never-to-be Colonel Ryan. Also, at various points I saw Dave, Sian, and Kem.

Actually, I’m pretty sure that nobody ever leaves Kingston. I half expect to wake up and find that the last years have all been a crazy dream. If that's the case, I fully plan on being a guy like the Arts ’72 dude who wanders around in his jacket. Because that guy's awesome.