"I'm jogging!"

Tuesday in Cambridge was the day that our group changed into the Cambridge Gang. Admittedly, I came up with the name and I’m still the only one using it, but I feel comfortable with that, so it’s okay.  I had stayed up late on Skype the night before, and decided that sleep was higher than breakfast on my scale of importance for the morning. I woke just in time to walk across the street to the Magdalene academic campus for class. The class session involved talking about two articles, neither of which I had even thought about attempting to look at. This was fine, because Dr. Wikle was able to force our way through the dreary articles with his lovely smile and fatherly sweetness. What an angel of a man. We all love him so much here. One of the articles was about “The Cemetery as an Evolving Cultural Landscape” and I asked Phil what it said. His response was, “Man, it was pretty weird.” So if Dr. Wikle called on me I was prepared to offer, “Man, it was pretty weird,” and fully expect it to be an acceptable answer. Class ended and we were free to work on our group project for the day.

            

Bailey was pretty tired and the British weather had her feeling pretty sick so we gave her the day off. Phil and I decided to make some lunch and head back to Midsummer Common. Since we figured there was no chance of fire this time, we headed over to Malory, Bailey’s dorm building where the kitchen actually has pots. Being dumb boys, we didn’t think that the other dorm wouldn’t take our keys when we tried to get in, but luckily some British cleaning ladies were standing around outside the building giving themselves cancer with flaming chemical sticks. “You need in then, is it?” one of the women asked us. I don’t really know what the sentence was supposed to mean considering it may be one of the dumbest phrasings I’ve heard, but the lady had a key and that key meant a kitchen that let us cook our tortellini so I certainly did need in then, is it. We split the cooked pasta up. Phil went fancy and ate his share out of a bowl with a fork and the sauce poured on. I did it the masculine way and ate the pasta out of the cooking pot with my hands, dipping each cheese filled vessel into the creamy “Mascarpone” sauce. It was a good lunch. After cleaning our dishes we set off for Midsummer Common, ready to be bored by the crappiest of parks. And we were pumped about it.

            

We got to the common and, surprise, it sucked. Naturally we were ecstatic about it and Phil opened his laptop, eager to accomplish our writing assignment. I altered between reading and making stupid, funny, and definitively Jake-like comments about the surroundings. Having finished the assignment, Phil and I walked back, past the Round Church (Dude, that church is round) and into Benson Hall for class, presenting Phil’s writing with pride. While others from the class napped, Phil and I decided to head back into the city and explore/visit Sainsberry’s. Phil wanted to go to some cancer shop to bring home some cancer products branded with Cambridge. I guess giving yourself cancer by smoking things is better if it’s got a famous college name on it? I don’t know. I’m not into that kind of stuff. Tragically, the cancer shop wasn’t where the map said it was, so we walked back to the city center. At Sainsberry’s I bought my favorite thing in Cambridge: a crusty white baton with sesame seeds. It’s just a simple a sesame baguette, but man is it legit. I was so hungry I started to eat it as soon as we left the store. I held it in the crook of my left arm and tore pieces of it with my right hand. It made me feel invincible. Any man who walks through the crowds of a city eating a big loaf of bread is a man who knows what he’s doing, and I felt so empowered. It was a magical feeling. I’m getting pumped just writing about it.

            

Upon reaching the gates to the Magdalene dormitory campus, I had eaten half the loaf. Dinner was in less than an hour, so the correct thing to do was to stop so that I wouldn’t over indulge myself for the day. So, obviously, I ate the rest of the baton, because what the hell. Phil dined on all kinds of sweet treats, taking care to sample all of them for their flavorful worth. We were pleased with our decisions and crossed the street to the Porters’ Lodge to meet the rest of the group. Joel was back with us for dinner, so Phil and I happily fell into step with him on our way to The Mitre pub. Sadly, The Mitre was too full for a group of our size. In hindsight, I don’t think The Mitre could have handled us anyway. It seemed a little snobbish. Our group sadly split up, with Dr. Wikle and a few others heading for The Eagle, which I had gone to the night before. Saying to myself, “Been there, done that,” I decided to stay with Joel’s group and go to The Castle for the third time this week because logic only applies in my life when it serves my purposes best.

          
With a full baton of bread in my happy American belly, I ordered The Castle’s chili, this time without dairy. It’s too much for me. Joel, who had the chili on my recommendation last time we came here, ate the chili again, leaving me feeling like some sort of BA food fan. I admit a bit of a man crush on Joel. The guy is a cool dude. He’s a historian at Cambridge who focuses on the English Civil War. The only time England hasn’t had a royal leader. That’s pretty legit. Phil and I always ask him things about Charles I getting beheaded. I think Joel thinks we’re making fun of him, when in reality we just want him to love us. We like Joel.

           

Dinner was delicious and as the adults left, our group got really funny. Renae, Mackenzie, Cam, Nick, Logan, and I all stayed around, laughing, telling stories, and drinking our beverages of choice. Naturally mine was a coke, because I’m wild. We moved inside when it began to cool down outside and we met Dr. Wikle and a couple students. I’m going to start calling Dr. Wikle “Tom” here because I began to call him “Tom” at this point in real life. Apparently he had bought dinner for the students who accompanied him, a fact that the students told us after he left. Tom is such a wonderful man, and, as if he hadn’t already won our hearts, happily gave Nick a twenty pound note for a few drinks at the pub. Tom does these things quietly with such a genuine nature that you can’t do anything but smile and observe his pure generosity. After the gang began to have some… lubricated… fun at The Castle, we walked back down to the Pickerell, the pub right next door to Magdalene and our now regular spot. “The Pick” as we call it, is a happy little pub with a nice patio in the back with large tables for big groups. Phil and Ryan joined us soon after we arrived and a night of loud fun began. Ryan and Cam rapped. Mackenzie, Phil, and I shared the romantic tales of our lives, and Renae and Nick continued to sass each other with the familiarity of siblings. With all the glasses on our table empty, we somehow found ourselves singing the OSU fight song and Alma Mater, leaving the locals smiling at our antics. The Cambridge Gang had arrived and nothing was going to break this apart.

            

Leaving The Pick, the group came to my room and ate sandwiches. Cam armed himself with ham, bread, and mustard, playing the part of “Subway” for everyone and dealing out sandwiches to anyone who asked. It was a wonderful night and one I will never forget.