Tonight, I was the last car in a line of five that snaked through the dark, rainy streets of Lower Merion to McShea’s in Narberth. In the cars were students from my writing program, going out for a little post-class bonding and drinking.
When the last person settled down in a seat at the table, there were eight of us. Drinks in hand, we loudly and sloppily clinked our glasses in recognition of this thing we are doing together. Pockets of conversations formed and I bounced happily between the one on my right and the one my left. Ideas for future parties were tossed around, and our lone international student told us of his time working as a journalist in Iraq.
Slowly people drifted away, needing to head home to pets and partners. We walked out, having designated a couple of dollars leftover from the bill as starter money for next week. I followed Emily’s red Jeep back out onto the main road, feeling both sleepy, invigorated and happy to be part of something.