Happy Graduation Jeffrey

It’s weird, because even though I feel pretty immature and know I’m young, I constantly get slapped in the face by how old I’m getting. Jeff’s graduation from college was one of those wicked face whacks. He’s two years older than me, and now a college grad. I remember when he got his license and it shook me—my brother can drive. He seemed incredibly old. This is like that, except a lot worse. I thought college grads were grown up, but he just doesn’t seem that way. Regardless of my convoluted thoughts, in mid-May I traveled down to Washington D.C for Jeff’s graduation festivities.

The traffic on the way down was horrendous. My dad drove one car, and my mom and I followed (Jeff needed one to move out.) Driving 6 hours in bumper to bumper traffic with my mother was worse than preparing, taking, and getting the results of the SATs. The ride was accompanied with snaps of “Slow down! I see break lights!” “Why are you still accelerating?” “You treat this car horribly” and “Do you ever listen to a song all the way through?”
When we finally pulled up to the Key Bridge Marriot my dad ran to check in and upon his return we quickly parked the cars. We were running late for our 5.30 reservation at an Italian place my brother had been longing to try since his freshman year. The streets looked like downtown Baltimore after a Ravens game, so we walked.

Sweating with frizzy hair and a stretched out sun dress I had not planned on wearing, I speed walked to the restaurant moving faster than a golf cart, but not quite the speed of a scooter. I swerved through people like cones in a car commercial, and infrequently glanced back at my exhausted mother lagging behind. I was determined, this reservation meant eating fabulous food, but more importantly I didn’t want to let my brother down. After a walk which took longer than I expected, I saw Jeff under the awning and quickly crossed the street. We went downstairs to inform the inpatient host that indeed one more member of the party was there and two more were on their way. Jeff went back up to the street to find our parents and I held down the fort, finally catching my breath from my travels. The crowd was excited yet classy. People were celebrating, but in a low-key manner to accompany the dim-lit high class restaurant. They would have time to rage at the black tie ball later anyway. We finally sat down to dinner and all scarfed down warm crunchy Italian bread, sopping it up with salty thick olive oil. Jeff spoke of his depression about being done with college, and my parents listened thoughtfully as I munched on my bread, while we all thought about what the hell Jeff would do now.

Graduation marks the first time in Jeff’s life that he’s had no plan. Parallel with my life; we went to middle school, and knew after that was high school, then college. Our parents decided where we good to high school and had a heavy say in where we attended college. There was never a need for us to make decisions, ultimately our parents made them for us. After years of floating by, Jeff had come to the end. It is like a second birth, but instead of being brought home and coddled by loved ones, graduating is more like strangers with masks blindfolding you, throwing you in the back of one of those white vans, and then dumping you out in the dark while the truck is still moving.

After finishing dinner, we rushed back to the hotel with an approximate hour to get spiffed up for the black tie gala hosted by Georgetown for the grads. I tornadoed my room and got ready in time to meet my parents in the cab line. I complained about my hair and the uncomfortable amount of makeup I was wearing while everyone else seemed to enjoy their get-up. We picked up Jeff on the way and arrived about 40 minutes later at Washington Train station. The huge white marble station could make any city train station envious. I felt bad for the poor souls who actually wanted to just take the train, as it was swarmed with fancy folk ready for the night out.

We get inside and take some photos before bumping into a family which we have known for about 10 years. I speak to the younger brother of the graduate who I attended middle school with and had a massive crush on in 5th grade. Of course I was awkward, made some small talk and about 5 minutes in was quite ready to hit the open bar. We walked around checking out the station’s décor and hung around. Around 12 a.m my parents left. I basically invited myself along with Jeff for the night, and he surprisingly seemed okay with it. As soon as they left we drank a significant amount more. I talked with Jeff's lovely girlfriend, and he with his roommate. We left when it died down and went to a few different places, ultimately ending up in a backyard of one of his friend’s houses.

The graduates seemed excited but somewhat somber, realizing this was the end. We ventured back to Jeff’s house where they called me a cab to return to the hotel. I got put in a cab around 5 a.m by a wine-bottle swinging drunken brother telling me to text him when I got home. The cab driver remarked on his state, and I replied “well, it’s his last night of college.”