Here's all of us outside of the science museum in Columbus (COSI), the proud home of Rat Basketball.
Back row, from the left: Jubb, Jenny, Mitch, Peter, Beth, Peter (a.k.a. Sockless Pete), Alan, Lou, Our Bold Hero, and Logan. In the front: Paul, Katy (a.k.a. Stantonk), Alex (a.k.a. Weck), Kate (a.k.a. Jinx), and Alex.
Mitch looked familiar, but while he was apparently several years below me at Lawrence, I didn't really remember him. Paul was a total stranger — a friend of Weck's from Vassar, which is apparently a "real" college and not just a Simpsons gag — but both of them fit seamlessly into the group I remembered.
Pause here to note that Our Bold Hero — introvert, language geek, sometimes-misanthrope, and charter member of Lawrence's anti-Ultimate "Non-Frisbee Coalition" — remains a much odder fit than either of those two. I don't have many of the shared interests that connect most of these people to Jubb (in fact, my brain now interprets Ultimate Frisbee chatter as soothing white noise), so the reason for my presence seems less obvious.
Talking with Jubb's new Ohio friends on Saturday, I found myself working the fact that I had lived with Jubb for two years into my conversations. That's my justification: I really like Jubb, and — with all due respect to the dozen or so other people I've lived with — he was probably my favorite roommate.
Jubb and I — we are from history.
I arrived at Jubb's hours before anyone else, in part because redeeming frequent flier miles had limited my options, but also, mostly, because I'd totally miscalculated when the other Lawrentians would be getting in.
After some quality time in his apartment, Jubb and I walked to a frisbee golf course a mere county or two away, where he played a decent game and I played oh god the horror. For the rest of the weekend I enjoyed complaining about that walk, as intentionally underestimating the distance was such a typically Jubb move.
Alan lives below Jubb, and he met us around sunset, just as we were getting back from the course. He had a van for the next 24 hours, so we did the obligatory beer run and picked up four cases of PBR. I also got a six pack of Ohio snob beer for myself, but it couldn't compare to my favorite Minnesotan microbrews.
I accompanied Alan and Jubb on their harrowing first trip to the airport, to pick up some of my favorite Lawrentians, but after that I just hung out at Jubb's while Lawrentians trickled in for the rest of the night. We went to some nearby dive bars, then (with some amusing exceptions) most of us went back to Jubb's, where the festivities lasted until about four a.m.
(I don't know if it was sleeping on the floor or the uncharacteristic amount of walking I did on Friday, but I woke up on Saturday with a creakiness to my left side that didn't go away all day. At its worst, this made me limp a little during our subsequent walks around Columbus.)
On Saturday afternoon we went to the science museum, the cornerstone of Jubb's itinerary, where the highlight was the continuation of Wendy's streak as Rat Basketball champion. (Also: when Weck blurted out "tricycle" before the children seated at the front of the room could answer the MC's question.)
After that, we ate out at a nice restaurant the name of which I can't recall.
That night was the real Jubb Party. Jubb's grad school friends from climbing and frisbee and chemistry showed up, as did the legendary Garrett from so many of Jubb's stories. Special guests Caitlin and Clare showed up as well; I was expecting some half-remembered acquaintance, so I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that this was the same Clare I'd always got along so well with, and not any of the other Lawrentians that go by that name.
Wearing an Achewood T-shirt to the party turned out to be an excellent idea, as I got into a few somewhat interesting conversations with fellow fans. That was a party highlight, as I'm not usually known for having smooth icebreakers.
There were other stories that night — twice now, Mitch has impressed me with his ability to get more wasted than anyone with no apparent morning-after effects — but for me there was only one other especially notable moment.
Since junior year Jubb and I have been making crazy bets, some of which he's flaked out on or settled via a technicality. I love these bets, which tend to be about language and literature, and until Saturday I'd always won them... but unfortunately long pig is a more common term for human flesh than long pork.
Jubb released me from my unwieldy original wager (eschewing pronouns for a day) on the condition that I finish a very tall shot glass of terrible-tasting rum. After some foolhardy sips, I poured the liquid into four actual shot glasses and spaced those shots out over the next hour or so.
This was the correct amount of caution. The shot(s) didn't do any lasting damage and the remainder of the party was, for me and as far as I can recall, enjoyable and without any particularly embarrassing incident. Eventually, I slept — the night ended sooner than Friday did, actually.
On Sunday, after a brunch at the impressive North Market, and a well-intentioned but poorly choreographed group hug for all the departing Lawrentians, I caught a ride back to Jubb's with Caitlin (and what seemed like a dozen others), loaded my stuff into a taxi, and began the trip home.
