Sweet Home Chicago

As part of my whirlwind South Florida vacation, last Sunday I got pretty good and drunk, lost some money playing poker, and found myself at Denny's at 7 AM eating country fried steak, eggs, and hashbrowns that I certainly didn't need. I don't even remember how the eggs were cooked, or if I even requested that they be cooked a certain way. I can't tell you what the three guys I was with ordered either. I've since asked how many Dagwoods were ordered, only to be told that the Dagwood is no longer on the menu at Denny's. Let's all bow our heads in rememberance of that fine sandwich.

I managed to get home and in bed by 8 AM. I think I had the presence of mind to drink some water before I hit the sack. This and sleep would be my only defenses against a night of beers, too much Yellow Tail merlot, Stoli Blueberry and Red Bulls, and Denny's coffee. At that point the money lost at poker and squandered at Denny's was what I like to call a "sunk cost."

Fast forward three hours and forty-five minutes later as my cell phone blares out the Halloween theme awakening me, but not doing so in time for me to actually answer the phone. A familiar beep signified to me that the caller had left a message, checking my phone told me that I didn't know who had called. Assuming that this was the guy whom I had told, "The apartment looks great, I'll take it. What do I need to do?" to which he responded, "Lemme get back to you," I hit send to call him back, and cleared my throat.

Then I heard the following:

Hey bub, it's Rose Martinelli from the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business.

At this point I thought to myself, "Holy shit...is this the call that I think it is? Is this the call that I waited for when round 2 decisions came out then when round 3 decisions went out, then in the weeks following the decision date for those accepted in round three? Was the long wait finally over?" I pressed "1" (rewind):

Hey bub, it's Rose Martinelli from the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business. I hope you're well. I wanted to find a couple minutes to chat with you to see if you're still interested in coming to join us.

She's just calling to chat! This is driving me crazy.

I know it's getting a little bit late here in the season,

That's what we call an understatement

but I have an opening if you're interested, so give me a call, thanks.

Now I thought I heard that last line, but I was too busy pondering if this was the real deal, or just some chat aboutwanting to stay on the waitlist. It's weird when you're asked to stay on the waitlist, because nobody wants to. You freak out, and start thinking, "What will they think if I say 'I want to be on your waitlist!'" The point of a waitlist is to get off the waitlist, so asking somebody if they want to remain on the waitlist is an intellectually cruel question.

I listened to the whole message again. After all, I was tired and dehydrated.

Hey bub, it's Rose Martinelli from the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business. I hope you're well. I wanted to find a couple minutes to chat with you to see if you're still interested in coming to join us. I know it's getting a little bit late here in the season, but I have an opening if you're interested, so give me a call, thanks.

Then I stepped out of my room, saw my mother in the kitchen and said, "I think I just got into the University of Chicago," and went back in my room and closed the door.

I then returned Rose Martinelli's call and found out that, yes, in fact, I had gotten into the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business. I don't remember much else about the call except for her saying (paraphrased) "We're sorry to have made you wait so long, but I suppose they say 'better late than never,'" and my responding "I was thinking the more appropriate phrase started 'That which doesn't kill me...'"

I then proceeded to call everyone I knew (almost...if I didn't call you, don't take it personally, you just weren't on the important list).

Then I spent the rest of the day learning what the body feels like the day after hitting the holy trinity of beer, wine, and booze, throwing down some coffee, getting little sleep, and then injecting a sheer adrenaline rush.

What a day.