Breakfast at Red Hook Diner and Departure From the Hudson Valley

I awoke Sunday morning with very few things on my agenda. The main one being breakfast at the Red Hook diner. Just as I was packing up, the entire building suddenly went berserk. And by that I mean a fire alarm sounded and kept sounding. I took a look around the hall and heard no screams nor smelled no smoke, so I just went back to packing up and texting K. and C. about their availability for an early morning breakfast. Eventually all my gear was packed and I proceeded towards the exit closest to the parking lot where my car was located. I guess most folks took the fire alarm far more seriously, including the fireman who held the door open for me and a gaggle of my former classmates, some of whom were in pajamas and draped with blankets. C. and K. were also there and it was decided that we would just get on with it and go to breakfast. This was a very good move on our part. The Red Hook Diner is basically the place to be on any given morning, but especially a weekend morning, and on a reunion/graduation weekend? Come 11 AM that place is packed and you're lucky if you don't have to wait 20 to 30 minutes. We, however, waited about two minutes before getting a spot. When something works you just keep going with it, and the diner's 2 eggs/meat/potatoes/bottomless coffee meal definitely works. And my preferred combo always was (and probably always will be) two poached eggs with the deep fried version of potatoes and sausage links. It was everything I wanted it to be. EVERYTHING.

The diner is right next to the building where K. and I both spent about two years post-graduation. In the two bottom apartments. Those were some transitional years for sure, going from student to semi-kind-of-almost adults. And we both left at the same time too, with K. moving to NYC to attend grad school while I moved on to Chicago, also to attend grad school. And here we were about eight years later.

After that it was pretty much the usual getting out of a place. I tried to track down S. who still had my jacket, but wasn't able to get in touch with him and didn't feel like rambling around aimlessly until I heard from him. So we all dropped off our respective dorm keys, got into our respective wheels and drove off from Bard's campus. I crossed the Kingston bridge and the sun was finally coming out and the way it played on the water and mountains was something to see. Unfortunately you can't really see because I was driving while randomly clicking my camera's shutter. Never a very effective method for really good photos.

But you can't say I didn't try.

And that about wraps up the 10th year reunion of the Bard Class of 2003. The majority of my fears were unfounded and it was quite nice to see some of the faces that I wouldn't otherwise see in the course of my everyday life. Good work all around. Though I hope the next reunion I attend will feature warmer weather.