I'm sitting in the
courtyard outside school, basking in the warm afternoon air, celebrating the
first day in I-don't-even-know-how-many-godforsaken-weeks that I've
dared to leave the house without a coat. My friend Emma comes marching up and
drops her bag dramatically at my feet. "Spring fever is REAL," she
announces, without preamble.
"I can't get anything
done," she goes on, in response to my lifted eyebrow. "I just want to
make out all the time. And I'm always looking around...." She trails off
as a guy in a v-neck tee shirt strolls past, nicely defined biceps on display.
I'm still sitting in the
same place half an hour later when my friend Vijay walks by. He stops to chat
about how nice the weather is, and it isn't more than 60 seconds before he
declares happily, "It's Opening Day!"
"It's...what
now?"
"Opening Day! The
first really warm day of spring, when all the girls overcompensate by wearing
booty shorts and...you know." Apparently he's been participating in an
email chain with his buddies all morning discussing instances of this very
phenomenon. I'm just as happy not knowing specifics.
But this all tallies pretty
exactly with my experience last night, when I came home from a sunset run and
shouted to my roommate, "Every hot guy in lower Manhattan is out jogging
this evening! It is BEAUTIFUL!"
Spring's here at last. My
first east coast winter was tough. But maybe it's time to get back in this
game.
