Go Crimson

Tonight I went with my partner to her Harvard class reunion dinner at the Harvard Club in Manhattan.  Now, mind you, I didn't go to Harvard or anything like it.  I'm a state schooler all the way.  Not to boast (oh, hell, okay -- to boast) I was admitted to graduate school at Columbia, but I couldn't afford it, so there went my chance at the Ivy League, and I can't say I have regretted it.  (Why can't I say that?  Because I don't regret it.  I had a blast at the grad school I did attend and got a fine education.  True, I have not become a big-name academic, but that is because I am lazy as sin, not because I didn't go to Columbia.)

Anyway.  The Harvard Club was a kick and a half.  To begin with, it's huge.  And plush.  The walls are filled with testaments to Harvard's age and status; the cabinets are packed with those understated curios that say, in an understated way, of course, "we're Harvard and you're not."  The lighting, as you might imagine, is discreet.  So is the staff.  The place just drips with uniformed waiters, doormen, desk clerks, coat check guys, hostesses, and a bunch of other people whose only job seems to be to help you when you get lost.  (Yeah, I got lost.  Did I mention the club was huge?  And it had all sorts of odd corridors and turnings and unexpected doors.  Plus, I had rather a lot to drink.  It wasn't my fault, officer.  The bartender used 2/3 gin to 1/3 tonic.  That's not the usual ratio at the watering holes that I occasionally frequent.  I guess I should have expected no less from the Harvard Club, but I'm not used to life in the posh lane.)

The President of Harvard spoke at the dinner, giving just the right touches of ordinary-guy bonhomie along with the requisite "We're Harvard; we're better; give us money" rhetoric.  Those of you in the US might recall that he recently got into a bit of a flap over remarks he made suggesting that by nature, women might not be as good as men in math and science.  Of course, he made just the right jokes about the whole thing.  He's good, this guy.  What are a few slurs against women if the man can raise money?

It's a measure of my very ordinary suburban middle-class upbringing that I had no idea that places like the Harvard Club exist.  If my undergrad school even has a club, it's probably in the back room at a VFW hall somewhere.

I loved the whole evening.  I love fooling people into thinking I'm part of their club when I'm anything but.  I love eating rich people's food for free.  I love even more drinking rich people's booze for free.  (Yep, the whole evening was free, unless you count as a cost the dinner speeches asking for money.  I don't [count them as a cost, that is] because I know that a) I have no money to give and b) even if I did, I wouldn 't be giving it to Harvard.  So the dinner speeches were as nothing to me.)

I hope I don't sound like a reverse snob, making fun of the rich because I'm so far out of their league.  I don't mean to, honestly.  Sure, I think it will be harder than a needle to get a rich man's camel into heaven (or whatever that phrase is), but I don't resent them.  I'd be glad to be rich myself if I could only figure out how to do it without any effort or any risk of prison.

In the meantime, I'll content myself with tagging along with my much smarter, Harvard-educated, beloved partner.  Have I mentioned that she got 1550 on her SATs?