Malade

“Sorry, we don’t allow animals in our hotel rooms. Yes, that means possums.”

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“Wow, breaking into the apartments of the Ming emperor sure is hard. Why does he have to live so high up anyway?”

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“That’ll teach you. Never get into a firefight with a gun shop owner.”

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“I really need to stop going to the sauna before bed.”

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At this point I wake up and discover that I’m swimming in sweat and stuck to my sheets. There’s really nothing like illness so all-consuming that it causes delirium. I just hope I’m not the SARS/H5N1/Superflu vector. Wouldn’t that be a shitty way to score a Wikipedia entry?

So the FNGs are on campus, looking as innocent, fresh and doe-eyed as we did four short months ago. They’ve attended an introductory business lecture delivered by Gareth Long-Winded Dyas, made the acquaintance of the infamous Arthur Keller, and survived Welcome Week, Outward Bound and all.

But now comes the true test. No, not whether they can rub their bellies and pat their heads at the same time (though that should be required for admittance into INSEAD), but whether they can juggle their livers and the workload of their first “real” week of class.  3:2 says I witness a group explosion in the Upper Gallery within the next 9 days.  Any takers?

So how was everyone’s holiday? Apparently Res I(p)sa is still on break, since we haven’t heard a peep out of her in weeks…