I’ve been in Miami for the past four months and the physical beauty of people here, both men and women is stunning.  It doesn’t matter if I’m at the grocery store, South Beach, Starbucks, or riding the bus at 11PM; Miami is an absolutely beautiful place.

In particular, the women here go to great lengths to show off their physical attributes. Even my female classmates have commented on the beauty of the women. My female friends from around the country who aren’t in Miami have asked if women are truly so beautiful.

 In my opinion, it’s quite clear that Miami is a beautiful place!

Though some of the beauty might be slightly enhanced by plastic surgery, it is still pretty unbelievable to be walking around Miami in the summer heat. The women are in high heels, short skirts or tight pants, and low-cut tops at any location you visit.

I’ve had a hard time concentrating at the grocery store, when drinking coffee at Starbucks, or simply crossing the street. Maybe it’s the Latin influence, maybe it’s the hot weather, but I think it’s the combination of both that makes Miami such a beautiful place.

For the most part, I haven’t attempted to meet any of these attractive women. Two of my mentors in Boston recommended that I abstain from both women and alcohol during my study period in Miami, so I decided to heed their advice. [Note: I think I actually had more of choice with the alcohol than the women.]

 Thankfully, my monk-like abstinence wasn’t all for not as I managed to pass my semester and will be proceeding on in medical school.

However, only 9 days before my final exam, I was introduced to someone I could simply not overlook.

Originally, I had heard about “Mary” for the past few months from my best friend at school, Tara, who is a fellow Stanford alum and basketball player.  When Tara met my friend Chris, who is a PhD student at Miami, we discovered that Chris also knows “Mary” because she, too, is a PhD student in clinical psychology at Miami. The world really is a small  place.

Yet, despite the fact that my two best friends here in Miami, one from school and one a transplanted friend from Boston, both had significant ties to this woman, I hadn’t managed to meet her in the three months I’d been in Miami.

Then, after night of transcribing notes at Starbucks, I decided to stop in on Tara and “Mary” who were having dinner at a pizzeria nearby. When I sat down across the table from “Mary” I was immediately smitten by the 6′ model-esque brunette who was sitting across from me. But I tried to play it cool. So to keep my heart from racing out of my chest, I decided to drink as much water as possible.

At the conclusion of dinner and with only 8 days left in the semester (and a massive six-subject cumulative exam awaiting me), I decided to delay my attempt at getting to know “Mary.”

But then Tara did me the favor of e-mailing ”Mary” and I before she left for California. I waited a few days until after the final and then wrote a quick e-mail to “Mary” asking for her phone number and inviting her to dinner.

I don’t think it was the smoothest attempt at getting a girl’s number, but two days later, and after approximately 100 checks of my gmail account, she sent it to me. [Note: it is possible that she was performing a background check or simply verifying with her friends that I wasn't a complete bum.] To say that I was ecstatic is an understatement.

Unfortunately, I recognized that I was operating with a limited schedule as my last six weeks in Miami would include three weeks of traveling around the country. 

The first road-bump to our date developed when I informed her that I would be out of town for the next five days. I suggested the following Wednesday or Thursday for dinner, only to get a reply that she would be moving into a new apartment and then leaving Miami for three weeks of vacation [Note: I imagine this is a similar feeling to winning the lottery and discovering that half of it is immediately taken in taxes... absolute buzzkill].

Alas, I am acutely aware that “Mary” is worthy of more of a pursuit than to be dissuaded by a THREE WEEK scheduling conflict.

Then, at 8AM, the morning after returning from being out of town, I ran into “Mary” at Starbucks. With her semester-long project strewn out in front of her, I was pleasantly surprised to open the door and see her.

It was in the thick of the ensuing conversation that I found out about “the firefighter.” Our discussion was progressing through all of the places she will be visiting during her vacation when she made mention of her upcoming move to South Beach.

 I reminded her that I was available to help with the move, to which she replied, “No, thank you, though. I think I’m all set. One of my friends that I play volleyball with, he’s a firefighter, and he said he would help.”

“A firefighter…” She may as well have said that he’s a Swedish male model who volunteers at the local homeless shelter. The thing about firefighters, especially in Miami, is that they are typically well-above average in looks and have the whole “men in uniform” thing going for them. Even the female firefighters in Miami are hot.

So I responded to “Mary’s” comment with a tongue-in-cheek response about the firefighter carrying her couch by himself. She nodded as if this is obviously what was going to happen. We then exchanged a few more pleasantries before I settled into reading the paper and she began working on her project again.

But my brain made a very crucial connection at that moment: there is always a firefighter.

What do I mean by that?

I mean that I’ve run across a few other “firefighters” in my life.

Most recently, while I was still living in Boston, I was interested in a particular woman with whom I was out drinking one night. At the end of the night, I offered to help her catch a cab, and when she declined, I slyly offered for her to stay at my place.

But she declined again. She said, “I’m just going to walk home.” Knowing that she lived like 3 miles away, I informed her that maybe she was too drunk to walk that far home and that she could sleep on my couch, which was only 1 mile away.

To which she replied, “Maybe I’m not actually going back to my place… maybe I’m going somewhere else.” There is always a firefighter.

In “Mary’s” case, she is a 20-something, super-attractive, leggy, PhD student who played college basketball at Stanford. If there were only one guy interested in her at any given moment, life on Earth as we know it would have probably ceased to exist.

Multi-faceted people like “Mary” will attract every size and shape of guy.

 Her physical beauty is sure to turn the head of most guys.

 Her athletic prowess is a huge turn-on for self-confident men.

Her academic and professional pursuits is the thing of dreams for intellectuals.

Individually, each of these traits is sure to attract many eligible bachelors. Together, she is probably turning down guys’ advances left and right.

For me to assume that there wouldn’t be at least one other guy trying to take her out is not only careless, it’s down right dense.  However, I find each of those three aforementioned traits attractive in their own merit; all three of them in one person make “Mary” an unbelievable catch.

The presence of a firefighter in her life is not enough to reduce my interest.

As well, the fact that the number she gave me actually had her voice speaking on the other end is a relatively good sign. At least I didn’t get 867-5309 from her. [Note: I woke up one morning in college and had that number written on a Wendy's napkin in my pocket; I should have kept the napkin, but I am pretty sure I was still drunk when I tossed it in the garbage the following morning.]

Combined with this relative epiphany about the firefighter, the limited time frame with which I have to take her out, and both of our hectic vacation schedules, the degree of difficulty I am working against is very steep.

By my calculations there are 3 days left in the summer during which we will both be in Miami… I’m giving the degree of difficulty a solid 9: not impossible, but only barely doable.

However, this is a woman with whom it is well-worth taking the risk of being seen as a little too aggressive. So I e-mailed her again the other day wishing her a fun vacation and reminding her to give me a call when she gets back.

To some people, it would be viewed as being a little over-the-top, maybe even hard-up. But I described my interest and pursuit of “Mary” to my brother by saying,

“It’s like being down by 10 with one minute to play in a basketball game… you either decide to up the tempo and put on the full-court press… or pull back and concede defeat.”

He replied, “You press like Pitino.” [Note: Pitino is Rick Pitino, the head coach at Louisville and a Kentucky legend.]

His analogy may be true, but I would rather not wait 16 months to go out on a date with “Mary” (I’ll be back in Miami for my 5th semester in January 2011).

Of course, there is the possibility that she is not even interested, but simply didn’t want to offend a mutual friend and will hope that I get the hint at some point. I’m hoping that is not the case, even though I’m departing Miami in less than a month.

I’ve simply chosen to recognize that there is always a firefighter… in this case, I would just prefer to be the one lighting the fire rather than the one putting it out.

Most of my ill-conceived repugnance for Cincinnati stemmed from my antagonistic approach to rooting against my college friends’ sports teams, namely the Cincinnati Reds and Bengals. A large portion of my college friends hail from Cincinnati and as a consequence, my unadulterated love for St. Louis sports teams created a stable base from which could be fostered a lasting friendship.  I simply rooted for the Reds to lose to any and every other Major League team and watched as my die-hard Bengals fans/friends endured over a decade of horrific mediocrity.

Their pain and anguish of watching Akili Smith interceptions, Wily Mo Pena strike outs, and Chad OchoCinco’s slowly disapating touch down dances, made me happy.  My joy stemmed from the fact that they could then retort with calling me a bandwagon Boston fan and pointing out the tragic deaths of Cardinals players. [Note: referencing the tragic death of a sports team's player is only appropriate after enduring another 3-13 Bengals season.]

As a result, I came to view Cincinnati, the birthplace and/or home of Gib, Fat, Wade, Hern, Zelch,  Hoj, Jdawg, Wade, Cole and a myriad of other respectable Cincinnatians, as a desolate wasteland of losing and misery. Even after spending a few joyful holidays and the summer after college graduation in Cincinnati, I still viewed it with disdain. It didn’t matter to me that so many of my friends called it home. Some of this disdain may have subconsciously stemmed from my own hatred for my boring hometown, Wichita, KS, but despite this self-awareness, I still considered Cincy to be another boring example of Midwest America.

When I moved to Boston in the summer of 2004, I felt as if I had been jolted alive and awakened from some sort of zombie-like slumber in which I feel most of the Midwest is entrenched.  My return trips to Cincinnati were for the weddings of my friends, who had returned to Cincy after graduation to start their adult lives with jobs, to find lovely women with whom they could spend the rest of their days, and to start families. This is not what I had in mind. Even when I returned to Cincy to bear witness to these blessed events, I still couldn’t help but think of Cincinnati as a boring place to live, and while I didn’t begrudge the lives of my friends, I didn’t think that an existence in Cincinnati was for me.

So when I was getting my grove on to “I Gotta Feeling” and watching my friends and their wives dance around Wade and Lindz, imbibe alcohol with reckless abandon, and generally have an unbelievalbly happy time, I had another one of those jolts.

I looked out into the Cincinnati skyline from Paul Brown stadium and had my opinion of Cincinnati completely reversed. Maybe it was the heat of the moment and seeing the smiles and joy on the faces of people whom I love and respect, but when I woke up the next morning, it was still there. My opinion had changed and it was all seemingly because of The Black Eyed Peas. Indeed, I got a feeling.

Wade and Lindz are the second to last of my Cincinnati friends to get married. First it was Zelch and MJ right after college. Then Matt and Jo two years later. And then Jeremy and Tiff two years ago. Cole and Mary Lynn weren’t far behind. Gib and K-T tied the knot last fall and were followed quickly by Hoj and Kristin.  And now Wade and Lindz. [Note: Hern and Coll are getting married in 3 months, but I'll be studying medicine on an island and won't be able to make it back.]

As several friends made the observation that  they did not know when they would see me next, a stunning reality began to percolate in my brain and culminated in my “a-ha” moment on the dance floor.

No longer can I associate Cincinnati with losing and misery. No longer can I think of it as a boring example of Midwest life. No longer can I return once a year to see another friend get married and revel in old friendships renewed, starting up again where we had left off a year earlier, and eagerly looking forward to the next awesome occasion to celebrate.

Certainly, there will be more occasions to celebrate, as families are started and expanded upon, job promotions are achieved and companies are started, and maybe there will even be a Bengals Super Bowl party.

But I most likely won’t be there for those celebrations. I’ll be busy studying for a Pathology exam, reviewing flashcards on Psychopharmacology, or working late hours into the nite during clinical rotations or as a Resident. It would have been a comfortable excuse before that moment at Wade and Lindz wedding at Paul Brown stadium.

I might still have to use those excuses for some time as I begin the next portion of my life as a medical student, but I will truly miss those experiences. At that moment, Cincinnati was no longer the home of the Reds and the Bengals or a stifling example of the Midwest. It is the home of my friends, people with whom I created relationships with over a decade ago. So I can no longer use such a myopic view to cast opinions of Cincy. It is a bit disappointing in retrospect that I held such an idiotic and sophmoric opinion for such a long time, but it is definitely true: hindsight is 20/20.

Now I don’t have to “find a reason” to visit Cincinnati. Some of my best friends in the world are there. What other reason should I need?

I don’t have the opportunity to wait until another friend gets married. There won’t be a “Save the Date: Hoj’s Big Promotion Party 2011” coming in the mail. I won’t be getting a “Gib and K-T made their 1^stMillion Dance-Party Extravaganza” or “Fat and Jo’s Triumphant Cincinnati Return House Warming”. Those aren’t the type of things my friends are going to be sending invitations for. Those events will occur, but when you have a close group of friends like mine, who have grown up together, been each others best friends for the last 11 years or longer, and see each other fairly regularly, those events won’t need much pre-planning. They will just happen. And I probably won’t be there.

No, don’t be thinking all crazy and believe that I’m seriously considering moving to Cincinnati any time soon. That thought has not entered my mind.  It is simply that my high-horse finally died and I can see my friends from Cincinnati for who they really are: a group of special people who happen to be fortunate enough to grow up together, involve other random people in their lives (thanks Gib!), and now have the wonderful opportunity to continue on into adulthood and parenthood as life-long friends.

I don’t think there are too many things more special than that. Except for maybe a Bengals Super Bowl victory. But I won’t be holding my breath on that one. Instead, I’ll make it a point to visit a great group of friends in the years to come, most of whom happen to live in Cincinnati.

I had promised myself and my sister (who it seems was the one consistent person to read this blog), that I would post a few updates on a semi-regular basis. Instead, when I buckled down and started preparing for our first major exam, I found myself entering into an unholy cycle of sleep, gym, school, more studying, eating dinner on an only occasional basis, more studying and repeating the same thing the next day.

I was actually quite comfortable in this routine, as it is pretty much what I had envisioned for myself upon entering medical school. Thankfully, some of my friends who are currently in or have completed medical school had also prepared me for this reality with their frequent inability to stay in touch, missed phone calls, unread e-mails and the like. It’s nothing to take personally, it’s simply that medical school turns you into an anti-social hermit on many levels, unless you plan on repeating a year (not recommended).

You might think that all I needed to do was simply type in a few random comments, post them, and wait for the rave reviews to roll in… or at least for people to have some idea as to my continued experience in Miami. You are probably right. I could have squeezed five minutes a day into my schedule to post those comments. Alas, I also neglected catching up on “Lost”, watching random DVD’s, bathing, reading for leisure, playing basketball on a weekly basis, dating, drinking, visiting the grocery store on a daily basis, and keeping up on current events by visiting CNN.com [Note: I did not actually stop bathing, I threw that in for effect].

However, I did maintain some communication with the outside world: Facebook. Most likely, if you are reading this, you have been well acquainted with my smarmy comments and random jibber jabber that I’ve managed to post on a frequent basis. So rather than posting four or five well-thought out comments on a semi-daily basis, I simply posted off-the-cuff thoughts that could have been mistaken for drunken cries for help or attempts to show that the ‘fabulousness’ of Miami had not completely overtaken my psyche. I’m not sure if it worked, but it was my half-hearted effort to maintain some connection to the outside world.

In summary, I apologize if I offended your sense of the world by neglecting this blog in exchange for a Facebook update, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do…

In an effort to make it up to you, I’ll try to give you a quick synopsis on the last three months. You might have to piece some of this together on your own, as it might be difficult to keep things in chronological order, but I hope you understand:

I finished my semester on Friday at 12:30 after taking a mind-numbing, six subject cumulative exam that lasted 4.5 hours. My school’s effort to churn out productive and successful physicians is to test us in manner similar to all of the professional exams that we will encounter during the rest of our career, rather than in individual subjects or body systems. So while they are tortuous now, these exams will prepare us well for everything else we will encounter.  Over the course of the semester, I had managed to stay true to my promise of not drinking during school (no, not like boozing out of a flask during Physiology, but having no alcohol whatsoever), so immediately after the final exam I grabbed an El Presidente from the gift shop at the hotel at which we took our exam and downed it in 5 minutes. Either that particular bottle of El Presidente was 20% alcohol, or my tolerance has completely bottomed out. [Note: I did have "a few drinks" at my friend Scott's wedding in June, but that was a pre-planned detour, which I will document shortly.]

In the next few days, I’ll find out my performance on the final and the semester overall. If I passed, I’ll be leaving for Dominica on September 1 and starting school on September 7. If I failed, I’ll be re-evaluating my life while making coffee at a bodega on South Beach. Please keep you thoughts in line with the former.

While studying like I’ve never studied before, I did manage to have some noteworthy experiences, such as my 29th birthday, several kayaking excursions, numerous new additions and subtractions from the UN Medical House, and seeing The Hangover with some classmates. That’s pretty much the extent of my life’s excitement over the past few months. My birthday is a good example of how things went…

I’m not a big birthday person. I think it’s great when people have birthday parties, if they aren’t throwing it for themselves, but otherwise they are just a great excuse to have a social gathering. My birthday plans did not need to include anyone else, but the idea of kayaking and having a nice, relaxing dinner, intrigued several other people, so I told them the time I planned on kayaking and the time and place for dinner.

Unfortunately, several people were super-late for kayaking because a few classmates don’t understand the concept of time. And then the guy who insisted on driving left five people at the beach when he left without telling us. However, the kayaking was great (including Lwanga’s insistence that we race, even though he’d never kayaked before) but the inconsiderateness of leaving people at the beach without transportation was palpable because it meant several people were unable to make dinner and those who did were running late. The dinner was almost saved by some of the UN crew bringing me a birthday cake, but paying $100 for my own dinner and the charges that some people neglected to pay me managed to spoil that too… but then I went out to a club on South Beach with some friends… and ended up being  the Designated Driver. I guess it can’t be considered a complete loss if you stay out until 4AM on your birthday in Miami. At least I didn’t get pulled over by the police driving home…

The rest of my experience in medical school in Miami can probably be best summarized in one of the most hackneyed writing tools of all time… Ean’s Top 10 Miami Moments (outside of those already mentioned).

In no particular order:

1) “Ean, you know you just said hi to a guy walking down the street in a bathrobe and slippers?” – said by Tara, after I gave a head nod and a big ‘howdy’ to a guy wearing a bathrobe and slippers walking down the street.

2) A beautiful Brazilian doctor moved into the UN Medical House and her sing-songy voice was like heaven… she moved out after two days. Son of a…

3) Joe and Pranay throwing a surprise birthday party for Darshin at school that included balloons with Hannah Montana and Disney fairies attached to his chair.

4) Having dinner with Phil, Tara, Tisha, Alexander, Ravirajand Lwanga at the oldest bar in Miami. It was also kickball night at the bar. Apparently you have to wear really tight t-shirts, really short shorts, and knee-high socks if you are a female Kickball player. Thankfully, the male Kickball players wear different attire.

5) Becoming known as Tara’s “partner-in-crime” by the Starbucks barista near school.

6) Having Dr. Coutinho make the following comment in front of the entire class about me right before Histology: “Come on now Ean, you have a long walk back to your seat… maybe we should roll out the red carpet for you next time?” I thought it was hilarious. Maybe you had to be there.

7) Randomly meeting up with my classmate Tara at the tail end of her dinner with a friend who also went to Standford… only to find that my heart skipped about five consecutive beats when I saw her… and she is a classmate of my friend Chris at UMiami. Maybe I’ll be giving an update on this at some point…

Having heart to heart conversations with Aytekin and Samuel out in front of the house on balmy May nights… I never thought I’d meet a Turkish trauma surgeon or a soon-to-be Ecuadorean neurosurgeon, but life is full of wonderful surprises.

9) Going to Scott and Emily’s wedding in Kansas City… surprising Scott by making the rehearsal… seeing the look on his face when he picked me up on his wedding day and I was wearing a Ghostbusters t-shirts… and drinking until 3AM the night of his wedding despite not having had any alcohol for 2.5 months.

10) Being called a “lumberjack” by one of the trainers at my gym because I was growing my “All-Subject Cumulative Exams Suck” beard. I took it as a compliment. There really aren’t enough lumberjacks in Miami.

There are certainly a few other high points, not too many low points, and mostly the status quo, but those 10 things are a good variety of my experiences over the last two and half months since my last update.

Now I have six weeks to travel the country and visit with various friends and family and enjoy the nice sandy beaches of Miami while I am still state-side. I promise to do my best to write some more as ideas come to me or to simply chronicle the randomness of my life. Either way, enjoy it while you can… more medical school awaits.

April 26:

1) Went and saw two movies on Friday night with some other members of the United Nations at UMiami: The Examined Life and Tokyo! The former was absolutely brilliant and the latter was really creative and interesting. Except for the creepy guy in the middle part of the film. He made me want to run out of the theater.

2) I joined a gym in Miami, finally. I had put this off because I didn’t know how it would fit into my busy schedule. But my schedule hasn’t really been that busy. So I made the excuse that there wasn’t a gym in my neighborhood. And then I googled “gyms in Miami 33129″ and found one 1/2 mile away. This gym is ultra-glitzy and “fabulous”; thank god the membership guy waived the sign-up fee and decreased the monthly membership substantially, because I couldn’t afford this place unless I decided not to eat one week a month. I guess the “poor, medical student” tugged at his heart strings.

3) The Celtics managed to lose to the Bulls in Double OT today. I think Doc Rivers is a horrible coach. There was no reason to have Tony Allen in the game.

4) I went to my new gym first thing this morning (gotta get my money’s worth) and witnessed the most physically fit woman I’ve ever seen in person. I now have a place to be at 9AM on Sunday mornings.

5) My Microbio/Immuno quiz on Friday didn’t even see me coming. I laughed at it. My Physio quiz fought back a bit, but I still managed to beat it to a pulp. I think my quiz  preparation is becoming finely tuned.

That’s all for now… check past days below and past weeks here…

April 23:

1) The enzyme Phosphofructokinase-1 converts Fructose-6 Phosphate to Fructose-1, 6-Bisphosphate, not Fructose-1, 6 Bisphosphate to Glyceraldehyde-3 Phosphate. Damn Glycolysis.

2) We have a rat infestation at the United Nations Medical House. Four dead rats in four days [dead because they were caught in traps]. It’s probably not a good thing that when I talked to my landlord about this on the phone that she couldn’t remember who I am. She has suggested using some sort of electrical device to drive them away from the house… Lord help us all.

3) My housemate Prabu managed to “trick” our new super-cute Japanese housemate into identifying herself as single. Good work Prabu! It’s too bad that Prabu is leaving next week. I wonder who will have to take advantage of this new information…

4) I haven’t been to the grocery store in two days. I am going into withdrawal.

That’s all for now… check past days below and past weeks here…

April 21:

1) My foreign housemates are now addicted to the NBA playoffs!!! Thanks Celtics.

2) I couldn’t play basketball this weekend because I have two huge blisters, one on each foot. Damn feet. It’s too bad, I was really looking forward to playing with the Bloods again.

3) My topical Vitamin D infusion is really coming along. SPF 16 is my umbrella here in Miami.

4) I have decided to go visit Dominica after classes end in mid July. I have six weeks to kill before classes start in September, so it’s probably not a bad idea to actually go check out where I will be in school.

April 18:

1) I am consistently disappointed in the behavior of Miamians. I’m wondering when some of these people will get the memo that other people are living on this planet. [Some guy literally stepped in front of me in line at the grocery store, even though it was quite obvious that I was in line in front of him. I would have said something, but he was fat and with wife and kid in tow. His family was probably suffering enough already from dealing with him.]

2) Watched “21” with my housemate. It made me nostalgic for my days in Boston/Cambridge (two weeks ago). I was a bit disappointed that it was a modernized version of a true story, but I guess that’s Hollywood.

3) I walked from my house to Key Biscayne. It was roughly a three-mile walk in the hot sun. But I’m down with that. Key Biscayne in three words: Thongs, Gold Teeth, Beer. Sign me up!

4) One of our neighbors was having a red carpet party last night; their house and the neighboring streets were covered in high-end automobiles. I’ve never seen more BMW’s in my life. Not even at the BMW dealership. Unfortunately, our invitation must have been lost in the mail, as we weren’t on the guest list.

That’s all for now… check past days below and past weeks here…

April 17:

1) Played bball yesterday with some guys wearing black bandannas, khaki shorts, and sunglasses. I’m pretty sure they were gang-bangers. I’m not sure why they wanted me to play with them, but they definitely go by the “no blood, no foul, and if there is blood, there is still no foul” rules. Thankfully, they only drew blood once.

2) First celebrity sighting in Miami: Cuttino Mobley @ the Brickell Starbucks.

3) We had an impromptu meeting of the United Nations Medical Staff last night. We discussed the global economy, warfare, Obama’s election, and the declining birthrate in the educated classes. Of course, mojitos and Miller Lites were being drank during all serious discussions.

4). Played bball with some of my classmates again. Either the rims are really tight in Miami, I need reconstructive knee surgery, my shot has gone to hell, I have gotten too strong in my upper body and am overcompensating, I just suck, or all of the above… because I couldn’t hit a shot to save my life. And lord knows I don’t have the handles to take anyone off the dribble. Basically, I have become a garbage basketball player before the age of 30. Time to take up bocce ball.

5. I blasted two of my first three quizzes. BioChem and Physiology should really try to step it up next time. On the other hand, Microbiology threw some wicked heat and a nasty curve… I was never too fond of the curve balls. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready next time.

April 15:

1) So far, this gets my vote for quote of the year: “I’ve never had a patient come in and complain about their Kreb’s cycle or their lack of ATP.” [said by Dr. Dundr, our Clinical Medicine professor]

2) My Indian roommate, Prabu, was convinced I had disappeared into the vastness of Miami because he had not seen me in two days. I reminded him that I am in medical school. He quickly remembered his own medical school experience in India, where his medical school had nearly 20,000 students!

3) I attended the Miami v. FAU baseball game last night. In a complete lack of intelligence, the FAU manager decided to leave a runner in the game who had just been beaned in the head by a throw from the pitcher to third base, with FAU trailing 3-1 in the top of the ninth, no outs, and the bases loaded.  The next pitch was a double play, 7-2. [For those scoring at home, the next batter flew out to left field and that runner, who had just been beaned in the head, was thrown out easily at home plate after tagging up on the fly ball.] The next batter struck out. Game over.

4) I have a bad feeling about some of my classmates’ ability to make it as physicians. One guy actually interrupted our Clinical Med professor to tell him he had gone over the allotted time.  To which our professor, replied, “Oh, it’s lunch time. Am I intruding on your lunch?” Did I mention that I like our Clinical Med professor?

April 13:

1) Didn’t sleep last night. But when I did, I had incredible dreams… If this is what medical school is going to be like, I will be delirious within two months.

2) My B-Chem professor is a little anal retentive. And OCD. And neurotic. Should be an enjoyable semester.

3) While shooting baskets yesterday, I had a strong inclination to throw my basketball at the head of the small child riding his Razor Scooter through the court… continuously. I should not go into pediatrics.

4) I went grocery shopping today. I have decided that maybe the women are there for the same reason I am… I will investigate this more thoroughly next time.

5) Chris Miller came over for dinner. I cooked, he ate, and ate, and ate. The man has a hollow wooden leg.

April 11:

1. The heat in Miami is not conducive to playing basketball in the sun. Note taken.

2. Went to South Beach today. Actually wasn’t that impressed by the “places to see.” I was impressed by the “things to see.”

3. Biochemistry may be the death of me. Who cares about the 5th Reaction in the Tricarboxylic Acid cycle? Hopefully not my professor.

4. Miami University, my alma mater, managed to blow a 2-goal lead with two minutes to go in the National Championship game. And then managed to play like timid mouse in the third period. In sports psychology analysis, they played “not to lose, rather than to win.”

5. I relived my grillmaster days at a cookout last night. It made me think of the summer after undergrad when we spent a week at “the lake.” That was insane.

That’s all for now… (see past days below)

April 9:

1) Another beautiful day in Miami. I am still missing Boston/Cambridge though.

2) I played bball with my Stanford friend today. We beat some ass… though our competition was local drug dealers and pot smokers… still getting used to Miami.

3) Some of my classmates are not taking this whole medical school thing seriously. Seriously?

4) I heard Miami U made the NCAA Hockey finals. GO MIAMI! [Mother Miami, that is...]

5) No school tomorrow. Good Friday. Sweet. But don’t worry, I’ll just get ahead on my studying

April 7:

1) The first day of actual class. It was good. Our program director teaches Histology and he repeatedly called on and called out people who weren’t paying attention. But in a good natured way

2) I didn’t sleep last night because Samantha called at 10:30P. To ask if I had left her mail out for her. And then she sheepishly asked if I was even still in town. Enough said.

3) I have decided to stop by the grocery store in my neighborhood every day on my way home. The scenery is well  worth it. [I never thought I would feel this way about the grocery store.]

4) The weather was absolutely beautiful today. I think I’m in love with Miami. We’ll see if I still feel that way when June comes…

April 6:

1. I have located my box of books. The USPS tried to deliver it… once. My buddy Chris is going to pick it up and drop it off. Thanks Chris.

2. My roommate Samuel has traveled the world and wants to be a neurosurgeon. So far, he’s my best friend at the United Nations.

3. Today was orientation at school. Their system for getting people registered was highly flawed. But I got to go in the first hour, so I’m not still sitting there like some of my classmates.

4. One of my classmates played women’s college basketball. At Stanford. They played in three Final Fours when she was there. I think she could take me off the dribble.

5. I went to a Miami-FSU baseball game yesterday. It was an absolute slugfest… final score of 14-7. Miami had a pitcher with the last name of Wulf. The crowd howled when he recorded a strikeout.

6. I received my largest check ever today. Thank you, financial aid. It’s a good thing I don’t have a penchant for booze and hookers…

April 5:

1) I met two more members of the United Nations: Eiken (Turkey) and Noriyami (Japan)

2) My self-given Spanish name is Esteban.

3) I went to a party last night. A hot Ecuadorean woman was berating me b/c I don’t understand what it’s like to be an attractive woman. She’s right.

4) My roommate Barabel’s family has a hospital in India. Yeah, like their own. I, too, will someday have my own hospital. In India.

April 4:

What I have learned so far during my first 24 hours in Miami…

1) It is hot here. I like this.

2) Global warming is welcome in Miami. Mini-skirts and halter tops are in full effect. I think it was raining and 40 in Boston yesterday.

3) I live in a medical “United Nations” house. Countries represented: US (me), Japan (Nomi), Uganda (Isaac), India (Barabel), Argentina (Carlos), Colombia (Florencia), Venezuela (Andres), Ecuador (Samuel), Korea (Linda)…

4) I need to work on my Spanish. Big time.

5) My box of medical textbooks and DVD’s and pictures with sentimental value has not shown up in Miami. I hate the USPS.

When you decide to leave a place you’ve called home for almost five years, even when it is for bigger and better things, you begin to think about all of those things you never got around to doing.

For the past year, I’ve known with 95% certainty that I wouldn’t be in Cambridge/Boston past this year. It was highly unlikely after I got a “C” in Molecular Biology that I would be able to get into one of the medical schools in Boston. This suspicion was confirmed and reiterated when I spoke to the advisor at Harvard about what I should do. He was all too quick to suggest that I should pack it in, say sayanora to my dream of becoming a physician, and move on with my life.

He didn’t bother to talk to me about osteopathic programs or one of the reputable schools outside of the US. He simply looked me in the eye and said, “Medical schools are looking for people just like you, but with better grades.” Of course, this was the same sadistic s.o.b. who had taught the Molecular Biology class and then proclaimed at the beginning of the next semester that those still sitting in the lecture hall were the ones who had “survived”.

So when I heard him tell me to pack it in, I said to him, “I’m not a quitter. And if I did quit now, everything I ever said to the people I used to work with would be a fraud.” I’m sure those words didn’t change his mind about my candidacy for medical school, but it sure as hell felt good.

As it turns out, despite getting an acceptable score on the MCAT, I didn’t get a sniff from the schools in Boston, or any other US institution for that matter. But anyone who knows me knows that I always have a Plan “B”. I had conducted research and spoken to individuals who have received their medical education outside the US. While some serious barriers exist for individuals who receive their education in non-US curriculum schools, there are only rudimentary barriers for those students whose school follows a US curriculum and have been approved by US governing bodies.

Plan “B” kicked into effect when I received admittance to Ross University, a well-respected and US medical system integrated school, located on the island of Dominica. In preparation though, I’m moving to Miami, FL in four weeks to take some additional introductory medical courses before starting at Ross in September. [Karmic Note: The only person I will know when I go to Miami is the person who hired me to come to Cambridge nearly five years ago and is now studying at the University of Miami.] And so, it is with much excitement, trepidation, anxiety, and hope that I will be moving from a place I have grown to love to a place wrought with uncertainty and challenges unlike any I have ever faced.

The reality of my impending departure made me think about the things I have wanted to do while in Boston, but for one reason or another, haven’t. Whatever the reason, nothing I have wanted to do is particularly daring. Rather, it is a bunch of mundane things. My list doesn’t include bungee-jumping from “The Pru”, going out in drag on Boylston Street on a Saturday night, streaking through Harvard Square with a group of inebriated seniors, or injecting myself with illicit substances I’ve managed to steal from the hospital where I work.

Instead, the list includes things like attending an MIT basketball game, taking a wacky cross-country trip, listening in on a lecture by a genius, seeing Harvard play Cornell in a clash of Ivy League titans, and going to a concert at The Middle East Upstairs. Besides the cross-country trip, none of those is particularly exciting or even really out of the ordinary considering I live in Cambridge, MA. But it is the simple fact that I haven’t done them before that lends them some strange, innate excitement..

I managed to complete some of these things in one fell swoop over a recent weekend and they definitely created their own excitement: MIT won its first-round NEWMAC tournament game  on its way to winning the NEWMAC and now heads to their first-ever NCAA tournament… I am writing this article as I take an Amtrak train from Boston to Toledo for a 21-hour trip… Harvard basketball beat Cornell on Senior Night and I didn’t feel the need to boo Tommy Amaker… and I witnessed one of the most brilliant women of the 21st century, Pardis Sabeti, talk about genomics and evolution…

There are other memories that will be created before I leave Boston [and some that I hope will happen, but that probably won't (all of which are too graphic to print)].  Those that are already scheduled include Marv and Lissa’s trip to Boston for dinner on the 19th, one last trip to visit NYC on the 20th, the LIVE concert at The House of Blues on the 27th with BigWillyStyle, and March Madness at TD Banknorth Garden on the 28th with Juice. I’m sure other random things will crop up here and there that will put a twinkle in my eye and warmth in my heart… and I’m not even talking about shots of Jack on a Saturday night.

It’s the unplanned things that catch us off guard and sear a lasting memory into our brains. When we are too prepared, we tend to miss out on the little details that give our lives meaning.  So while I am embracing my final few weeks in the wintry northeast by doing things I haven’t done before, I am also looking forward to the unexpected… those will be the things that determine where I truly go from here and what I will have to enjoy when I return…

[Note: MIT won it's first ever NCAA tournament game on Friday night, but succumbed to a relentless attack on Saturday that dashed their championship dreams.]

While I waited for his plane to land, I hung out at the baggage claim with the security guards and watched inane YouTube videos on my cell phone. When the baggage started rumbling out onto the conveyor belt, my new roomie stumbled out into the unsecured baggage area. To say that my eyes were blasted wide open upon seeing him is an understatement.

Clad in black cowboy boots, a pair of Wrangler jeans, a crisp white t-shirt, and a Penrose drain collecting pus in a bag attached to his right hip, I immediately wondered what I had gotten myself into. If I didn’t share a significant part of my DNA with this jokester, I would have slowly backed my way out of the baggage area, hailed a cab, and hoped that he had forgotten the address to my house. [Note: He's been to my house for dinner and to do laundry on occasion, so the likelihood that he wouldn't have been able to find the place is somewhere between slim and none.]

Instead of turning around and looking for the nearest exit, I quickly lept up from my seat, and proceeded to meet him at the baggage conveyor. I immediately made a smart-ass comment about the bag of pus protruding from underneath his white t-shirt, to which he replied with an equally smart-ass comment. Ah, brotherly love.

Yep, my new roommate is my younger brother, Will. Dumb people think he’s older than me because he’s taller, but that’s actually not the case (when you consider the miracle of genetics and human evolution, it’s not uncommon at all, but most people didn’t pay attention in their high school biology class). After returning from schooling in the Far East and some recuperation in Kansas from a fistulated colon, my brother decided to fill the vacancy in my house that was created by a love affair gone south. So rather than playing house with a beautiful woman, I was staring at my younger brother’s Penrose drain and wondering what sort of “bromance” might ensue. (Apparently there is some show called Bromance on MTV, but I’ve never seen it, I swear! I’ve only heard the word… and I thought it was a funny way of describing of my brother’s entrance into my home life.)

My brother and I collected his two bags, weighing over 100 pounds combined, and headed out of Logan to catch the shuttle back to the T. Unfortunately, carrying a bag weighing over 50 pounds was more strenuous than I had expected, so I suggested grabbing a cab instead. Flashing a wad of crisp Grants, my brother agreed to pay for the cab fare back to Cambridge.

After dropping off his things at the house, we strolled over to the local pub to get some dinner. Upon finding a table, and against the background of horrific karaoke singing, we were approached by two scantily clad bar maidens carrying around complimentary shots of “lemonade” and “coke” [watered down shots of some alcohol]. The one with the tray first asked my brother if he wanted one, to which he replied, “My parole officer says I shouldn’t drink.” The look on her face was priceless. I don’t think she would have been more surprised if Bigfoot had come walking out of the bathroom wearing corduroy overalls.

I countered his witty remark with the suggestion that she just give me both. But I recanted that request and took only one. The two maidens, adorned in Celtic green one-piece skirts, were more than happy to scurry away from our table. I chuckled at my brother’s comment as they walked away. Consider the bromance having begun.

We returned home with our stomachs full and my alcohol tolerance having been met after only one beer (and that watered down shot). As I mentioned in my earlier post I Got a Bed, I had secured a bed by helping my friends Gabe and Sona with Sona’s move. At the time, Gabe and I had left the box spring in the living room because it was going to be a bitch getting it up the stairs and we were near starving. So that is where Will and I found it that night, leaning up against the living room wall, beckoning to be reunited with the mattress upstairs. Unfortunately, we couldn’t manage to cajole it through the already existing crevice in the narrow stairway, so my brother had to settle for the jumbo-size, double-thick, air mattress that I had inflated in his room. At least for that evening. [Note: The air mattress is his; he left it with me when he traveled to Beijing, so he was really sleeping on his own bed.]

Being that school didn’t begin for my brother until the following Monday, I returned home from work on Friday evening to find him hanging out in front of the TV. In my seat. Having lived by myself for the previous 2.5 months, I found this intrusion into my space alarming. [Note: The TV is his; so he was probably just having flash backs to his old apartment.] I promptly seated myself to his left and laid down the law: when the captain is home, he sits in the captain’s chair. My brother raised an eyebrow, my charming analogy completely going over his head. I decided not to push him out of my seat, as he would have likely landed on his drain and I didn’t want to be responsible for performing emergency surgery. Or at the very least, surgically removing his fist from my face.

My brother and I last lived together seven years ago, the summer before my senior year of college. He had just completed his freshman year at Miami University and didn’t want to go home for the summer. He had heard the stories of debauchery of my previous summer in Oxford and wanted to create some memories of his own. In an act of self-sacrifice, I offered to share my 12′ x 12′ room in my apartment shared with 3 other roommates with him for the summer. What a debacle.

I lofted my bed so that he could have some space to sleep beneath it. I cleared a corner of my room so that he could set up a desk for his computer. I worked two jobs that summer; he worked 20 hours a week. When I left in the morning, he was there sleeping. When I came home from my first job in the middle of the afternoon, he was there computing.  When I came home from my second job in the late evening, he was there eating/sleeping/computing or some combination thereof. My personal space was eliminated, my sanity challenged, and brotherly love was transformed into pure loathing.

It was through this lens that I began to consider the possibility that, as my brother sat in “my chair”, I had made the same mistake all over again. Only this time, I imagined I would wake up in the morning wanting to take a shower, but he’d be using up all the hot water. Or I’d come home from work and he’d be half-way through the movie I wanted to watch that night. Or I would be awoken early on a Saturday morning because he was vacuuming the stairs. None of these possibilities were particularly enticing, but I decided I could avoid them by not pushing him out of the chair and instead pointing out to him that the “co-pilot” seat had just as good of a view of the TV.

With disaster narrowly averted in the first 24 hours, our roommate relationship took the fork in the road that directed us towards a positive experience. Over the last two weeks, we have managed to co-exist in a near stress-free environment. Of course, I’ve had to take on the big brother role a few times (let him learn from his own mistakes when applicable) so that he doesn’t get too comfortable too quickly, including our first trip to the grocery store together. [Note: the grocery store is 2 miles on foot, so without a car for the last 2.5 months, I have gone through my own trial and error efforts in successfully transporting one weeks worth of food back to my house (2 hands = 2 bags).]

I figured he should go through his own trial and error period, so when he offered to bring his fashionable grocery cart that is all the rage in the big city, I let him know I wouldn’t need it. He took that to mean he wouldn’t need it either.  But he decided to buy two gallons of milk along with the rest of his groceries, brought one big bag rather than two, and therefore had to stop 10 times to readjust his grocery-carrying pose on the trip home. I didn’t stop once, except to make sure that on-coming traffic didn’t make road kill of me. Lesson learned? We’ll see.

On the whole though, it’s been a fairly fulfilling experience, and not just because he’s gone to Target twice to buy things I hadn’t bothered to replace when the ex moved out (toaster, dish-drying rack, silverware, paper towels, baking sheets, etc). [Note: After noticing that the only room that is fully furnished in the house is my bedroom, he offered up this gem: "Besides your room, it looks like someone is squatting in a vacant apartment." What can I say, I'm a minimalist (a.k.a. cheap).

Our bromance might be a little unconventional for the MTV crowd, as the pseudo-gay tension is obviously vacant, but with our genetic propensity to laugh at the same stupid people and lame jokes, our interest in cooking as a means of sustenance, and general approval of women dancing in night clubs, I think this could turn out to be the best roommate situation I've ever had...

Unless you consider living with guys named Juice, Rusty, and Wacky Matt to be better than living as an adult with your own brother. Obviously, I'm leaning towards the current situation, despite two years of college hi-jinks to compare it to, but that could change depending on the number of cold showers I take in the upcoming months, the number of times we go shopping together, or the first time he decides to do his laundry the night when I have run out of clean under-roos and have a hot date.

 [Note: None of these is likely to happen, so we should be in roommate bliss for the forseeable future, but keep an eye open for any updates that are entitled "Roommate Wanted".]