from the desk of stinkpot

biological engineering here at mit is a giving department. their discoveries give sick people hope. their innovations give scientists new tools. and, most importantly, their annual retreat gives grad students an all-expenses-paid-trip somewhere in new england.

things i’m going to remember about this trip:

1) having a bizarre, alcohol- and chili burger-induced nightmare the first night of the retreat. unlike my usual dreams where i’m battling half king-kong / half steel-plated tyrannosaurus rex chimeras on islands owned by mr. burns, this one was really disturbing. my nightmare had a pretentious art school patina to it: all of the colors were shades of black, gray, and chrome. colin meloy, decemberists frontman and dreamboat, tragically sails into view, hunted by two shadowy figures who remind me of those russian spies in rocky & bullwinkle. a shot rings out and time slows down enough for me to make out a bullet leisurely ripping through poor colin’s chest. horrified, i actually moan loudly enough to wake myself up. “ooooaaaaggggh” – i make the sound of a tortoise deflating.

my labmate who’s sharing the hotel room with me stirs on the other bed. i fear the worst: that my moaning and thrashing has awoken him, who must now think i’ve just wrapped up some paroxysmal wet dream. great. i could try explaining myself in the morning: “so about my groans last night …” but, if i hadn’t had woken him up, broaching the subject would now force me to haltingly walk my labmate through my freaky-ass night terrors. explanation or no explanation, going to the lab would be awkward for the next couple of weeks. [funny how that later scenario bothered me, but i seem to have no problem describing my nightmare on this blog ...]

reasoning that opening my mouth had already gotten me into enough of a mess, i decided not to say anything.

2) taking a class IV geek pilgrimage to newick’s lobster shack, birthplace of newick notation. behold, the vatican of deep-frying devotees the world over. for god’s sake, they had deep-fried cheesecake on the dessert menu!

3) hearing my adviser explain just why exactly his running shorts were so short that myself and another running partner were given explicit instructions not to make him wait for us in the hotel lobby before our run (lest my adviser be seen by other faculty). “they were $5 at target – i couldn’t pass up a deal that good!” funny, that’s just what kim-jong said about those nuclear centrifuges. zing!!

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