I think it was somewhere around the third beer of the evening when I realized how stupid I'd been. I always said that Chicago wasn't my kind of town, and this weekend, I was forced to drink - er, eat - my words.

I graduated from grad school in August of '05. Now, more than two years later, I finally took a trip back to Northwestern. It wasn't that I didn't want to visit; on the contrary, I was so excited about visiting that I would actually start crying. My dream of Northwestern/Evanston/Chicago/college in general was just too perfect to puncture with reality. Clint and I tried to figure out if I missed Northwestern itself, the city of Evanston itself, or the idea of being in college. After visiting, we finally decided: it was all three.

Jumping out of bed early Saturday morning, we headed out to get an everything bagel and a Chai at Einstein Bros (naturally), then I wanted to see, well, everything I hadn't seen in so long. What is truly strange is how familiar the entire campus felt. There's the Rock, looking at bedraggled as ever. TI (Theatre and Interpretation Center) still sports the same sawdust-and-paint smell. Even our rock (the one on the lakefill Clint painted to propose) was still extant and looking none the worse for wear. In this particular room, I washed the costumes of the entire cast of Grease till midnight every night. In this hundred-year-old building, I had a night class during which I could see the sun set over Evanston. This is the place I'd always pick up the Daily on my way to class. This is the theatre in which I first performed in acting class and where I met Heather Headley and John Cameron Mitchell. No other place on earth holds such ripe memories around every corner. Carefree memories. Laugh-out-loud memories. Stir-fry-with-tofu-and-garlic-chili-sauce memories I can still taste. If I could, I would transport myself back to college in a second. No question about it.

Late afternoon, we lined up several meet-and-greets with old friends around Chicago. First, we met Nicole, whom we haven't seen in almost two years, and had a drink outside while catching up. Crazy how when you share enough history, you can just start a conversation and go forward from wherever you are. Next was Madhu, and we were equally impressed at the ease of conversation here. Meanwhile, I had one eye on our surroundings. A warm breeze lifted a fall scent toward us, and the city moved a leisurely, late-afternoon pace. Personally, I never resonated with Chicago. Perhaps it was the closeness of the buildings to the streets or the tight fit between homes, but I always felt guarded there. This felt different. We were relaxed, and we were comfortable. After parting with Madhu, we headed to dinner to meet Clint's friend from home, Travis and his girlfriend Susie. They had reserved a table at a Lebanese restaurant, and we met two of their friends there also. As the waitress uncorked the wine they'd brought, I admired the city view through the open shutters. We sat right next to the huge window, and I could have reached out and touched the revelers making their way down the sidewalk. We ate and drank like kings, enjoyed the belly dancer, and partook of a hookah. After some more beers at a nearby pub, Clint and I were finally on the el train back to Evanston, feeling miles away - in more ways than one - from where we started.

We'll be back, and long before two years have passed.

Interesting postscript: Travis' girlfriend brought two friends to dinner who lived in Dallas, but farther north than we. Well, two days after we got back, we were walking to the grocery store in the West Village, and someone shouted "Clint!" from a car. It was them. Small, small world.