Where the Future Finds Us
Clad in jeans, clogs and my ski team jacket , I walked into the Hop for breakfast, something that has become a routine over four years at Dartmouth. Suddenly I was feeling a little out of sorts. Something was amiss in my home away from home. The ID register was cheerfully emitting its two tone beeps and the assembly line of breakfast sandwiches was well under way, but there was something about the familiar faces there from the senior class. They were the same faces I had seen since our dirt smudged Freshman Trip days. However, there were at least six of them decked out from head to toe in stylish business suits.