This is a picture of me with my college roommates and best friends, Packy Taylor (left) and Matt Lucey (middle).  It’s not a particularly good picture, but I prefer to post the more awkward ones when talking about my friends.  I believe this was taken in Matt’s room in our apartment senior year.  It’s hard to tell what time it is because Matt is in bed and Pack and I have beers in hand.  Matt was never one to be in bed early, so I’m guessing it’s morning.  I miss college.  Also, notice the calendar on Matt’s wall.  At the time I probably made fun of him for it. “Nice calendar, nerd.”    Turns out the guys in college with calendars on their walls became successful investment bankers.  However I’m now wondering if the calendar was just decoration because the tennis racket definitely was. Anyway, this post is more about my buddy, Packy.  Quick story.  Late one night after closing the Avalanche Super Bar, Packy headed up the street to Real Chili for bowl of the good stuff.  Upon finishing he noticed an industrial sized box of Oyster crackers behind the counter.  Although a man of high morals and character, Packy had a weakness for Oyster crackers and enough liquid courage to do whatever it took (except pay the $3 dollars) to make the box his.   And when the apathetic cook turned his head that’s exactly what he did.  Packy snatched the oversized box of Oyster Crackers, tucked them into his chest and bolted toward the door.  The cook reluctantly gave chase, but once outside, what he saw changed his mind.  Packy was on the sidewalk with a mouth full of blood having tripped flat on his face on the concrete. The cook, satisfied with the karmic justice, returned inside without the box. Despite two broken front teeth and a whole lotta pride, Packy got his Oyster Crackers.  It’s a funny story that he tells much better than I.  Hopefully he’ll tell this story to his sons, Flynn and Cameron, the second of whom he just welcomed into the world last night.  Congrats Packy and Kylie!