I even sang the third verse.
My lunch was scattered all over the floor, and The Harvard Crimson was, without knowing it, cheering at me through a Beatles song. I could stay pissed off, or I could laugh.
I went back to The Crime the next fall, kept quiet, sucked up, worked hard, and I got elected. I already told you the rest.
But even more important, I learned what to do when Harvard gives me crap, as it has for four years. So the next time I drop my metaphorical tray in the great Union Dining Hall that is life, at least I won't let myself feel like a tool.
And when you drop your tray and I start whistling and cheering, don't feel bad.
Advertisement
It's just that I went to Harvard.