I’m not usually a spontaneous person. I’m a planner. I’m an organizer. I think logically and exhaust all the options before making a decision.

Which is why I was surprised to find myself in a beer-stenched green t-shirt with a shamrock necklace, on a train to New York to see the Villanova Wildcats play in the Big East Championship.

Let’s back up.

I woke up on Saturday March 14th with plans to go to the Philly Bar Crawl with my roomies. It was rainy, but that didn’t deter us from wearing obnoxious amounts of green and drinking a little too much beer. After a few hours, post hamburgers and chicken fingers, my roomies and I decided to head back to 30th. On our walk, we ran into my friend Tony. Naturally we all started to discuss our plans to watch the Big East Championship because what else really matters? Cats over everything.

“Wait, let’s go to New York.”

That was the idea that popped into Tony’s drunken head. That was the suggestion that I laughed off. That was the thought that became the most spontaneous decision I’ve ever made.

“No Tony, we can’t go. We’ll never make it.”

“NO. Kasia. Let’s go to New York. We can get on Amtrak at 30th. Oh my god, we’re going. We’re going to the Big East Championship, we have to go, it’s happening.”

“Tony, no we can’t, that’s ridiculous, it’s going to be so expensive…”

“SAY YES TO SENIOR YEAR. SAY YES.”

Before I knew it, Tony was calling Ed (his father) to ask if he would front our Amtrak tickets and I was googling any way to score last minute tickets to the game. In the rain, credit card clutched in my hand, I walked the streets of Philly and pressed “Purchase” for two tickets in section 110, row 22 for the Big East Championship.

And then somehow, our spontaneity turned into things effortlessly falling into place.

At 3:45pm, we picked up our Amtrak tickets and at 4:10pm we walked onto the train. We grabbed Starbucks (and water) on 35th street and bought a phone charger for my 12% alive phone at KMart. We waltzed into a restaurant full of Villanova fans (including a beloved Blue Key alum) and there was an outlet literally next to our table so I could bring my phone back to life and capture the night. Our tickets were waiting for us at will call and we ran into Will D. Cat, our mascot, and I got my first picture ever with him. Our seats were superb and we ended up next to a retired Villanova basketball player who played during the ’51-52 season and said “what a lovely ball game it was” at the end.

We won the championship. And I was there with one of my best friends.

I’m not usually as spontaneous person. But in the moment where responsible Kasia wanted to deny Tony’s crazy request, I thought about my future kids. And I wanted to be able to tell them a crazy story. So in that moment, I decided to truly live saying yes to senior year. And it was worth every single second.

Here’s to the best (drunken)/spontaneous decision of my life & witnessing the Cats cutting down that championship net.

Every year, my dad and his two best friends attend the Big East Tournament at Madison Square Garden. It’s a pretty big tradition for them. Every year, they  bring a fourth, and this time, I got lucky. Villanova was playing so I was thrilled to be there, but I didn’t know what to expect from hanging with three middle aged men. Well. I drank, I gambled, I swore; I truly became “one of the guys.” And learned some life lessons along the way.

1. Don’t drink coffee at a bar. This might seem obvious, but in my defense, I did not think we would be going to a bar at 11am. My dad and I got into Penn Station and considering I had been up since 5am, I decided to grab a Dunkin Donut’s iced coffee (because that’s normal to do in the morning). But once Kevin and Paul (my dad’s friends) showed up, we immediately went to this bar where they proceeded to order beers and chicken wings. And heckled me for drinking coffee.

2. Being attached to your phone isn’t a gen-Y only thing. You know how your parents are always yelling at us because we never put our phones down? Well my dad and his friends aren’t much better! We all were checking our phones throughout the day. The only difference? They were checking their emails while I refreshed Instagram…

3. Even 50-year-olds like getting sloshed at basketball games. Don’t worry everyone! The fun doesn’t end once you graduate college! Just because you’re over the age of 25 doesn’t mean that you can’t get pretty tipsy at sporting events. Let’s just say the beer was flowing from 11am to 8pm.

4. Sometimes grownups like to act like little kids. My dad and his friends loved photo bombing and taking funny pictures with strangers. For example, a Creighton fan next to us literally fell asleep during the Nova game (blasphemy). Of course my dad took a picture and they giggled about it for a good 10 minutes.

5. First time at the Garden? They’ll make sure you end up on the jumbo-tron. Can you say 5 minutes of fame? During the “Dance Cam” between games, the trio made sure the camera guy caught us doing the YMCA.  And they made damn well sure that I was in the center of the shot.

6. Don’t gamble with the big guns. Part of the Big East tradition is to play a numbers game which involves gambling every 10 minutes of the game. We watched 3 full games. You do the math. (Aka I lost a lot of money because they didn’t pity the poor college student. Womp).

7. Basketball will never be the same for me. Seeing the Cats play at the Garden is probably one of my favorite basketball memories from college. Being there with the man that spent years teaching me the game? Actually the best. Apparently I made a good impression with the guys because they said I could become part of the tradition, regardless of where I end up next year. #gocatz.

Here’s to having the best dad ever & loving basketball way too much.

{P.S. I met a nice Georgetown fan. I know, shocking. I met her in the bathroom and when she saw my shirt, she congratulated me on the win. Then she commented that we were probably on a crash collision course because she was a Georgetown fan… to which I responded, “Oh, okay.” But then she started ragging on Syracuse fans so she redeemed herself. A little. That’s the Big East for ya. I still hate Georgetown though.}

I didn’t have a stereotypical senior spring break to say the least. For one thing I was sober 97% of the time (gasp) and I was sick for 100% of the time.

I know. Sounds like it sucks.

The thing is, I could feel myself getting sick the week before. As soon as I felt that tickle in the back of my throat, I vowed to fight it off before I got to Punta Cana for my senior year spring break. But all my efforts failed. By the time I got to the airport, I had the worst sore throat in the world but the determination to kick my cold in the ass.

Before I got on my flight, I stole 30 salt packets from the Dunkin Donuts, praying it would last me a week (or less since I was also praying my sore throat would go away the next day). You can’t drink the tap water in punta (aka no warm water to gargle with) so I was stuck with cold bottled water which I tried to warm using the hairdryer in my hotel room (it worked as well as you think it would).

I took Advil around the clock, often stealing from my friends’ supply because mine ran out so quickly. I went through a pack of cough drops in about two days and even skipped going out with the group so I could get more sleep.

I texted my mom. We googled every home remedy there is. I tried them all, including some gross ways (I’ll spare you the details) and some unique ways (like eating marshmallows which were easier to find than I thought).

I prayed to Saint Blaise, the patron saint of throats (who knew there was a patron saint for throats? Danielle Sekerak, that’s who). I thought it would help. How could it not? I was doing all that I could.

Nope.

Every day I woke up with a sore throat and every night I went to bed with one. I couldn’t really drink because alcohol burned too much and I couldn’t really stay out late because I knew I needed sleep. With all these factors, you would think I would have had the worst spring break ever.

But I didn’t.

Here’s the thing about being sick: I was so miserable with my throat that I made a conscious effort to focus on the little things to cheer me up: the thin layer of sunscreen that you can never really wash off, the feeling of soft velvety sand between your toes, the warmth of the sun and the bathtub temperature of the clear, teal ocean.

I read lots of books. I took lots of naps by the pool. My group played lots of cards and made lots of jokes. Every day my friends would ask how I was feeling and every day they would be patient when I told them about my newest remedy I was trying. They made me laugh and forget that I felt sick, and they truly made my week a perfect 10. (Well, 11 if you include me :p)

So I was sick for my senior spring break. I still had a ton of fun, and I have the memories and tan (read: mild sunburn) lines to prove it. Oh and my cold went away as soon as I got back to PA. Go figure.

Here’s to the punta crew & hopefully never gargling with salt water again.

floppy hats & basic betches

When I say punta, you say cana