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As my four short years in college come to a close, I can't help but look back at my time at Penn and think of how lucky I've been.

The laid-back lifestyle I've enjoyed. The great friends I've made. The places I've visited. The adventures that I've had the (mis)fortune to take part in.

And I know it may sound cheesy and trite, but with apologies to the ski team and all of my other friends, when I look back at my years at Penn, what will probably pop into my mind first will be the times I've enjoyed as a result of being a part of The Daily Pennsylvanian.

I think it was the fall of my junior year that I fully realized how much this whole being-a-reporter-for-the-school-newspaper deal really meant to me.

Maybe it was in early October, when I was in the bleachers of Yankee Stadium for Game Two of the ALCS, sitting alongside my friends Jesse and Eric.

I was in seats I would not have been sitting in had I not written with these friends in DP sports. (Note to self: don't mention the insane price we paid for the scalped tickets. Go Red Sox!)

Maybe it was the following weekend, when I sat in the press box at Baker Field watching Penn football pummel host Columbia, eating and laughing with Rick, Will, Eric, Ben and Dave.

These road trips made me better friends with so many other writers and provided me with some truly crazy memories. (Note to self: Don't mention that I didn't cover the game, but merely ate the press-box food. Hi, Jules.)

Maybe it was that November, when I sat disbelieving in the Harvard Stadium press box with Jesse and my friend B.J. as Penn football completed an improbable last-minute Hail Mary.

This was just one of so many trips home to cover Penn teams at Harvard that I, as a Cambridge native, was lucky to enjoy. (Note to self: Don't mention how I abused DP privileges to get B.J., Wally, Dominic, Sarah, Rachel and others into games, press row or team buses.)

Maybe it was that December, when I was driving wide-eyed from Atlanta to Birmingham with Rick and Dave to watch Penn men's basketball nearly topple a top-10 Auburn squad.

I never though I would set foot in a Waffle House or the pit of Talladega Superspeedway. (Note to self: Don't tell Martha about the accents we heard or my fear of My Cousin Vinny.)

Or maybe it was any of the many other things that I've enjoyed here at the DP: Chicken Hutch, King Swami, front-row basketball tickets, a great meal courtesy of Rick's mother, goalposts, storming the court, driving at 4 a.m., the joke issues, Bags, Dunph and Seddon.

Honestly, after four years and hundreds of articles, there are too many good times to mention.

Friends and roommates have wondered why I spend so much time at the Pink Palace -- often at the expense of my relationships and my stellar 1.7 GPA (kidding). "But you're not even writing tonight!" they protest. To me, that doesn't matter.

My writing has improved dramatically -- as can be seen on My knowledge of geography has blossomed -- as bylines (and speeding tickets) from nine states can attest. I've met a ton of athletes whom I now call my friends. I have a new appreciation for a number of sports that I knew nothing about before I covered them.

And the free printing, copying, scanning, phone calls, office supplies and pizza at the DP have made life so much easier. (Note to all: I paid for these freebies by bringing an assortment of car bumpers, police sawhorses, huge Dartmouth banners and other sundries into the office during my "klepto" period).

But through this all, what strikes me as being the most valuable thing I have gained at the DP is the people I have met. Occasional misunderstandings aside ("car talk" and certain Hutch photos, notably), many of my closest friends are at the DP.

While I don't have room to mention everyone, special thanks go out to my editors:

To Scott and Jordan, for not killing me after my first article. To Kent, Josh and Mawk, for having faith in me. To Eric, Dan, Rick, Will and Jesse, for helping my writing to grow. To Jason, Dave, Jess and Kyle, for letting me finish in style. And to Sub, Ben, Jesse (again) and Mugs, for putting up with me as well.

But the most special thanks of all I reserve for the two people who got me into this whole mess (not my parents -- but hi Mom and Dad if you're reading this). These thanks go out to Josh and Laura, who dragged me down to the DP for an introductory meeting early freshman year.

Without you guys, I'd be lost.

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