We were somewhere around New Haven on the edge of the ocean when the drugs began to take hold. And by drugs, I mean sleep deprivation and caffeine. The road trip from Boston to Philadelphia to watch Harvard defend their title at Women’s Squash Nationals had only been underway for 3 hours, but we were already irrational. After a spontaneous phone call from our companions in a neon blue Toyota Rav 4, we peeled off at exit 59 to reunite with our Yale friends and eat a traditional New Haven dinner: tacos.
The plan was for the two cars—me in a blue Kia Forte named “Cassatt ” by Zipcar—to make it all the way to Philadelphia in one day. That was ambitious. We stopped for the night in Bronxville, NY, sleeping in a house with four cats who never seemed to fall asleep but climbed over our sleeping (and allergic) bodies in the middle of the night.
We woke up at 6:45am the next morning to continue down the Wild West of I-95, pulling into West Philadelphia at 9:45am and setting up camp in the local coffee shop to grind away econ p-sets. We wandered across the Schuylkill—the local Philly river with perhaps the highest amount of Fecal bacteria in the nation—to the Philadelphia Art Museum, ran gasping up the steps like Rocky (I lost to a D1 soccer player), and explored the “Macho Men” exhibit, where our art history major friend explained the meaning behind figurines in armor. Nerd.
Our next adventure? Walking to the University of Pennsylvania to watch Harvard absolutely demolish Princeton in the semi-finals, 6-3. They beat Columbia 6-3 in the first round, and in both matches First-Year Molly Stoltz ’26 took no prisoners. Head Coach Mike Way could be heard congratulating his players on their “reasonable win.” By this point, we were running on four hours of sleep, 3 hours in a car, and Dig In bowls for lunch. We journeyed to Madi’s Coffee, and deliriously sat down with our matcha lattes to “work.” This was dysfunction at its highest, as I just kept trying to start a conversation with the barista.
We returned home to the hideous, fluorescently lit Airbnb to order in Chinese food, eating it on the floor with no utensils. I took a stroll through the neighboring Powelton in the dark past the rambunctious Drexel Frat Row, and called my parents to find out that the neighborhood we were in was actually dangerous. Oops. I guess that’s why rates were so low.
The Airbnb was advertised as two beds and a pullout, so we naturally thought we could fit six people comfortably. The couch turned out to be a twin sized bed that barely fit the 6’2 man we had dragged along. So three people crammed into a full sized bed for a sleepover, up again at 8:30 the next morning to eat Jerusalem Bagels and see the Liberty Bell (we cried). For more inspiring content, visit the newly created official Instagram page: @usalibertybell.
Then it was back to Penn (go Quakers) to watch the finals: Harvard vs. Trinity. Though the mighty Crimson had lost to the Bantam (what a lame mascot) 7-2 earlier in the season, they pulled ahead with a close 5-4 win. In one of the deciding matches, Harvard’s 1-seed Marina Stefanoni ’24 came back from losing the first two games to clinch the match 3-2.
To fuel up for the 300 mile journey, we of course needed gas! I wanted to wait until we reached New Jersey because they pump it for you there—yay for archaic laws from the 40s—but 30 miles left in the tank forced us to fuel up in the City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection. This led to a tantrum on the floor of a Sunoco, because apparently you don’t know how to back up when you failed your drivers test two times and ultimately dent and scratch a Zipcar on a stationary pole. My bad. I felt like a monster reincarnation of Hunter S. Thompson—a Man on the Move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.
At least those Ec10a lectures had taught me to be risk averse and I had signed up for premium insurance. Hooray for David Laibson! The ride home was quiet and sullen as the entire Zach Bryan discography played through the speakers. I was on aux. We returned home to the Pennypacker parking lot, filed our lovely Zipcar incident report, and ran into the Women’s squash team leaving for their championship celebration. They beat us home because they flew, but missed the pure adventure of driving for hours straight.
Carly Brail ‘26 (carlybrail@college.harvard.edu) quit squash at age 12
Luke Wagner ‘26 (lukewagner@college.harvard.edu) did not quit.