St. John's went as Army. The Navy went as Navy. Losers.
Melissa, Alicia and Chip pause while making the rounds.
Sarah and Damien
Spring is in the air, and Miss Scott knows it.
Mike gives the patented Galway Bay Guy stare.
Melissa looks like she's just done something scandalous. Perhaps she's eaten the last Popeye's biscuit.
I'd like to say that Lance only drinks the best champagne, but here we have evidence that would make a liar of me.
Ali delves into the fried chicken and gin.
Jen is positioned in such a way that she could almost really be watching the game.
Heather and Melissa confer.
It's nice to know that the owner of this Rolls can still parallel park it when necessary.
Aww, Ned's bowtie matches Lance's shirt.
Closs!
Sarah, Melissa and me
Some people would call drinking mint juleps before noon louche...
...but I prefer to think of it as embracing my southern heritage.
Ben helpfully slouched to stay in the frame with Josh and me.
Chester drinks amiably while Leo bemoans the state of the world.
The Telos of Prada
This man was clearly a Navy supporter. We may dress a little funny at SJC, but we don't wear khaki hotpant suits. Yuck.
Making plans for the evening.
I tried to take a nap on Jason's shoulder before heading back out.
It wasn't the gimlet; my camera just didn't deal well with the low light in Harry Browne's, the best bar in Annapolis.
Sarah (w/Josh) never leaves home without her purple Nalgene.