Gabs hold out of the century!

Lame (pronounced La-may) was right--the Beef Baron was a palace. As we drove towards the Grand Palm Hotel, past manicured lawns with spotlights, I knew I wasn't in Kansas, Botswana anymore. Two valets met us at the front drive and ushered us into the front lobby, which could have been mistaken for any Hilton. I leapt for joy when I saw multiple vases of quality fake flowers and heard background jazz music that didn't involve the more popular "nn-tsss, nn-tsss" beat you'd typically expect to hear in a drug den but instead hear in restaurants, gyms, offices, bathrooms, etc. Lame and I brought along buddy Dagan, an internal medicine attending working in Botswana for Harvard's new education program. He works in Molepolole, which is about an hour outside of Gabs, and he oversees anywhere from 1 to 6 Beth Israel residents visiting at a time. Dages takes great care of his residents, driving them to and from Molepolole and showing them the Gabs activities and nightlife (which basically means he goes to the yacht club a lot). I don't know what they'd do without him...or wait, I do, because while he was still attending in the US in January to keep his academic title, my phone inherited the blessing of residents calling with flat tires and bad direction sense.

Anyway, after many many meals of gristley, overcooked beef, this steak was perfect. When I stated that, Lame responded, "I know. I can't believe someone thought I was taking you to the Cattle Baron." Apparently, the Beef Baron should never be confused with the Cattle Baron, which is a "dingy place" in Lame's opinion.
The rest of bachelorette weekend was relaxing and fun. I taught a swim lesson to a Penn ID doc's 3-yr-old son, and despite the tummy ache and sob-fest at the end of the lesson, I don't think I failed completely. All I have to say is thank God for Finding Nemo and noodle horsies.

Dages, Lame, and Marlow have been doing a great job keeping me company, but I gotta say, "Sarah come back to meeeeeeeeee!!" I miss my roomie! What am I going to do when I have to let her go back to Baltimore!? I may have to schedule my electives next year based on this newfound co-dependency.

...If you've made it to the end of this blog, and you're asking yourself why an entire narrative was just devoted to a cheesy hotel, please refer to posts: "Bots loves its meat" and "Momfari Part:1" for some perspective.