A familiar face in a crowded lobby

There is a big conference going on here at the Holiday in Mart Plaza for members past and present of an all black fraternity. I was just walking through the lobby on my way back from class, wondering why none of these guys had brought their wives with them - or rather how all of them seemed to have gotten away with it. What was it that these women were avoiding? Why not make the trip to Chicago for the annual conference? Were they banned or uninterested?

Figuring I would not have the guts to pose the question to a stranger in the elevator, I glanced over at the sofa and there was Lloyd. We'd worked at the Scholl College of Podiatric Medicine together for 5 years in the early 1990s. I managed the bookstore; he worked in the purchasing department. I ordered the books; he delivered them from the basement up to the 7th floor.

"Lloyd?" I knew it was him. A moment of confusion as I gave him my name and he mind flashed back to Dearborn and Oak Street. The building is gone now. Condo's in it's place. Our fumbling boss is dead of a heart-attack. The students we served are making the big bucks, hopefully finally posting that last payment on their student loans. [The good thing about being a podiatrist, one of my student assistants told me, is that you keep decent hours and you very rarely lose a patient.]

Lloyd lives in Aurora now. He doesn't look much older, just a little thicker across the chest. He was, of course, able to answer my question. Turns out the wives are here. But they are all down on Michigan Avenue - where the real action is.