High Table

I had the pleasure of being invited to the last high table dinner hosted by Oxford University. From what I had heard, you dine with the finest people, are served the finest three-course meal, and are under strict orders to behave in the finest manner. urk - no pressure for me who has just been throwing bread into a pond with no ducks and running around the playground with ten other 5 year-olds.

To give you a taste of what I ws anticipating, apparently at high table it's not polite to get up to go to the toilets! Before beginning your meal, a bowl of rose water is brougth around where you are expeceted to daintily wash yourself. Proper procedure is to talk to the person beside you. After you hear the gavel sound, you switch and converse with the person on your other side. I took cotillion, but this scenario was way out of my league!

I dressed in my most cocktail attire adding a shaw to present myself conservatively, paid my 1.80 pounds for the bus, and we headed on our way. We began our night on the lawn outside the school mingling and sipping our pims. I was told pims is gin and tea with orange and lemon slices. I wanted to throw back about four in efforts to cover up my insecurity of not being on top of my fancy-game, but I put on my poker face and socialized with the Oxford dons who didn't stay long, mind you! To my surprise, the crowd seemed casual.

Group by group, we made our way into the dining room. Picture the Harry Potter dining scenes. The long tables and the elders on an elevated stage. Photos of historic patrons like Queen Victoria and John Wesley lined the walls and watched me eat with their judging eyes. I soon felt comfortable, however, the bottomless wine was more than welcomed. The atmosphere, while gave the image of high class, the noise level was similar to that of a busy pub. I sat amongst fellow students yelling to speak to the person across from me. Not what I had expected from the tall tales of the infamous high table experience.

We made it through a lovely meal of crawfish and avocado, beef and potatoes and what I took as a very alcoholic red velvet cake. We were left with a speech from an Oxford don and an unexpected UGA chant, "Who's that comin' down the track..."

My experiences have shown me that there is no event too classy that UGA students and alumni can't turn into a party. Go Dawgs!