What makes a man? Is it being prepared to do the right thing, whatever the cost? ...isn't that what makes a man?

Today I was faced with a choice. I could have done the prudent thing. I could have continued to sit in the bowels of the Moot Court Office, studying straight through lunch as the time between 'now' and Monday slowly shrank before my very eyes. There in the jail of my own mind I might have found comfort in my fellow classmates, similarly bound to their laptops by an unquenchable thirst for the holy grail of law school-- the A-. The cool wind and overcast skies made it know that the elements were on the side of responsibility and dedication. Who was I to question the compelling argument that I was making an investment in my future?

I am only one man, after all. Who was I to subvert the dominant paradigm? Who was I to claim I knew what it meant to be Free? Was I prepared to do the right thing? *Ring Ring* What? Is that the phone? Hello? What's that? It's destiny calling? What do you mean, 'Will I accept the charges?'

I emerged from the Moot Court office at around 12:30, thirty minutes after the scheduled game of PacManhattan had been scheduled to begin. My original plan to observe the game had momentarily slipped my mind, but I told myself that the game a) probably hadn't started exactly on time and b) given the size of the field, it was unlikely to already be over. Once I remembered, I quickly sprang into action by walking up some steps and opening a door. I was grabbing lunch with my friend Chuckie at 1:00, so I had to move quickly if I was going to make the most of the precious few minutes I had left.

I went to Washington Square Park, hoping that the crowds and low-lying brush would both be thin enough to allow me to spot a 'ghost' or the Pac-Man® himself. At first, I saw nothing. Being only one person, I feared that I would just end up constantly walking up and down the streets, forever missing the action by a single block. But then I saw her, a woman with a professional camera, slowly jogging through the park. And it was when I saw the focused look on her face I knew that we shared a similar goal. We wanted to take a picture of a dude in a yellow shirt running through the street.

This photographer was quickly moving towards the eastern edge of the park, her gaze both resolute and fixated on something in the distance. As I began to calculate her projected path, I saw a flash of pink coming down Washington Square East. It was Pinky. She was on the hunt, and I was on my way. It was going to be a good day.

I won't bore you with the details of the game, since you can read about that on your own. I managed to discover each of the four ghosts as I wandered around the area, trying to find Pac-Man. The ghosts were mainly confused, trying to spot him themselves. One of the ghosts actually had a headset on, allowing her to move more quickly while communicating her location. I tried to pick out which ghost I thought would be most likely to catch the prize, since I wanted to be there when it all fell down.

The hunt went on past 12:50 and my friend Chuckie called about lunch. I told him to come meet me in the playing field. I hadn't seen Pac-man yet, but something told me that I was going to see yellow before the day was up. Eh, I'm tired of the dramatic story telling now. You will just have to imagine me walking around with my digital camera, taking pictures of the ghosts as they jogged up and down the streets, laughing when I saw the guy holding up the cherry for points. When I finally came across Pac-man, he was being chased into a trap by the Blue Ghost (Inky, for the savvy). The Pink Ghost (Pinky) was hiding around a corner on Washington Square East as the blue ghost herded our hero methodically. I wasn't on the right side of the corner when the tagging happened, but I was happy to see that Pac-Man hadn't dissolved completely. I took a few more pictures, then Chuckie and I went down to Chinatown.

All in all, I have already said too much, but I needed to fill up enough space to justify the graphic. I've always thought that being able to create amazing collages is what makes a man. That an a pair of testicles, at least.