The college climate would be far from complete without tradition. This, I soon found, would be the key to surviving an 18-credit, 10-hour work week. As spontaneous as we were in our first year, trips to local Baker’s diner in Dillsburg became commonplace. Eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night? Class at 8 a.m.? Somehow, Baker’s seemed like an appropriate destination. Their egg and bacon sandwich on a croissant is insurmountable; their appetizer platter constantly kept us up beyond midnight. This is our tradition.