I never thought I would utter the following statement: “I was in Cincinnati this weekend… and I liked it.” I came to this conclusion while on the dance floor at Wade and Lindz’s wedding listening to The Black Eyed Peas “I Gotta Feeling.” It may not have been the most obvious thought, but at that instant, my 11 year disdain for the Queen City had come to a screeching halt.

Most of my ill-conceived repugnance for Cincinnati stemmed from my antagonistic approach to rooting against my college friends’ sports teams, namely the Cincinnati Reds and Bengals. A large portion of my college friends hail from Cincinnati and as a consequence, my unadulterated love for St. Louis sports teams created a stable base from which could be fostered a lasting friendship.  I simply rooted for the Reds to lose to any and every other Major League team and watched as my die-hard Bengals fans/friends endured over a decade of horrific mediocrity.

Their pain and anguish of watching Akili Smith interceptions, Wily Mo Pena strike outs, and Chad OchoCinco’s slowly disapating touch down dances, made me happy.  My joy stemmed from the fact that they could then retort with calling me a bandwagon Boston fan and pointing out the tragic deaths of Cardinals players. [Note: referencing the tragic death of a sports team’s player is only appropriate after enduring another 3-13 Bengals season.]

As a result, I came to view Cincinnati, the birthplace and/or home of Gib, Fat, Wade, Hern, Zelch,  Hoj, Jdawg, Wade, Cole and a myriad of other respectable Cincinnatians, as a desolate wasteland of losing and misery. Even after spending a few joyful holidays and the summer after college graduation in Cincinnati, I still viewed it with disdain. It didn’t matter to me that so many of my friends called it home. Some of this disdain may have subconsciously stemmed from my own hatred for my boring hometown, Wichita, KS, but despite this self-awareness, I still considered Cincy to be another boring example of Midwest America.

When I moved to Boston in the summer of 2004, I felt as if I had been jolted alive and awakened from some sort of zombie-like slumber in which I feel most of the Midwest is entrenched.  My return trips to Cincinnati were for the weddings of my friends, who had returned to Cincy after graduation to start their adult lives with jobs, to find lovely women with whom they could spend the rest of their days, and to start families. This is not what I had in mind. Even when I returned to Cincy to bear witness to these blessed events, I still couldn’t help but think of Cincinnati as a boring place to live, and while I didn’t begrudge the lives of my friends, I didn’t think that an existence in Cincinnati was for me.

So when I was getting my grove on to “I Gotta Feeling” and watching my friends and their wives dance around Wade and Lindz, imbibe alcohol with reckless abandon, and generally have an unbelievalbly happy time, I had another one of those jolts.

I looked out into the Cincinnati skyline from Paul Brown stadium and had my opinion of Cincinnati completely reversed. Maybe it was the heat of the moment and seeing the smiles and joy on the faces of people whom I love and respect, but when I woke up the next morning, it was still there. My opinion had changed and it was all seemingly because of The Black Eyed Peas. Indeed, I got a feeling.

Wade and Lindz are the second to last of my Cincinnati friends to get married. First it was Zelch and MJ right after college. Then Matt and Jo two years later. And then Jeremy and Tiff two years ago. Cole and Mary Lynn weren’t far behind. Gib and K-T tied the knot last fall and were followed quickly by Hoj and Kristin.  And now Wade and Lindz. [Note: Hern and Coll are getting married in 3 months, but I’ll be studying medicine on an island and won’t be able to make it back.]

As several friends made the observation that  they did not know when they would see me next, a stunning reality began to percolate in my brain and culminated in my “a-ha” moment on the dance floor.

No longer can I associate Cincinnati with losing and misery. No longer can I think of it as a boring example of Midwest life. No longer can I return once a year to see another friend get married and revel in old friendships renewed, starting up again where we had left off a year earlier, and eagerly looking forward to the next awesome occasion to celebrate.

Certainly, there will be more occasions to celebrate, as families are started and expanded upon, job promotions are achieved and companies are started, and maybe there will even be a Bengals Super Bowl party.

But I most likely won’t be there for those celebrations. I’ll be busy studying for a Pathology exam, reviewing flashcards on Psychopharmacology, or working late hours into the nite during clinical rotations or as a Resident. It would have been a comfortable excuse before that moment at Wade and Lindz wedding at Paul Brown stadium.

I might still have to use those excuses for some time as I begin the next portion of my life as a medical student, but I will truly miss those experiences. At that moment, Cincinnati was no longer the home of the Reds and the Bengals or a stifling example of the Midwest. It is the home of my friends, people with whom I created relationships with over a decade ago. So I can no longer use such a myopic view to cast opinions of Cincy. It is a bit disappointing in retrospect that I held such an idiotic and sophmoric opinion for such a long time, but it is definitely true: hindsight is 20/20.

Now I don’t have to “find a reason” to visit Cincinnati. Some of my best friends in the world are there. What other reason should I need?

I don’t have the opportunity to wait until another friend gets married. There won’t be a “Save the Date: Hoj’s Big Promotion Party 2011” coming in the mail. I won’t be getting a “Gib and K-T made their 1^stMillion Dance-Party Extravaganza” or “Fat and Jo’s Triumphant Cincinnati Return House Warming”. Those aren’t the type of things my friends are going to be sending invitations for. Those events will occur, but when you have a close group of friends like mine, who have grown up together, been each others best friends for the last 11 years or longer, and see each other fairly regularly, those events won’t need much pre-planning. They will just happen. And I probably won’t be there.

No, don’t be thinking all crazy and believe that I’m seriously considering moving to Cincinnati any time soon. That thought has not entered my mind.  It is simply that my high-horse finally died and I can see my friends from Cincinnati for who they really are: a group of special people who happen to be fortunate enough to grow up together, involve other random people in their lives (thanks Gib!), and now have the wonderful opportunity to continue on into adulthood and parenthood as life-long friends.

I don’t think there are too many things more special than that. Except for maybe a Bengals Super Bowl victory. But I won’t be holding my breath on that one. Instead, I’ll make it a point to visit a great group of friends in the years to come, most of whom happen to live in Cincinnati.