What to expect your first year here
Published Aug. 29, 2008
It's the middle of the summer, and as I lounge on a raft in my newly purchased inflatable baby pool (also called an "adult lounge," according to the box it came in - kind of sketchy if you ask me), I find myself thinking about two things (consecutively, I might add): One, I need to hire a cabana boy to bring me tasty beverages, and two, oh crap, I need to write a column sometime in the near future. And with a lack of any exciting developments in my life so far this summer, I decided that my best bet would be to reflect upon some of the things I learned during my first year as a college student.
One of the first things that I learned at MU is that, contrary to what your mother has been telling you since you were 3 years old, you do not need to look both ways or proceed with caution before crossing the street. Here at MU's pedestrian campus, it is customary for students to dart out into the streets whenever they fancy.
You might be thinking that this seems unfair to drivers, but I disagree. Let me explain my mentality. When I'm trekking 20 minutes across campus, I'm either wrapped up like an Eskimo or sweating like I just finished a desert marathon (because in Missouri there are only two temperatures: unbearably cold and disgustingly hot). And when I meet up with an approaching vehicle, it is obviously my right, as the suffering pedestrian, to cross in front of the lazy and comfortable driver, therefore saving myself from spending approximately three extra seconds weathering the outdoors.
However, if you gain the rumored "Mizzou 22," you might be rolling yourself across the street in lieu of walking. That's right, at the University of Missouri we truly are overachievers. Forget the "Freshmen 15" because you'll be adding an extra seven pounds to your weight gain, just so that it can rhyme with our university's name. Once you've survived a semester on campus, though, it's not difficult to imagine where those extra pounds come from. In the campus dining halls, dessert is served with breakfast, lunch and dinner (unless you count jelly-filled doughnuts and caramel apple pastries as substantial breakfast foods ... and if you do, then I have a feeling you might be carrying around an extra 22 pounds already). And as if that isn't enough, just wait until finals week, when residence halls provide students with a plethora of lard-laden free fast food. I don't know about you, but nothing gets me pumped for studying quite like feeling of greasy pizza giving me indigestion.
Finally, and most importantly, I learned that the people that live in your residence hall freshman year will without a doubt be more annoying than anyone else you've met in your entire life. During the daytime they will appear to be normal, friendly human beings, but once night falls, they will transform (much like werewolves) into freakishly loud and immature beasts. The kids that live in the room above you will begin clog dancing the moment you lie down to go to bed. The guys down the hall will scatter condoms in front of each door like presents left by Santa Claus, and the girl in the room across from you will scream at her boyfriend at 2 in the freaking morning like that's the only time her vocal chords can function (don't bother asking them to shut up. I tried, it won't work). Apparently, these werewolf-esque college students don't require sleep, so kiss your dreams goodbye.
So after perfecting the art of dodging cars and avoiding the temptation of eating 12 ice cream cones per day, I managed to survive my first year of college. And though I didn't get quite as much sleep as I wanted, at least I got the satisfaction of knowing that the girl across the hall will have to live with the alarming image of me at 2 a.m., covered in white face cream, half-naked and pissed, scorched into her brain forever.
