It’s hard not to get twitchy when all your jackass friends from high school are using the Internet to brag about the fact that they’re a final away from escaping the tyrannical government/heathens/potato famine of academia and making it across to the sweet statue of summer liberty, but if you want to look on the flipside, once you finish your midterms you can use the final weeks of school to enjoy Davis at its peak. Those pretty water polo boys are cruisin‘ on their cruisers, so it must be springtime.
Seventy-degree nights multiply the ways you can have good, wholesome fun. Flashing on back to freshman year, reminds me of parties. That’s not to say I haven’t partied since. I’m simply reminiscing about those walks down Russell in packs of fifteen. You probably don’t want to be instantly identified as first-years. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that until the new meat arrives in September in their mother’s minivans, you’re the low man on the totem pole for a little longer.
Another thing that makes freshman stand out is the fact that they dress to the nines for everything. If there’s a themed party, they go all out, and if there’s not, they dress like they’re clubbing in LA anyway. Me and my friends actually made the effort to make matching tie-dye shirts to wear on Picnic Day, not knowing that it would actually turn out to be the rainiest lousiest day ever. Later in life you’ll get lazy and just put on the default cowboy hat if you think costumes are required. A tip for getting into parties is to have a hot girl with you all times, regardless of your own gender. Two hot girls is the recommended insurance policy.
Do not be afraid of DC’ing it alone. Sitting in the DC with only yourself for company builds character. Okay, well, that’s a lie, but for God’s sake, if you can’t scarf down a cheeseburger without having your roommate hold your hand, I fear for your social sustainability. Don’t hate on the DC too much, either, because it’s straight pizza and Cup O‘ Noodles from next year on out. And discover the art of a fro-yo milkshake.
Certain recurring situations in the dorms require the discovery of teamwork, as well. Like when elevator doors open to reveal your passed-out neighbor and you have to throw him on the couch so he doesn’t get stepped on. Or you walk into the bathroom and hear someone screaming, “Help me, I’m naked!” from the showers. It’s up to you and the other good Samaritans around you to help these confused individuals out. One night, one of my friends was praying to the porcelain god when one of our other friends momentarily let go of her and her head fell into the toilet. Just imagine how crummy she would have felt had we not pulled her out of there and she’d woken up like that in the morning. Think of all the people who’ve helped you put your pants back on/get home/tell you what you did the next morning. Now feel the gratitude. Please please partake in the goodwill.
Also, since the end is so near and you’re that close to not having to give a crap, don’t be afraid to get back at your jerk roommate if you do have a jerk roommate. If she’s been stealing your cookies all year, then dagnabit, steal her boyfriend.
Don’t pass up chances at true pure innocent puppy love if you should be lucky enough to find it. You probably didn’t want the old ball and chain because you wanted to see what else was out there, but we college students are generally so hedonistic and amoral that sowing those wild oats really isn’t worth it. If you find a guy who calls you before 11 p.m., don’t shoot the poor kid down.
When you do make it home this summer and trade college stories with all your hometown friends, hopefully it’ll become clear that Davis was a bueno college decision. Running wild, making (bad) decisions and having crazy adventures is just the intro to this magical college thing. Live it.
As much as I try to hold it down, the fact that I won’t always have my entire college career before me is slightly sinking in. Change is inevitable, and there are times when I miss those days of freshman randomness. A little. Two years just sounds like a long time. And sometimes it all seems like yesterday.
MICHELLE RICK, in all frankness, is not above begging for DC swipes. Drop a line to email@example.com and she’ll be your BFF at least until lunch is over.