Monday, March 29, 2010

My First Day of College

Before going to college I had vowed to change my lazy ways into motivated, successful ones. That lasted all of a month. But before ditching my new-found A-list personality, I attended all of my classes, including my thrice weekly Evolutionary Biology classes. It was held at 8 AM. I didn't even go to my last two years of high school until at least 10 AM!

That was old Bexxx though, and new Bexxx had determination. So I woke up at 6 AM on the first day of classes and at 7, headed to the bus that took me from the dorms to the main campus. Please note this bus takes at most 5 minutes for this trip and it takes 15 minutes to walk to the campus.

Since I lived in the most confusing dorm complex in the entire US university system, I had no idea how to get from my dorm room to the bus tunnel located below the complex. I ended up going out the completely wrong door, leading me to the end of the tunnel. This wasn't a simple tunnel end where I could just walk to the bus without any trials. Instead, I was standing at the top of the tunnel, looking down into it from the top of the roughly 15 foot walls. Although I could see the normal end from where I was, I couldn't figure out how to get over there.

I started to stress. This was not the way to start my new successful college career! My stress peaked when I heard the bus make that sound that I associated with it getting ready to leave. That "psshhhh" noise that sounds like huge amounts of air escaping. Not knowing that these buses come roughly every five minutes, I was convinced that if I didn't make it on that bus, I was going to fuck up right from the start. In that moment, I made the decision to disregard the white trash flip-flops I was wearing and leap off the edge, plunging into the dark ground below. As soon as my feet left the safe ground, I regretted it. I landed on the hard cement with both my feet and hands touching the ground, scraping everything and rolling my ankle.

I didn't have time to ponder my injuries any further as I had to hobble as quickly as possible to the bus that could be leaving any minute. I crawled up the bus stairs and joined the other four mental patients who were up at that hour. It became clear that this bus would not be leaving for another five minutes or so. It also became apparent that my swelling ankle, missing toenail and skinned, bleeding, feet were repulsing my fellow passengers. Apparently, I was not playing it off as casually as I was perceiving.

One extra horrified girl said, "Umm, your foot is disgusting. Can you please clean it?" I mumbled an apology and grabbed some lined paper from my notebook to "bandage" my toe while she looked on in disgust. Thankfully, our toothless bus driver eventually provided some moist towelettes and a real band-aid and I was able to enjoy my ride and hobble to my class 45 minutes early. This was also the day that I learned that the first day of class is completely useless and meant to be skipped.

To show where some of my craziness comes from, I limped back to my dorm room at 9 am to find I had missed 67 calls from my mom. She was worried I had slept through my first day.

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