The first day of classes is always the same. Same walk to class, same anonymous faces, same internal monologue. If I had any friends I'd share it with them, but instead, I'll share it with you: the dozen or so people who will actually read this column today.
Walk up to Cabell whistling "Since You've Been Gone."Note to self: You must get that song out of your head. Arrive at Cabell ten minutes early. This will surely be the last time I'm early to a class the rest of the semester.
Grab a Cavalier Daily. Glance at headlines pretending to understand what the important issues are at the University. I... don't get it. Give up, turn to Comics page. Stare at "Whatzit." I... don't get it. Give up, place newspaper in backpack to "read later." Of course, it will never be looked at again.
All right, which room is this class in again? Oh man, now I've got to do the socially awkward glance at my own schedule for MATH 121 right in front of everybody.
Nuts, caught. Some dude smirked at me while I did it. Like you're fooling anyone, man, I can see your schedule's in that clear plastic sleeve on your notebook.
Man, why are my pants so heavy?
Oh, right. I've got $9.55 worth in Convocation nickels in them. Thank you, Casteen.
All right, I'm here. Take a seat. Not too up front, not too in back.
Oh, no. Here comes some student. Don't sit by me. Don't sit by me. Damn it. You sat right next to me when there are clearly other seats in the vicinity. You've violated the core tenets of seating arrangement in semi-social situations. Today I've made a lasting enemy.
This guy clearly chose his Sunday-best for the first day of classes. I bet he spent most of last night ironing that shirt. Unless he just copped out and bought a wrinkle-free shirt.
Bah, who am I to judge, I love those things. God bless the man who invented wrinkle-free dress shirts. Soon, irons will be a thing of the past. Children will play Monopoly and go, "What is this triangular-shaped, handled piece?" To which their parents will reply, "Oh, nothing, dear, it's a thing of the past. Ignore that, just pick the non-hover limousine or spotted-bucket."
Why did I just think that?
Ughhh... I'm so tired. It's too early. Wait, what time is it? 11:50. Oh.
I'm quite convinced eventually they'll find a cure to sleep. Coffee will keep you more awake, but sooner or later even that fails. I feel as though Redbulls, in theory, could keep you going indefinitely. Oh sure, you'd induce psychosis, but seriously, what doesn't in today's world? And adding eight hours to your day? Totally worth it.
Wait. Is this guy talking to me now?
"Hello."
"Uh...Hey."
"No, no."
"What?"
"Yeah, I'm in class right now."
"I know..."
"No, it hasn't started yet, I'm free to talk."
"All right, then..."
"Ahh, yeah I hate that guy. What are you doing tonight?"
And then it dawns on me. I'm the victim of a cell phone earpiece. I hate the phone psych-out. Time to lower your head, look in the other direction and pretend no one saw that.
Damn.
Wait, I can hear the clop of shoes not of the tennis or flip-flop variety, so I'm certain the professor's coming.
"Good morning students, and welcome to PLAP 735."
Double damn.
Eric can be reached at cunningham@cavalierdaily.com.
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