Freshman: The Punching Bag

Before I start this let’s all say this out loud, “I (state your name), at one point in my life have (possibly) been a college freshman.”  There, now you don’t have to lie to yourself and pretend you skipped that step in your pursuit of a higher education.  Because you didn’t.  You were just as awkward as everyone else. 

So, taking from my experience of being a freshman - and the last two years I spent observing them - I’m going to make a list on how to spot the telltale signs of being the fresh meat.  Because that’s what they are: dinner for the amusement of their older and wiser peers.  And I mean wiser in the sense that we know how many beers we can drink before we vomit in that poor shrubbery I mentioned last time.  (I do not endorse drinking beers until you vomit)

You’re a freshman; you’re not fooling anyone:

If you see a pack, then it’s a group of freshman.  And I’m not talking three to four people; I’m talking nine to ten.  Why are all of these people necessary?  Most likely they had some awkward encounter during those horrible peer mentor activities and now they’re convinced they’re bonded forever.  This is false.  I don’t remember anyone I had to hug that day, and I know the number was around thirteen.  In fact, within the pack that I clung to for the first two weeks, I hated most of them.  Freshman are like leeches, they don’t go away until your burn them off.

If you can see a lanyard on or near any part of their body, it’s a freshman.  Don’t let the backwards lanyard fool you, it’s most likely a jock or a bro trying to pass for “cool” but failing miserably.

If you see a tray, it’s a freshman.  That or a laxer who needs all that space for his three plates and four cups of PowerAde (Note this is in violation of dining hall rule #6).  But if you notice those things absent from said tray, your first assumption was correct.  You have indeed spotted another freshman.

When you’re at a party and you see a bunch of people you don’t know, said party has been invaded and you should leave as soon as possible.  Freshmen are loud and obnoxious, and lets face it, inconsiderate.  If you made a bucket of jungle juice, consider it gone.

If you’re at a party and you can spot more than three girls crying, they’re all freshman.  There’s just something about a frat party that makes ‘em cry. 

Are they walking across a Wash Ave?  Congratulations, you’ve spotted another one!  Or you’ve spied a really antisocial upperclassman that decided they’d rather live in the shit hole that is Minta than find three friends (actually you don’t even have to like them) and live somewhere halfway decent where you don’t have to worry about mice getting into your Captain Crunch box.  Bastards got mine every time. 

The new Mac Books.  Now, I’m not hatin’ on new Macs, (‘cause they’re super pretty) but if you have one you’re basically a walking billboard shouting, “HEY I’M NEW, LOOK HOW SHINY MY KEYS ARE.”  My white Mac book circa 2008 has seen much better days.  My “enter” key is disgusting and I have so many dents that I’m sure one more could be the end of my baby.  Which would suck ‘cause I still need it to pull out one more year and 35 pages of death that will be my very shitty thesis.

They’re a freshman if they disobey every one of the rules I previously gave in regards to the dining hall. 

Sadly, you will not be able to implement these trusty techniques for some months to come.  But it’s something I definitely I look forward to during the summer.  I dream about it when I’m shoveling out popcorn to ungrateful pimply teenagers who will one day suffer through their freshman year.  The thought is so much more satisfying than thinking they’ll never even graduate high school.  I want them to graduate, because they leave thinking they’re the top of the food chain, and then come to the realization that they’re once again the bottom on the totem pole.  Suck it, losers. 

Unofficial Dining Hall Rules

In elementary school we are conditioned to do everything in lines.  You walk to class, lunch, music, and gym, anywhere you have to be you go in a straight file.  Goody two shoes at the front, soon to be delinquents in the back, and the undecided in the middle.  So why is it that once we get to college we forget the simple order of things?  If you think about it, it should be engrained into our minds like the Pavlov condition was to those dogs. 

Forgetting to and no longer implementing the use of lines has turned the WAC dining hall into a mosh pit of discourse and annoyance.  Well, the lack of lines is not entirely the reason; people still make them when getting food.  But everyone is too scared of getting close and maybe accidentally touching someone that it forms an impossible barrier that prevents me from getting to the fricken cereal.  So in order to help everyone be less douchey I’ve made a list of things that people should do to make the dining hall a more pleasant experience for everyone.

Rules of proper dining hall etiquette

1. When marching up the steps be sure to have your card at the ready.  No one likes the asshole that makes everyone wait while they look around in their Vera Bradley or sports bag for a card that should already have swiped through.  I have twenty minutes to eat and I don’t want to spend ten of that smelling your sweaty gym bag because you couldn’t find a white plastic card.
2. MAKE ACTUAL LINES.  And while in these lines actually FACE FORWARD.  Is it really that important to discuss how much time you spent vomiting the night before?  I can tell you I don’t want to hear it.  I also don’t want to wait another five minutes before you realize the line has moved and you’re still standing there demonstrating how you pray to the porcelain Gods.  Or more likely a poor unsuspecting shrub.  
3. Do not just stand still.  Think of the dining hall floor as oncoming traffic.  You wouldn’t just stand in the crosswalk as the cars went by, that gets you dead.  So don’t just stand there with four other people talking about how awesome that sorority party was the night before.  Because it probably wasn’t that awesome.  Most likely you had beer spilled on you at some point and your dress probably ripped in an inappropriate place but you were too drunk to realize and now you’re “That Girl.”
4. A continuation of number 3.  Don’t stand in front of the silverware.  No matter how long you stand there, the forks aren’t just going to reappear.  Move on.  I need a spoon and spoons are always there, as are knifes.  (Because who really cuts there food at this age, its like we’ve reverted to our Neanderthal state). 
5. When getting food, annunciate.  Bro number 1 behind you is talking about playing beer pong and bro number 2 is probably laughing too loud to show off to bro number 3 who is probably wondering if his professor is going to notice that he cheated off bro number 4 on that bio test that a five year old could pass.  And as always after getting food, say thank you. 
6. Do not take a bunch of cups.  You are one person, you get one cup.  If your friend(s) are too lazy to get up, they don’t get one.  Also unacceptable: taking a whole stack of them.  Do that many people like you that you can justify taking the last stack?  I’m inclined to think not.
7. As a subcategory you may take more than one cup when: it is for a small child, it   is for a visiting relative.
8. If the dining hall is between the hours of 12-1 it’s going to be very busy and there won’t be a lot of places to sit.  So move your bag off the seat next to you.  You’re not going to get cooties if you have to sit next to someone else, but you will be seen as a jerk if you don’t.  The floor isn’t gong to swallow your Patagonia (fratabronia) backpack; it’ll be there when you’re ready to leave.
9. Leaving the dining hall: There are no rules.  Lets face it, putting your plate on that conveyor belt and getting out of there is comparable to escaping the trenches.  There really is no safe way to do it.  There’s people coming at you left and right and with no clear exit in sight, I’m surprised more people don’t just sit there, curl into the fetal position and wait for their mom to find them.  So my advice: Every person for themselves.  Though if you could avoid spilling something on someone else, much obliged.
10. When it is mozzarella day, all of the above rules are completely negated.  Unless it is rule number 6.  The cup rule does not change.

Obligatory first post

This blog is designed to be a weekly (maybe) commentary on the goings on at WAC.  It in no way represents the college as a whole.  If you're easily offended you probably shouldn't read this.

I write in run on sentences and sometimes completely disregard grammar.  So if you're a stickler for the rules, this isn't the place for you.