Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

Lost: The Girl's Dorm Edition

I knew that I was going to get lost. It’s basic math, really. Freshman + Large Unfamiliar Campus x Absolutely No Sense of Direction = Lost Freshman. There was no point in trying to fight the inevitable – I was going to find myself staring at the words “poor freshman” scribbled on some upperclassman’s face as he or she directed me to my class on the opposite side of campus. So I prepared myself for the worst, and eventually, I did get lost… just not where I expected. 

On one particularly hot day, I decided that I needed a shorter way to get into Talge and up to my dorm room. Coming from the Village Market, I spotted a door I hadn’t noticed before and chose it as my new entrance. As I reached for my card, a girl walked up from behind me, swiped her card, and held the door open for me with a smile. I thanked her and thought nothing more of it. 

I began to walk down the hall slowly, searching for the staircase that would lead me up to my second floor room. As I passed the first room on the floor, I heard a girl’s laughter from behind the door. My eyes widened a bit and I stifled a chuckle as I assumed that some guy had invited a very “special” guest to his room. A few doors down, I heard the chatter of another girl, and began to wonder how many guys in this hall snuck girls into their rooms.  I quickly dismissed the thought, figuring that it wasn’t any of my business. 

After walking a little further down the hallway, I realized that I couldn’t find a staircase. I looked behind me to see if I might have passed it, when I heard a third girl comment on her suitcase from a room on the other side of the hall. I was about to throw my hands in the air as to say, “Really?” when everything began to piece itself together. A girl had opened the door, there was no staircase, and there seemed to be a female in every room. Then suddenly it dawned on me.

I was in the girls’ dorm – and I was the “special” guest!

Terribly embarrassed, I ran as quickly as I could to the door from which I had entered. I fumbled in my pocket for my card, whispering “Come on! Come on!” repeatedly. Triumphantly, I snatched the card from pocket’s clutches, and swiped it through the slot. A little red light appeared. The door wouldn’t budge. I swiped my card again, and again the little red light said, “No.” I groaned and leaned against the wall. Not only had I gotten lost in the girls’ dorm, but I had gotten locked in, as well.

My mind began to run wild. What would they do when they found me? They would probably think that I was “frolicking” with the ladies, and suspend – or worse, expel – me on the spot. Lost in my little world of self-woe, it was a while before I discovered that there was a young lady watching television in the recreation room. I gathered up what was left of my dignity and poked my head through the door. “Hi,” I waved. “Is it possible that you could help me with a small problem?”

During my few weeks here at Southern, I’ve come to accept the fact that I’m going to make mistakes. Strolling into the women’s residence of Talge Hall was only the first of many mistakes I have made so far, and the starting point for those I will make in the very near future. Slowly, I am beginning to welcome these mistakes because they teach lessons that are best learned the hard way. Some of these important lessons include, “Why it is important to read the syllabus” and “Why repeatedly hitting the snooze button is a bad idea,” while other more interesting lessons are, “Why you shouldn’t expect an umbrella from the 99 cents store to hold up against a hurricane-worthy rain storm,” "Why you shouldn’t schedule two classes that require vigorous physical activity on the same day,” and my personal favorite, “How to walk into a stall without dropping your glasses into the toilet.”  

This year, I’m going to take it slow. I’m going to make some mistakes, learn some lessons, get lost, and maybe even accidentally walk into the girls’ dorm again.  Whatever happens, for one year – for this one year – I’m just going to be a freshman.