My God, can’t that damn alarm clock shut up! What time is it? 9:47 a.m. Is it Monday today? Feels like Monday. Man my head hurts–I think I’ve got class in ten minutes. Hmm, I’m having some serious trouble opening my left eye–is this my room? I am still in Rez, right? Smells like Rez. Ugh, everything hurts–I’m so tired–movement equals death. So how did I get into this mess?
The insanity started the moment I got out of my car. There I was, my first time at the U of C, nervous as a cow at the slaughter-house, when an armada of people in blue “staff” shirts and navy vests surrounded me. They began shouting to me and with each other, and soon led me to my new home. I had trouble communicating with them as they spoke in code, using anagrams like CA, RSA and SR (I strongly believe they are part of a cult).
It didn’t take long to meet the two cult leaders on my residence floor, and they soon corralled all of the first years into the lounge for the “Do’s and Don’ts” of Rez. To be honest, there aren’t that many “Do’s”; the “Don’ts” however took three hours to go through. It seems the only place to have a beer is in your bed under the covers, and everything from cheese whiz to dirty underwear is a fire hazard.
Where I was and what was happening was quickly overwhelming me. The sudden influx of information from my floor leaders was drowning my brain and a wave of nausea swept over me as I left the meeting. I stumbled, and would’ve surely collapsed if not for a hand grasping my shoulder and the friendly voice saying, “you look like you could use a beer.” It was on.
Though the Rez student leaders did an admirable job trying to keep Residence orderly, I found it virtually impossible not to party continuously. Over the next few days I spent more time at the Den than in my room (largely due to the fact that my roommate had “company” every night). I must’ve met over 300 people, 200 of which I will never remember and 100 of which shared the name “Jen.”
My brain constantly throbbed. If it wasn’t the beer, it was the lack of sleep and the continuous onslaught of new faces with their beer induced friendliness. Sometimes it was Carl. God I hate you Carl. May I go the rest of my life and never again hear the electronic screech of that hideous megaphone that you are. Though I really enjoyed all the events put on by the cult members, they really should stop advertising them with that megaphone, or at least schedule all the events in the p.m. It doesn’t help that the person yelling through the megaphone is some horribly loud and overbearing human being who never shuts up no matter how much you tell him to “fuck off!” I heard a rumour that he was spawned in the basement of Science A specifically for the purpose of being loud.
Crap, it’s 9:56 a.m.; if I run, I can still make it to class on time. You know, this Rez life has been going pretty good so far, and although you’ve probably been given the impression that it’s all booze and craziness, I can assure you, it’s not. I just haven’t been around long enough to see the rest of it.