Remember the good ole' days, last week? Everyone cared about what you did this summer, you bounced from party to party where friendly fraternity members willingly passed around beers and a new crop of 1500 freshman girls stumbled around Collegetown like Betty Ford in her hey day. Well, you can forget those disorienting days of Orientation Week, because the only remnants of the party are the sounds of plastic cups blowing with the wind down College Avenue.
While you freshmen, sophomores and juniors sober up, and you seniors try to motivate yourselves to get to class, once, I wanted to assess the problems with (*EDITOR NOTE: Please insert issue of global importance) and how those problems can be solved by orange tic-tacs, German People and helium. What you learn from this discussion may help you more aptly deal with the motley events of bewilderment and the dizzying people you'll encounter as you prepare to re-orient.
Just the other day while walking by the Campus Store, I was engaged by a 50-year-old Marxist woman working for a socialist newspaper. As I passed her by she politely smiled and then encouraged me to spark a revolution to unite the black work force. Had the woman said please, perhaps I would have been more inclined to do so, but without the magic word, I slapped her with a white glove and asked her what she thought of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Let's face it, not many people walk around thinking about mobilizing the poor to over throw corporate America and instate a militant-minded ruling class. That kind of thought is usually reserved for Rage Against the Machine lyrics and idle chat with the women who name the new sushi in Trillium.
"Would you like some wasabi with your Capitalist Idolatry and Economic Anarchy Roll?"
When I grew tired of the socialist woman spitting in my face I went inside the store and found all the books that my professors will ultimately end up not using because they feel that they can explain the concepts better. After that I wandered around the art supply section to find out the Campus Store had run out of hot glue guns. I was upset, but curbed my anger and decided to pose the wooden sketch figures to look like they were having a gang-bang. I was positioning a male figure behind a female figure which was already in a 69 with a third sexless piece of wood when I was escorted out of the book store by a tie-dye wearing sculpture major named Pauline. Apparently, Pauline doesn't know why art majors spend all that time in the studio.
Pauline threw me back onto Ho Plaza and before the Queen of the Socialists could find me again I made a dash for Willard Straight where I watched another freshman and his family get suckered into joining M and T Bank: "The bank to go to if you never need to go to a bank outside of Willard Straight."
With my new books in hand, I sat down and saw my friend Ryan filling out an Account Opening form for M and T.
"Yo, has Cornell pissed you off yet?" he asked.
I looked at him, started to mention this University's utter lack of hot glue guns and then noticed that he was drinking a "Mocha-Java-Cappa-'Spresso Lite" from the new coffee cafe in the book store.
"Why does every book store suddenly feel the need to add some sort of posh café?" I asked.
Ryan gave a very convincing argument involving orange tic-tacs, German people and helium.
Three hours later he finished his argument, handed his form in and left me to think about Cornell. The good news is that a Berlin Wall-esque partition has finally been built to keep the Engineers isolated from the rest of the population, and for the first time in history, 98 percent of the undergraduate population was born in the '80s. The bad news is that the CUPD is arresting underage drinkers like it was their job, my collection of smegma is missing again and classes have begun.
How do people jump back into that school mentality so quickly? Even two weeks ago I saw people walking around wearing backpacks. Fearing that the time to return to class was approaching, I ran up to one of the unsuspecting backpack wearers and hit him in the head with a piece of chicken I had wrestled away from some fat girl. Being a large piece of chicken, the bone struck the backpacker and caused him to fall to the ground. As he lay there, face down I pointed the fat girl's index finger at him angrily and yelled.
"So help me God, that had better be a parachute!"
It was. He explained to me that Cornell was hosting the 21st National Parachutist's Convention featuring Key Note Speaker, star of TV's Charles In Charge, April Lerman. It was a mistake anyone could have made, but the CUPD chose to blame my drinking habits as the cause for my violent mood swings, incoherent babbling and aggressive vomiting. What about blaming fear?
Without a hazy pair of goggles to see the world through, all of us must come to grips with the start of the school year, and that's a scary thing.
Last week may have seen my last first-day of school. Orientation is truly over, the freshman now know campus like the back of their hand, the Seniors must stop drinking on their couches and go drink on their porches and the sophomores and juniors
who really gives a fuck about the sophomores and juniors anyway? Let the school year begin!