This Sunday, my friend and I sat silently at Picante eating our $11 quesadillas (a great deal btw). We sat there with a long weekend of *redacted* activities weighing on our heads, hearts and stomachs. My head lay up against the wall behind me, staring at the blank ceiling; my friend solemnly drank his diet coke, shaking his leg in anticipation of the work ahead of him. The freshmen who sat next to us filled the restaurant with laughter and novelty. A familiar fire burned in their eyes, the same fire that had once burned in ours.
“Midterms being next week suck, but at least we can say we’re halfway done,” my friend said as he put down his Diet Coke. I leveled out my head and stared at him before saying, “What? We aren’t halfway done. It’s only been a month.” Our eyes locked for a few seconds before he crashed out. He flung his $11 quesadilla (great deal still) at the laughing freshmen before flipping the table over and screaming profane, unholy words at the world. Other customers screamed in terror while the workers were too stunned to speak. Me? Well, I sat there. My crash out happened a week prior at Tasty. I am no longer allowed within 100 yards of the premises.
His crash out (and mine) was justified. It’s only been one month. Like, only one month. Pretty unbelievable. The semester isn’t almost over. 30 days. One month … one month. 30 days … ARE YOU KIDDING ME!! ONE MONTH!!?? I can’t believe it. One month. One month????? My forehead is covered in wrinkles; my hair is starting to turn gray. Why do I have such heavy bags under my eyes? Why does my back ache whenever I get out of bed? Why do my legs drag while walking into Tisch? You are telling me that it has only been a month? We’re cooked.
This may not feel as drastic to all you freshies (or all you who are taking some lackadaisical classes such as CS40), but, for the rest of us, these 30 days have felt like 30 years. The number of late nights I have spent at Tisch, the amount of caffeine I have ingested and the number of panic attacks I have had are not normal quantities for just a singular month. Even as I write this publication, I sit in the Tisch reading room, procrastinating from the taunting segfaults in my CS project and the provoking Lagrange method in my EC11 midterm mock exam.
Now, I know I am not alone in this sentiment. I am confident that this sad and anxiety-provoking crash out is shared amongst the majority of the students on campus. Even though I know that so many of us are overwhelmed by everything happening to us as individuals and us as a society, the Tisch reading room is still packed. My classes are still full, Dewick is still bustling and the Sink is still slow. Time is still moving on. We are still moving on.
This is an example of the true indomitable human spirit. When the entire world gets tough, we get tough with it. When that class you took this semester just for the distribution credit actually starts getting difficult, you lock in. When your friend who is majoring in drawing keeps asking you to go to a certain, undisclosed location on a Thursday night, you ignore them (or don’t, tbh this is a valid reason to procrastinate work). Nonetheless, it is moments like these where the strength and mentality of our human spirit shine bright. It is moments when you are in the JCC way past closing, and it is just you and the janitorial crew where we are molded into who we will become.
Times like these, when you crash out in Picante, are what college is truly about. And sure, us older folk here on campus may not have the same fire in our eyes as the weird freshies. Sure, our backs may ache, and the best parts of our days are dependent on how long the quesadilla line is at Hodge, but I know that in forty years, we will look back on these times fondly. I am confident that in forty years, instead of my friend and I solemnly sitting at Picante, bewildered by how slow time has moved, we will be sharing a piña colada on the sunny beaches of Turks and Caicos, bewildered by how fast time has gone. We will share a quaint smile and reminiscence about all those last nights at the JCC and all those segfaults. And our eyes may not have that same fire those freshies did, but we will be content in our hearts, grateful for all those times. Even when he wasted his stellar deal of an $11 quesadilla (please sponsor me Picante).
With an impending crash out,
Ben Rachel
