I could be doing useful things like my writing my final papers, reading, sending out r?sum?s and cover letters or studying for finals. However, I am doing none of those things, which continues the trend of my last semester at good ol’ GeeDubs.
Anyway, this is my last column. Yes, start the mourning and wailing now. It boosts my fragile ego. So here’s the last bit of strangeness from me. It’ll have to do until I blackmail The Washington Post and other major newspapers into printing my manifesto.
I guess I should get all nostalgic because that’s what you’re supposed to do when it gets around to graduation time. I’m trying to think of ways to sound really original when I have to say goodbye and all that jazz. I hate sounding like a yearbook entry, you know, like “Keep in touch!” and “Have a nice summer.”
Things I’ll remember about GW: my near-death experiences on the Potomac, including hitting the 14th Street Bridge at full speed this week and sinking into the river in late February of my sophomore year; Thurston as all-you-can-eat – it was all about Saturday morning brunches; getting free stuff; going to the Library of Congress for the first time and getting lost; the smell of mulch in the spring; baseball games at Camden Yards.
Dove and Rainbow half-price pizza nights; how my lab partner didn’t use gloves when we dissected the fetal pig for baby bio; Prof. Schiff doing the bee dance and showing us crass animal cartoons; when JBKO Hall was just known as Milton, and when Fulbright was Everglades; getting stuck in the Adams Hall elevator (better known as steel death trap) during my freshman year; George harassing me at every basketball game; seeing vomit on the Hippo.
The free Labor Day concerts by the National Symphony Orchestra; that dude who rides the bike around D.C. with the stereo strapped to the back of it always playing reggae; when we got free T-shirts for every campus event, no matter how inconsequential it was; Tan Man (one of the many colorful people who wander around on campus); the GW Deli and how those guys (I think they are all named Leo) never use a cash register.
When a plane crashed into the White House and several lunatics decided to take pot shots at it. Since then Pennsylvania Avenue has turned into an excellent roller hockey arena; cherry blossoms; the Albert Einstein memorial – clearly the coolest memorial of all; the horrid smell of sauerkraut that permeates the entryway of J Street; going to all the women’s volleyball games. You should try it sometime. Very exciting. Sometimes you get free stuff.
Upsetting UMass in 1995 when Clinton was at the game; the women’s basketball team coming back from a 17-point deficit and beating Drake in overtime to go to the Sweet 16 in 1995 – the best game I’ve ever seen; Mr. Henry’s. Velvet walls. Need I say more? Tokay. Nothing more needs to be said here, either.
J Street’s Midnight Breakfast. Get free stuff. The site of some awesome dance parties; being stuck in Mitchell Hall freshman year and not talking to anyone for the first week of school; the guy who sells pasta, Taz the coffee guy and Manoosh; Filipescu saying “anal seepage”; working at Ben & Jerry’s on Halloween for the past two years and Free Cone Day. Complete anarchy; getting to write in The Hatchet about silly things like the luge and nougat.
This list is hardly comprehensive. I thought all you faithful readers might get a kick out of the strange things that stick in my mind. Think of a few of your own. It’s fun and you might be surprised at yourself. I spared you of the other memories I could add that concern crew. Most of you wouldn’t understand.
However, rowing at GW really has shaped my life. Have you ever completely thrown yourself into achieving perfection and being the best? That’s what my team does, in those early hours, when sensible people are sleeping, or some of you are just getting home.
It’s built up my threshold of pain up a lot, which could come in handy at some other point in my life. As much as my teammates and I complain about it, we are completely devoted to crew. I’ve learned what it really means to set a goal, work hard and achieve it. So, a hearty thanks and salute to my teammates and coaches. You all kick ass.
It would take a lot more room than I have to mention everyone else that was a part of my college life. So here, bring your copy of The Hatchet to me and I’ll fill in some other space. It can be like a yearbook. Later.