Back in the heyday, the letter 'H' and I had such good times together. In Hawaii we drank Heinekens in hammocks. In Hartford, we hooted for hot hockey heroes. Oh, happy days!
Yet last week, the way we were all came to a hasty halt. It was worse then hijackers, hurricanes and herpes. Yes, I came face to face with a multiple choice midterm question containing option 'H.'
(h) Help -- this test is horrendous and my grade is headed for hell.
Our class was so prepared. Everyone arrived early with sharpened No. 2 pencils, ready to bubble our way through ABCD paradise. For years 'D' always had been the most anti-social of the group, hanging out on the outskirts of the crowd. He was such an agreeable pushover. (d) All of the above.
But today 'D' was in the middle of an alphabet soup hot tub and swinging with the likes of the exclusive 'E,' 'F,' 'G' and 'H!' What were the odds of that ever happening? They were probably higher than my 1-in-8 odds of answering the question correct.
They were a cocky bunch, especially that 'H.' 'H' was the ringer of the team, and was out to make our class feel like a bunch of halfwits. He was out to prove that the class we mistakenly enrolled in was harsh, and was by no means a gut. He was sticking up for his buddy 'G.'
I glanced around the auditorium. It sure looked like a gut.
1. The defining characteristics of a gut class is (are):
a) The room is dominated by pack attacks -- groups of 20 or more friends who sit together and simultaneously check for missed calls on their cell phones.
b) Lights are frequently dimmed, creating a rather cozy ambiance similar to a ski chalet where vacationers pass mugs of cocoa around a roaring fire.
c) You are only allowed to sit in the farthest back row if you have really good jokes about the TAs
and it has to be new material.
d) Due to photocopying each other's notes, the class is responsible for 93.7 percent of Kinko's annual net profit.
e) Five-course lunches are spread out on the fold out arm desk.
f) All of the above
g) a, b, d
h) a and b only
Befuddled, I stared at the questions for so long that the fumes of the copy machine ink started to hit me. As my brain cells began to die off, I knew that letter H was truly a menace to society, and brought out the worst in people. Hotheaded hitchhikers, hung-over hookers.
Steam poured furiously out of my classmates' ears, and even the loyal front row group was about to step over to the dark side and become multiple choice high rollers. Though the 1-in-8 odds at guessing the answer correctly were horrible, we took a shot at it. It was like the class was playing strip poker, even though we had bad hands and were wearing heinous underwear. Things weren't going to be pretty.
2. You might have a multiple choice gambling problem if prior to a midterm you:
a) frequently convince your study group to make Smoothie King runs for a quick two-hour break.
b) become cell phone buddies with the smartest kid in class.
c) storm into Starbucks and demand that the girls on too much caffeine talk fast and tell you everything you need to know.
d) attempt to beat up the Coke machine.
e) none of the above
f) a,b,c,d and e
g) g
h) I thought this was a gut.
An hour later, humiliated and haggard, we hung our heads low, and handed in our hopeless midterms. The letter 'H' had not earned our respect for the class, but instead heightened our hatred.
The repercussions of 'H' were horrific. Grown boys who placed Herculean importance on GPAs hiccupped and cried out for their mothers. Girls with headaches heckled those brazen squirrels and threatened to harm them with their sharp No. 2 pencils. It will go down as the most hostile day in multiple-choice history.
3. Signs that people were victims of the letter 'H':
a) Hyperpnea (abnormally rapid panting)
b) Heavy drinking
c) Hallucinations
d) Refusal to celebrate Halloween
e) Nausea at sight of a Heinz ketchup bottle
f) Horripilation (body hair standing on end, i.e., gooseflesh)
g) Rapid onset of disgust with Prince Harry
h) What was the question?