Man, I really want to get to my next class. I like going to class a lot. I can impress the people next to me with my crossword-solving abilities Monday and my jumble-solving abilities most other days! It's a shame I have to walk all the way down the Lawn this unseasonably warm day that clearly has been caused by global warming.
There aren't many people around here at the moment -- in fact, there's just one person heading the other way and we're about to cross paths!
What do I do? Nod and smile? That's a lot of work for someone I've never met, especially if he turns out to be creepy. Maybe he'll look down or be otherwise distracted and save me the trouble. Here it comes ... No! He made eye contact and smiled, but only at the last possible second for me to reciprocate the kind gesture, and I was too slow! Now he thinks I'm a jerk.
Oh well, I'm sure I'll never see him again.
Now there are more people around. A lot of them are wearing sunglasses. That's bad news bears.
I feel like I can't be alone in this problem: It is completely impossible for me to recognize girls when they're wearing shades. I wish it would get colder soon so fewer of them would. It doesn't matter if they're six-foot-five, dressed like a clown or someone I've known for 15 years. The eyes are too important a part of visual recognition. And then they get all indignant on me later, telling me how antisocial I am! Come on, I don't have X-freaking-ray vision. But I could ...
I could look around and see if maybe I recognize anyone, but wouldn't it be so much easier to pretend I'm making a phone call or fiddling with my iPod or something? I'm coming up on those damned Lawn tablers anyway. Listen, guys. I've been at this school for a few years now. I know what activities I want to be involved with. I don't want to attend your boring event. And even if I were interested, being interrupted from my brisk stroll to class is not how I would like to be informed of it. It's like a well-dressed bum asking me for change, except at least the bum doesn't hand me a brightly colored slip of paper that I'd feel bad not to accept, but feel even worse to immediately throw away, thereby wasting that tiny sliver of what was once a plant's life. And don't you dare pull that "You have to come over here!" bit if you happen to know me. Chances are you already tried to convince me to do whatever thing you're advertising, and I told you no. I wish there were a bridge that went straight over all you guys.
Oh, look. Here comes that TA I had two years ago. Man, I worked my arse off in that class, participated in every discussion, and he still had the nerve to give me a B. What if that B is what makes the difference between a good job and a lousy one? He may be a cool dude, but I can't give him the time of day. Best to pretend I'm receiving a text message from an imaginary friend and keep my eyes down.
School is tiring, man. I just want to get home and take a nap. The weekends and evenings are the times for socializing, anyway! People give me guff for not liking school-day conversation, but if you listen to 95 percent of them, you'll hear some variant of this:
"What's up?"
"Oh, you know ... tired."
"Yeah, me too ..." (then they launch into inane story as to why they're tired too)
Finally, I'm in class. Pre-class small talk really isn't so bad. You have a common ground for conversation and you can also just avoid it entirely by sitting near the air conditioner or something. Plus, if you and your convo-partner reach an awkward impasse in whatever you're talking about, you'll get cut off -- or saved -- by the teacher in a few minutes anyway.
But wait, that crossword puzzle I was so excited to do 680 words ago is completely illegible because of some sort of Cav Daily printing error. Someone should get on them about that. Oh well, there's no way in high heaven I'm paying attention, so I'd better get to writing that column instead.
Erik's column runs biweekly Thursdays. He can be reached at silk@cavalierdaily.com.
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