Strolling along Locust Walk the other day, I came to an epiphany. This wasn't just another one of my lame-ass "Whoops, I forgot to write my term paper" or "Two girls at once... sure, why not?" epiphanies. Nope, nothing of the sort. This was far more earth shattering: I'm fucking old.
I never thought I'd say those words. After all, I'm the youngest child, pampered and loved. I'm not old; I'm the family baby. Could you picture anyone coming to ask me for sagely advice? I think not. I'd just as soon tell them to drink until their heart's content, smoke illicit substances and fuck like rabbits. But, I must be getting old. I'm turning 22 in a few months... twenty-two. I might as well be one of those grad students who spends every waking moment sipping coffee and reading the Financial Times outside Steiny-D.
I walk around campus and everywhere I look I see young, starry-eyed freshmen still enchanted by the wonders of college life. One of my friends told me he almost stepped on one such freshman two weeks ago. Go figure.
The other night I was heading off to Blarney, when my friend asked me if I wanted to hit a frat party after knocking down a few pitchers. I looked at her in complete disgust and horror. Me? At a frat party? The thought sent chills down my spine. What would I be doing hanging out with a bunch of freshmen!? What if someone saw me? My hard-earned Penn image would be completely destroyed. How would I be able to face my peers? How would I be able to face myself?
When I was a freshman, I always looked up to the upperclassmen. They had the power; they could drink. No more sneaking into the Quad late at night with my three backpacks filled with hard liquor and two heavy brown bags full of forties. No more worrying about violating "quiet hours" so some tool could re-read and re-highlight chapters of his Psych textbook. How displaced do I feel? I don't even remember those days.
I had to go back to the Quad to jog my memory.
Last week, I entered the gates and... Carpeting? A/C? No vermin. No cinder blocks. No Ghetto Quad. Landscaping in front of Baby Quad?
I'm really getting old.
As a freshman, I wanted to be of legal age. I would give anything to be 21. But as a freshman, I also told myself that I'd never forget what it was like to be underage. Now that I've experienced the good life for almost a year, would I go back? Hell no. Do I wish ill on my lower class brethren? That's an interesting question.
Since I became a senior, I've felt a certain distance from the rest of the school. Now I've got lots of friends younger than I am. But in talking to my fellow seniors, we've wholeheartedly agreed that we no longer have a feeling of solidarity with the other three classes. Especially freshman. We'd rather hang out amongst our own, preferably at a bar, definitely not at some freshman frat party.
It's a shame we seniors feel this way. I'm sure the freshmen are wonderful people.
