This is how the year begins, not with a whimper, but with a bang! The hook is baited, and all the little fish are swimming around, eager for a bite.
What’s the bait? There’s social involvement for a start, along with friends and the ever-elusive feeling of belonging. Who’s biting? Not me. As enticing as that worm is, getting reeled into the fishy festivities is not my idea of fun.
I was curious to know what other students had to say about getting involved, so I grabbed my recording device and set out to scoop the world. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm frightened off the only freshmen I could find—sad, shivering little critters lurking in the shadows—which leaves us with the opinions of the experienced, gorgeous and moderately paranoid genius—that’s right. Me.
From the Slip ‘n Slide and fountain-frolicking to the surf simulator, things are looking fairly damp. As fun as these activities sound, I’ve never been a person to enjoy water. Some would call me catlike, others witch-like, but I have no plans to be seen melting into a puddle of goo in public. For those of you who think water is a great way to escape the summer heat, consider this: Getting wet means strutting around in soaking underwear that is cold and, eventually, squeaky. How is that fun? I think a far better solution to beating the heat is ice cream —Tillamook Chocolate Peanut Butter, preferably. That sort of deliciousness always trumps mere water.
Club Rush and the Carnival sound great—until you take into consideration the fact that large crowds make it easier for people to sneak up on you, easier for them to sneak away after knifing you in the back, and easier for the crowd to diffuse responsibility and let you die instead of taking action to save the student slowly bleeding out on the campus lawn.
If you are the naive sort who still believes in the tooth fairy, by all means, go ahead. I won’t be in attendance unless my Batman-inspired armor shows up in the mail earlier than anticipated. Besides, as Mark Twain said, “When you find yourself on the side of the majority, it’s time to stop and reconsider.”
Joining the crowd to see what the fun is about is one step away from following the crowd, and following the crowd is a skip, jump, and a hop away from participating in the crowd mentality, which leads to all sorts of disaster. Thanks, but I’d rather think for myself.
My favorite so far is Mad Chad the chainsaw juggler. If he has kids, I bet they have the best bring-your-dad-to-school days ever. The week ends with a foam dance. Whatever that is, I doubt it will top the chainsaw juggling. Do we have a juggling club? Since I’m fond of my limbs, I think I’ll lay off tossing chainsaws around until I’ve either learned to juggle or joined the ranks of the chainsaw/axe murderers. Considering my juggling skills, it’s probably a tossup between the two anyway. For this event at least, I’ll take my chances and brave the crowd. Who knows when I might need to skillfully maneuver chainsaws in the future? It’s always best to watch a pro before attempting to learn yourself. For what it’s worth, I’ll try to leave my own chainsaws at home—just this once.
Overall, the Week of Welcome looks like a solid effort to lure students into school spirit, but as a fish that usually swims solo, I won’t take the bait.
