Well, I guess this is it. Seeing as how classes are now over, finals are the only hurdles left before graduation and the summer. Scary. But us seniors aren’t going down without a fight: we plan on dragging this college thing out as long as we possibly can. I think that’s called Senior Week.
Even after all the brain cells we are guaranteed to lose throughout these last two weeks, so many cherished memories will undoubtedly remain. These memories are the kind that hundreds of Facebook photo albums will never be able to accurately represent, like the time we smuggled our first 30-rack into our freshman dorm, or the time we learned how the only tolerable way to drink Dubra was fresh out of the freezer. Or the time we went to our first townhouse party, or drunkenly hitched a ride up to the Beach. And how about all those drunken hookups with girls whose first names we never knew? College, bro. College.
But even after you take away the alcohol and the beach and the women, the past four years have left its mark on each and every one of us in its own unique way. Because of Fairfield we are forever changed. In the experience we have found friends who, for the first time, understood us for who we really are. Some of us found professors and coaches that enabled us to grow in ways we could have never before imagined. And a few lucky ones have found someone deserving of more than just one night alone together.
And in two weeks time, seemingly without warning, all of this will come to an end. To anyone that has enjoyed my writing, I’m happy to have provided you with some intellectually provoking entertainment each and every Thursday. To those that just haven’t gotten my perpetual wit and sarcasm, hopefully I’ll be too sloshed to remember you when we cross paths at the Grape during Senior Week.
And to whoever succeeds me in this position I have only one bit of advice: be yourself. Remember that it’s your column, so write whatever the hell you damn well please. How’s that for a blueprint?
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