Life Imitating Art

Posted By on December 10, 2004

Or
“Life Imitating Crappy Teen-Oriented Entertainment”

.: I had my second final today. It was for Microeconomics. I was supposed to have my English final today as well, but I had to change the date because it took place at the same time as the aforementioned Micro final. (Thanks to the miracle of make-up exams, I now get to take my English final on Tuesday, furthering my horribly uncomfortable stay in Waco.)

.: As I arrived (early) to the testing place, I ignored everyone else and began reading a newspaper. Thirty minutes later, as the professor (whom I’ve never seen before) entered the room, I looked around and none of these people were familiar. Yes, I was in the wrong room for my final. However, the time was right, so that meant I had to hurry to find where, indeed, I was supposed to be. I ran to our normal classroom; nothing. I ran to my professor’s office; something, a note: Final: 11:30 – 1:30, Sid Rich. 126.

.: Sid Rich, as you may have guessed, is not the building I was in when I read her note. I did the logical thing and ran as fast as I could (5 mph; I’m out of shape) across the halls, past the classrooms, down the stairs—no, wait a minute, the stairs were under construction.

.: Back up the stairs, past the classrooms, across the halls, past more classrooms, down a different set of stairs, out the doors, and completely disoriented. Where was I? I had never seen this side of campus. You’d figure I’d’ve explored a little, but no, that never interested me.

.: I eventually found my way to Sid Rich and looked for room 126, which, thankfully, would be somewhere on ground level. I walked in the middle entrance and went to my right: room 127, room 128, room 129—damn! I ran across to the other side and saw: room 125, room 124, room 123—damn it all to hell! Apparently, they like to keep all their big auditorium rooms nice and hidden.

.: After a few panic-ridden seconds, I found the room and burst in—to the delight of my classmates, of course. Luckily, I arrived just as the professor passed out the tests. Minutes later, some poor sap’s embarrassingly retro ring-tone went off and I was no longer the center of ridicule. I felt good.

.: Except for, well, my dry mouth and aching side from all that running. That part didn’t feel so good.

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