Move-in Day

Amazing, has it really been eighteen years already? It seems like only yesterday that your parents were coddling you, guiding you through life. For the first time, you'll spend more than two weeks away from home and your parents. Truly, this will be the experience of a lifetime. What you will learn here you will take you through the rest of your life.

Your father approaches, "Well, Son, you're a college man, now." He pats you sternly on the back. "College...is the greatest four years of your life. If only it lasted longer..." His hand tenderly rests on your shoulder. Then his face twists just slightly, as if he is thinking or remembering something. "You're not going to take any longer than four years, right, SON?" A once tender hand now mercilessly grips the back of your neck. "Because that would cost me and your mother a LOT of money, understand?"

"Yeah, Dad," you stammer before he lets you go. His mug returns to normal as imaginary horns recede back into his forehead.

"Alright, then. This is it. You've already said goodbye to your mother, right? Okay. Call home sometime, Son." And with that, your father disappears into a parking lot littered with incoming freshmen and their skittish parents.

The campus is adorned with tall trees, their lofty canopies offering shade and comfort for the warm afternoon. It's September and it's still warm? In your hand, a "Welcome Freshmen" pamphlet instructs you on your first day's obligatory activities: sign in at your dormitory, get your key, and move in! Enrolling into classes will come soon after.

It's difficult to focus on the information resting in your palm, however, as there are so many pretty girls walking this way and that. Cute, hot, tall, skinny, short, curved; there are all types!

"Hey! Hey Boy!" You turn to see your dad yelling at you from the family van. "Quit looking at the girls and do your registration!" Your mother makes some small, scolding gestures at him from the passenger side. The car rolls along slowly. Students and parents scuttle out of the way as it is obvious that your father is not looking at what is in front of him. "And don't forget that the major you choose is very important! Pick a good one! You hear me? Boy? Hey!" Finally he turns his attention to Mom, who at last succeeds in getting him to shut up and drive away.

MacLaren Hall is one of six dormitories surrounding a fountain made of stone. The buildings and the circumscribed courtyard within are collectively known as "the Village," and it is where most freshmen will be spending their first year. MacLaren, in particular, is where you'll be spending yours.

Standing five stories tall, MacLaren is a floor or two shorter than the other residential structures. It sports a light brown on its surface, which is not too different from the other halls' soft, inoffensive hues. A high-hung banner bids you welcome as you walk the steps up to MacLaren's front entrance.

Inside, the hustle and bustle of move-in day settles into a calm as your fellow new residents form long lines, organized by last name. Leaning out from behind the person before you, you can see that the wait to check in is going to be a long one. Still, it's hard to complain, as there are plenty of lovely ladies around, only this time, they're standing still enough for your furtive eyes to really enjoy the sights.

"Next," a sunken voice calls. You turn to see a brunette in uniform (green-- one of the school's colors), egregiously erect in her chair, as if one modicum of slouching would bring her far too close to you. Perhaps the table between you isn't good enough.

The girl takes your relevent documents and immediately gets to work on your registration. Despite her diligence, she looks tired and jaded. But her insipid manner fails to hide how beautiful she could be if she'd only smile.