We were all barely functional when we woke up Saturday morning. The medley of pasta, string beans, and frozen pizza I had made the night before remained on the stove and Bianca was passed out on the couch under her 101 Dalmations comforter. We managed to look half-way decent, and then, since it was Commencement, I decided to buy my very first bagel, egg and cheese. I decided to save part of it for later, and "later" ended up being 5 minutes after I finished the first half.
Without regard to the notion of public, the three of us loudly discussed the previous night's events, traumatizing not only the unaware parents, but also the Ram Van driver who then retaliated by playing eerie futuristic music that reverberated deep into our marrow. We were stuck in traffic about 5 minutes away from Fordham, and Bianca held the egg sandwich's brown bag close to her face, heaving every so often as the motions of the car conflated with the motions of the music.
We passed the first test (Bianca didn't vomit and Patrick and I didn't reveal ALL of our personal lives to the rest of the van). We then needed to figure out where to go next. We asked a security guard where we should be, and he pointed in the opposite direction, towards the field where all the family and friends were collecting themselves. We realized we looked just like spectators, and then stopped in the middle of the road to put on our caps and gowns, a feat in and of itself. After about 30 minutes of fumbling and cursing and causing traffic jams, we went to find the appropriate location to check-in.
We received our graduation cards and went off to find a bathroom. The lines were out the door, and it was almost 10 o'clock. I decided to hold off on my pee so that I could graduate. The problem was, however, that no one had told us where to go. We ventured into the lawn, but our section was closed off, and we assumed (or hoped) there would be a much more ceremonial entrance. We finally stumbled upon a line of graduates, all of whom seemed to have received some information to which we were not privy. Some decrepit white lady yelled at us for not forming two single file lines, and any time we stepped out of the line to talk to a friend she would suddenly appear, as if from thin air, yelling at us to "get in two by two's." We found out her name was Astrid, and we feared her wrath the rest of the day.
We were fortunate to sit next to each other during the Commencement ceremony. The heat furthered our drowsiness, and all we wanted to do was play with water balloons and dance on chairs. We found the speeches to be incomprehensible, delivered by people we didn't care about who only showed face at events where they could promote the Alumni organizations. Senator Schumer taught us it was okay to make bad decisions, and so Patrick and Bianca then wistfully looked on at the kids behind us drinking out of flasks.
After about 64 years, the degrees were finally conferred. We had to herd ourselves over to the library, and once again we were confused about where to go. The three of us walked over the library to say hi to our friends and families, and Petit-Hall swooped down on us in her glittering purple robes, demanding us to stop. "Where do you think you're going? You have to line up there!" She pointed to a line of graduates who, once again, seemed to have received some message no one relayed to us. We lined up, ate our rations (Nature Valley granola bars and water), and waited for the ceremonial entrance.
After about 40 minutes, during which no one could answer my any of my logistical questions, we started to walk, down to the library and through crowds of spectators. I was tired, my knee was throbbing, and didn't want to be in alphabetical order. The next test was dealing with Dean Greif splutter and frustrate the entire procession. He was brilliant at being himself, and his classic confusion and nervousness, while normally cute and endearing, considerably slowed down the diploma reception.
Once we had finally reached the W's, I felt a sense of relief. The anxiety of deciphering arbitrarily indiscernible graduation rules and codes and procedures began to fade, and I realized that everything would soon be over and we could just enjoy the rest of the day. I received many loving text messages from my friends after I received my diploma. My parents then texted me from 10 rows back: "How many and what kind of subway sandwiches". Patrick, Bianca, and I had planned a family picnic in Central Park, so that we could all celebrate together without the confines of a restaurant. For the past week, our parents have been constantly texting, calling, and emailing us, not to see if we were alive, but to see if we had planned the picnic in the park. It was the biggest stress of their lives, and at one point during Senior Week, all three of us were in a bar huddled around Brian's blackberry, and wrote a mass email to our parents through group efforts. When my parents texted me at graduation, I replied curtly, telling them I would see them in 10 minutes and we could discuss then.
The stress of buying Subway sandwiches and coordinating lunch with the Shae and Rodrigues families was enough to dispel any emotions of finishing school, and commencing reality. Once we all finally collected ourselves, and Bianca's family finally found the park and I unnecessarily told Patrick's family that my apartment had no toilet paper, we could enjoy the wine and the hummus and the love and the bare feet. It was the complete release of all of our fears and anxieties and body pains and stress. Besides the fact that we could hardly answer Bianca's sister's question, "What are some of your favorite memories of college?" we had passed all tests. We were graduated. We did it, though we were still not entirely sure what "it" was, and were too tired to figure it out. The game had ended, and all we wanted was sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment