From the Day We Arrive on the Planet

After four years on campus and four months away, my return last Friday was hazy, tiring, and exhilarating. Then on Saturday morning, everything seemed to come full circle.

The day started off in this room. And quickly moved onto a shower. In a freshman dorm. With shower shoes and a shampoo caddy and everything. Just like four years ago, it was a humbling and pomegranate-y experience. (And no, I'm not shady. I just stayed with the wondrous Megan, interior decorator extraordinaire and head proctor over some very trusting first years.) Since my key no longer worked on campus, I relied on the good graces of freshmen to let me into the building. All weekend long, they opened the doors for me without asking who I was. So long as I knocked on the door, no matter the hour, they were willing to let a complete stranger in. This just days after the head of security gave them all a talk on not opening the door to strangers. You know, I don't think they're a very bright group.

Later in the morning, after a much-needed visit to Grand City (don't know why, but I can't find a place near home that'd serve corned beef hash, fried eggs, and English muffins with a side of old-people-watching for less than five dollars. Starbucks doesn't have any of those things), I met up with Professor BSketch. She probably shouldn't be called BSketch anymore because she's not sketch. Anyway, in a great reversal of student-teacher roles, she brought me an apple. A wonderfully fresh, crisp, and tart apple. I love the taste of societally ascribed roles crumbling away.

Then there was the hug, which actually took place on Friday. Many moons ago, when our upper-level soc seminar ended, the Band Man invited our class over for holiday cookies and guacamole (and I totally wowed everyone with my potato pancakes). We all lingered much longer than anticipated that afternoon, partly because it was bittersweet for one of everyone's favorite class to be ending, but mostly because it was reading period and no one wanted to read. When it was finally time to go, Band Woman mentioned that Band Man was "a hugger"- a comment that none of us knew what to do with. Chris may have hugged him in response. The rest of us just milled around mumbling our goodbyes. Until Diem, who was dropped often and hard as a child, shouted "Group hug!"

At first, I tried to laugh it off. But a couple of people actually started linking arms. And soon the rest of us couldn't back off. It all happened so fast. Suddenly, the ten or so of us found ourselves huddled together. We shared a group hug. Followed quickly by an awkward pause. Until we promised never to speak of the moment to anyone. I mean, I'm nerdy as hell, but even I understood how wrong it was for us to group hug. Except I just broke the promise. And will probably get leprosy now.

Anyway, to bring this all back full circle, as I made my Riley House rounds on Friday, I hugged a couple of professors in the process. Band Man included. And as we all know is stated in the Handbook of Hugs, each new hug erases the awkwardness of all previous hugs, so all is wiped clean and smooth.

Gordy: I bet you're still shaking from the experience. I know I would be.

Diem: No! You know no one's allowed to hug him unless it's in a group.