Part 3 — Orientation.
Orientation was a blast.
Well, most of it. In general, it was hot as blazes; it hovered around 96˚ the entire time and not even our dorm had air conditioning. The entire thing often felt like a massive, hazy, group hallucinatory mirage. I still haven’t made complete sense of all that happened at orientation and I will share it, bit by bit, so tonight I’m offering an anecdote that is, to me, perhaps the most perfectly sour icing on my cake.
Remember drivers’ ed? Remember how they told us over and over that being tired is worse than being drunk?
Well, I can’t speak to the drunk aspect of it, but being tired is a bitch. And being tired impairs your judgement and your ability to think. By the time Friday morning rolled around, I had been operating on four hours’ sleep since the previous Sunday, with Thursday night spent in the hot dorm drifting in and out of a hazy coma. Needless to say, I was bone tired, friggin’ exhausted.
I had my alarm set for five a.m. because I wanted to take a shower before anyone else was in there. My alarm, I should probably mention, is a horrible noise. It freaks my cat out and makes him dig into me if he’s at my feet. It freaks me out and sends me wide awake. It is, in short, a sound from the Android collection, that of a rooster in the morning.
Well, it’s five a.m. and I come wide awake because that damn rooster is cawing and it’s making me cringe. I had two roommates and, as far as roommates go, these two were the absolute best. They were really nice and very easy to share a room with. I didn’t want my damn alarm to wake them up.
I should probably mention where I am. I’m on the top of a lofted bed. It’s up high, close to the ceiling, and it’s difficult to get down. I had talked to my roommate who had the other lofted bed and asked her how she got down and she said you kinda just had to jump.
So it’s five a.m. The room is really rather dark and I’m falling asleep as I sit there debating how to climb down and shut my alarm off so my roommates don’t wake up. Then I remember what my roommate said about kinda having to jump and, in my sleep-deprived brain, this sounds like a pretty good idea because I need to get down there and turn my alarm off before I wake my roommates.
So I jumped off my lofted bed, completely forgetting that the floor is hard linoleum and that my two hard suitcases, plus a chair with the fan that is angled up toward me, is down there. Luckily for me, I missed the chair with the fan and most of the suitcases. I landed on my feet, but I immediately went crumpling and crashing down onto my side. I checked later and I found I was pretty bruised.
My roommate who was sleeping on the unlofted bed said she remembered hearing the chicken alarm and thinking, What is that and why won’t it turn off? Then she opened her eyes and saw me “Tarzan-jump” past and thought, Where is she going!?!
Needless to say, I woke both my roommates up. Then I felt really really bad about waking them up.
It was kind of all for nothing because I got ready and I was so exhausted I ended up almost falling asleep in the desk chair, so I climbed back up into bed fully dressed and slept until about 8:2oish, which was my limit because I had to schedule my classes at 9 and then I could go home.
Souvenirs from orientation: Geeky breakaway lanyard? Check. Photo I didn’t know I was taking of the floor? Check. Extensive bruising? Double check.
Yup, I think I reached my limit…
Mental Notes: Never loft bed again. Ever. Don’t even think about it. Don’t even consider it a possibility.