Misplaced Urine

Let's just get one thing straight. Chinese people are not a minority. We are the plurality of the world's population. One out of every five babies born is Chinese. With all that being said, I attended Swarthmore College's Discovery Weekend 2005 this past weekend, as part of a minority recruiting program.

Hey, I can't complain too much when someone's willing to go all-expenses-paid on my ass.

Saturday morning, 10:30 flight. Get to the airport and get to my Southwest gate with an hour to spare. Bust out the SL History IA primary source: Communist China & Arms Control, A Contingency Study, 1967-1976. Awesome reading, nuclear weapons and such. A few minutes later, a young Chinese woman sits down across from me. A few minutes after that, she asks me if I'm going for "the college thing." Teenagers, we can't express ourselves in anything but vagaries. Specifics terrify us. I didn't even ask her her name until we were almost on the plane. Guess who was sitting a row behind us? Young Hispanic man from East Lake H.S. World's a little too small for my tastes, but everybody turned out to be super cool.

Read/napped on the plane ride. I can do both at the same time. Get to Philly, walk through the world's longest jetway, and find that we have to hoof it two terminals over from E to C, where the Swarthmore reps were. Wait maybe 10 minutes, most of which I spent wondering whether or not I have enough time to find a bathroom. Too late, van is here. I get to ride in the front seat, since I was the last person to get on. Best view in the house, not nearly as crowded. Not much to see though, mostly highway traffic and off/onramps until we get to the campus. Beautiful place, lot of greenery, lot of nice houses, lot of cloudy skies and mud as well. Checked-in, got acquainted, and felt rather stood up as my host didn't show. He was in Philly visiting an aunt (actually his cousin's mother's sister, but English doesn't work too well with relationships). A friend of his finally did manage to find me, and we trekked to the dingiest dorm building on-campus. Put my bags down, and could finally relax.

The people in the hall were all super awesome. My host was an international student from Peru; his roommate was a tall, redheaded American. They have a weekly radio show, Sundays at 2 AM to 4 AM, on WSRN Swarthmore radio, playing jazz. I can honestly say that the consensus among us "specs" (prospective Swarthmore students) was that the host- and roommate-matching at this school was amazing. The dynamics between everybody just clicked, beautifully. Everybody was completely at ease with one another; hell, even I fit in pretty well. Anyways, we sat in the small little double, drying off and soaking in the sweat and the dirty laundry. Dinner was in Sharples, the only dining hall on campus (Quakers had this thing about wanting everyone to eat together). Let's just say, the grub was far from mediocre. But I was hungry, so a cheeseburger and some bad imitation curry chicken managed to win a minor victory over the forces of my hunger.

Post-dinner activities were better, though this was not apparent to me at first. At first we just sort of sat around, my roommie spec and me. He was from Miami actually, so best of luck with Wilma's aftermath. Around 9:30, we headed over to a charity "Casino Night," sponsored by the African-American student organization. Ironically, this was to benefit victims of Hurricane Katrina. I made a $5 donation, and played Bingo to begin with, since all the other tables were full. Yeah, I felt old too. Craps was ridiculous; all bets paid 1:1. I just alternated between Odd, Even, 1-18, and 19-36. Lost 1 chip, out of 15, after a handful of spins. Finally managed to get a seat at a blackjack table, thinking I'd be able to recoup something at least (there was going to be an auction using the play chips we earned). Lo and behold, this wasn't the sort of normal casino blackjack I was expecting. We didn't play individually against the dealer and get paid our own bets back; we each anted up into a pot, and the overall best hand won. I could live with this, only the anteing wasn't even consistent. In the end, I just gave up. Never trust other people to run a casino, Cody.

Well, one good thing did come out of that whole episode. Actually, whether or not you think it was good will depend on who you are. As it so happened, our dealer was headed over to a frat party then, and my spec buddies and I, with nowhere better to go and no desire to go to bed, decided to follow. No one stopped me at the door (they stopped the other specs I had gone with; for some reason, I guess I look more mature or something). We got downstairs, and the bar was flowing pretty damn freely. Large 16-oz plastic cups of beer, plus smaller cups of Blue Stuff (that's the name we'll use for now). When I asked the Asian guy at the bar what they were serving, turns out the Blue Stuff was equal parts vodka, Blue Gatorade (yes, Blue is a flavor), and Sprite. Pretty damn good stuff, I'd say. I had 2 cups of that while my roommate had a few beers.

The place was pretty crowded, and everyone was more drunk than they thought they were. Some girl bumped into us, and spilled her Blue Stuff down her blouse. She started freaking out, claiming we had hit her and knocked her drink over. I think I offered to lick it off of her. I think her boyfriend heard her yelling and led her away. My memory is somewhat hazy on this part of the night; what can I say, I was drunk.

"From two cups of Blue Stuff?" you ask.
"No, I had a beer too."
"That was enough to get you drunk?"
"Well..."

We decided to leave soon; a fight had semi-broken out, and things were getting somewhat too rowdy. A junior Swattie had been telling us his opinion of Swarthmore for the last hour or so. Every other word was "fucking."

"This school is fuckin' awesome fuckin' yeah... fuckin' all the fuckin' chicks fuckin' so desperate... fuckin' so much fuckin' booze... I FUCKIN' LOVE IT HERE!"

Yup, that was enough to convince me.

Meanwhile, for some reason unbeknownst to myself, I had gone up to the bar, jacked the bottle of vodka, and started downing cups of the stuff. Let me tell you, nothing is better for a sore throat. Also, nothing keeps you warmer. I don't know why I like vodka; it's one of the few alcoholic beverages I've developed a taste for. Anyways, I don't quite remember walking back to our dorm room. I do remember my roommate relieving himself in a bush from the sidewalk.

Personally, I pissed on the floor when I woke up two hours later and went to the bathroom, because we all know how small urinals become and how hard it is to aim when you're having difficulty standing.

But I slept great.

Progress

How eager we are to grow up, and forget our childishness.

How soon we would like to forget who we were, in the name of who we'll become.

And maybe you stop to think about what you're leaving behind. Maybe it strikes you, for however brief a moment. Maybe everything freezes, for that instant.

And then life throws another punch at you, and you'd better be ready.

So when will it all stop? Do we ever get to call the whole thing off? Do we ever get to say, "Look God, just give me five damned minutes without having to think about where I have to go afterwards, ok?"

It's not His fault, I guess.

Reap what you sow. Goes around comes around. Maybe you never made time for other people. Or, maybe you always made time for other people. Either way, maybe no one will make time for you.

Existence is selfish. The urge to cling to life. To get everything that's coming to you. Socialism doesn't work because it violates the basic nature of man.

Progress.

New is better than old. What you might have will always be better than what you had. How can you beat possibility? How can memory stand up to hope, however distorted or misplaced they might be, respectively?

The past, a memory. The present, a reality. But the future...

... the darkness full of dreams yet to come.

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Live to see the end.