The countdown hits zero, and I step off the Dartmouth Coach, inhaling a good first whiff of that fabled Big Green air. I smell pine trees and freshly trimmed grass, as expected, but sense another thing entirely raging '17 hormones and their hopeful chatter that the College has raised the enrollment cap for that introductory economics class. I already can't wait to start my weekend.
An overeager prospie approaches me and introduces himself, but I forget his name immediately. I think he says Alex, so I just go with it. He offers to show me the way to registration at "Collis Common Ground" and gregariously introduces himself to nine people on the walk over. I can tell that he'll be my more outgoing counterpart and that I'll absentmindedly latch on to him like a social parasite, hoping he doesn't notice my inability to form coherent thoughts when talking to others. We enter the building, and it's swarming with innocent baby-faced '17s whose collective awkwardness rivals only my own. If the types of handshakes I receive are at all indicative of the diversity here, I know that I'll be questioning my identity in no time. Prospective '17s either whisper their names or scream right in my face, every introduction reflecting some type of genuine excitement and deep-seated anxiety.
Words are exchanged.
"Hi!" (Exchange of names, etc.)
"What other schools are you between?"
"Harvard and Yale."
"Oh. Weather's good for spring."
"Okay."
I can't wait to do this 600 more times.
After being greeted with delicious warm apple cider in Common Ground I hope I can get that for free more often my new friend Alex and I join a group on the Green for a rousing game of "Wah" led by an unassumingly dressed upperclassman in jeans. I guess jeans are okay. That'll save me a $500 J. Crew shopping spree. Thanks, physically fit older guy.
Alex and I gather with some other baby-faced '17s and spend much of the day exploring campus. We walk into Baker-Berry Library, where we are greeted by some ecstatic upperclassmen who can't wait to show us the "Harry Potter Room." The weather is nice enough that we don't want to be cooped up inside all day, so we return to the Green for some quick frisbee before dispersing to the River.
I'm struck by the campus's pristine beauty every exterior surface seems to be covered with AstroTurf and how every upperclassman smiles as often as they greet me, which seems to be every few steps. Shortly thereafter we make our way back to the heart of campus, as we have a tight schedule to follow. Our first stop: the activities fair.
The fact that Dartmouth holds this fair in a basketball arena intimidates me, but I decide that buying a pair of sweatpants will be a quick fix. I also notice that people here prefer neon jumpsuits to typical spring gear. I ask one of the upperclassmen where he got his, and instead of answering he just hands me a sign-up sheet. It seems like every one of these organizations is eager enough for members that I should be able to try out every new thing I want during the fall, from fishing to the circus. I can't imagine them rejecting anybody, what with all of this wonderful enthusiasm for their respective activities and their emphases on "no experience necessary."
Alex and I head over to the official Class of 2017 introduction, led by a woman named Carol Folt. Her position at the College is very unclear, as she continually oscillates between "Interim President," "President" and sometimes just "Carol."
Her speech is interesting enough, but I spend most of my time comparing SAT scores with Alex and some surrounding baby-faces. Walking out, I notice bulletin boards littered with "Welcome home '17s," "'17s are the bee's knees," and others still being tacked to the wall by smiling upperclassmen laughing and hugging each other. I sneeze (I'm allergic to glitter) and note that social prowess here is directly related to one's level of enthusiasm. With a skip in my step, I run and catch up to Alex.
After the speech, we go to dinner, noting the diverse food options the "Class of 1953 Commons" offers. We agree that we could see ourselves punctuating each meal with four chocolate chip cookies. To further assert my maturity, I plan on heading to the party tonight in Sarner Underground, which is perfect since I heard it doubles as a study and a social space I can study for Monday's test until the lights go out, after which I can show off the dance moves I learned on YouTube in preparation for this weekend.
The next morning I get back on the coach to return home. Before the doors close, I look behind me one last time at the wonderful place I'm leaving behind. Dartmouth College my new home.
