Editors' Note

by Annette Denekas , Lauren Budd and May Mansour | 11/8/17 2:00am

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Source: The Dartmouth

Annette: I first met Lauren at an “Incoming Student Meet-Up” in Falmouth, Maine during our senior year of high school. Ten of us awkward, nervous students stood around in a circle attempting small talk, while our parents hovered, watching us eagerly but trying to look discrete. LB18 and I smiled at each other and exchanged a few friendly words. I left the barbeque thinking, “Wow, the girl Lauren from Bangor in the yellow dress seems nice!” Apparently Lauren, on the other hand, left the gathering with an assumption that I was slightly “stuck-up,” and after stalking me on Facebook that night, supposedly concluded that we would not be friends at Dartmouth. Guess I need to work on my first impressions.

Soon after arriving on campus, May and I met at our first (and last) Fahey 3 floor meeting. All I knew was that she had pretty, dark hair, lived down the hall from me and was from New Jersey. Aside from the short “Hi, how are you?”s we exchanged throughout the year on our treks to the bathroom, we never really interacted. I saw her occasionally at Dartbeat meetings as she complained about her reporting calls for the weekly “Blotter.”

Yet here the three of us are as seniors, texting non-stop every day for the past two terms, complaining to each other, accumulating endless inside jokes, eating sad Collis takeout dinners, slashing Oxford commas, posting horrible slow-zoom videos of each other on our snapchat stories, teasing Ray Lu ’18, threatening to quit our jobs, complaining (did I say that already?), listening to LB’s angry rants and loving every (well, almost every) minute of it. Considering that we are all so VERY different from one another, I am truly shocked — but incredibly grateful — that MayMay and LB are two of my closest friends. I would not have traded this experience for anything, and no, that is actually NOT a lie!

Lauren: When I first joined the news section of The D my freshman fall, I turned to the near-stranger sitting next to me in the training session and announced in a stage whisper that I would be quitting before the end of the term. Smash cut to today, three years later, during my senior fall, having been officially freed from my paper chains after three years of begging to be fired. The past few years under the fluorescent lights of Robinson Hall have passed in a blur of sad dinners, irate blitzes (fielded), irate blitzes (sent), deleted Oxford commas and termly scandal after termly scandal. It is with a heavy heart that I must admit that the extracurricular activity I complained about the most ended up forging bonds between me and some of the best friends I’ve met at Dartmouth. I must concede that I had a laugh or two in the breaths between whines. I got to meet presidential candidate and meme Jeb Bush, stay ahead of campus gossip before it spread across the bubble and even sent and received a few flitzes based on bylines. I may have slept through most of my Wednesday 9L’s during my junior fall, but I will miss my long nights in Robo, basking in the light of the computer screen and volleying chirps across the room. To the three loyal readers of this editor’s note (Kelsey, Annette’s mom and intrepid EIC Ray Lu ’18), try not to miss my dispatches too much. If you ever need me, just look in a mirror and say “Is it okay if this story comes in a little late?” three times and I’ll pop up behind you to tell you off, with gusto.

May: By a single account Tuesdays are the best “on nights.” Considering I spend most Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays curled up in Sherman Art Library (affectionately termed “Shart” by our photo editor) or in my bed, face four inches deep in a clay mask, watching “Big Mouth,” it is doubtful that changeover will do much for my social life. I’ve worked for the D since my freshman year and since then, Lauren and I have made at least seventeen pacts that we would quit. (Flashback to the night that Lauren met me in Chelsea and spent the night toasting to “F–ck the D!!!!!” and “Freedom!!!!!!”) But we’re still here, four years later, and I’ve procrastinated writing this note for four hours just so I didn’t have to leave the office. My time here has singlehandedly been my most formative experience at Dartmouth and as I look around the room at Annette and Lauren (and Erin and Ray, who are currently debating the aesthetics of DDS food packaging) I can’t help but think how I lucky I am to know and work with these people. I spend 100 percent of my time trying to canonize Annette and screaming at Lauren to stop begging for the sweet release of death every time Ray asks for a fact check — and I can’t imagine a better time. I don’t know what I’ll do on my Tuesday nights from now on, but I know that these are my people. And I think that’s enough.