Whilecanoeing down the river this past weekend, the hot sun burning my exposed shoulders, I discovered yet another form of resilience exhibited by Dartmouth students.
After all, while all of our friends from home are busy relaxing, working interesting jobs in the city, or bumming around at Myrtle Beach, we tenacious Dartmouth students are sitting in hot classrooms trying to figure out which dining hall to eat dinner at tonight, Food Court or Food Court.
But Dartmouth students are not to be outdone by our friends at home who are living it up. This is a summer for bonding;this is a summer to grow and to remember. And that which is ostensibly not here (for example, the beach), we will create.
This sense of survival is unique to summer students and it manifests itself at the docks in the river. I like to refer to thisphenomenon as "Beverly Hills 03755."
Allow me to explain.
I was hot and tired from canoeing and this tempted me to go for a dip. I ventured down to the platform which is covered with synthetic indoor-outdoor grass carpeting.I was amazed at what I observed.
Dartmouth had actually managed to transport the beach onto our little green carpeting in the Connecticut River. I could almost hear the waves and feel the hot sand between my toes.
Quickly, I snapped out of it. Of course there was no sand;certainly there were no waves to speak of, except for those being made by the men throwing around a beach ball in the water.
But the beach scene was pervasive and distinct. Dartmouth students had indeed succeeded in adding a little bit more to the two inches of New Hampshire shoreline.
At Beverly Hills 03755, there are a few guidelines. First, women must wear bikinis. I heard later that there was some confusion with this rule, so let me clarify -- bikini to the docks, speedo to the rope swing.
Second, men must flex their biceps when checking the time on their waterproof watches. This is best done while standing, preferably in the middle of the green carpet-grass.
The third rule has two parts.
Part A: Getting In the Water. There is no formal or correct way to Get In, but there are a few suggested methods.
If you are a woman, you may want to test the temperature of the water with your toe. If it is too chilly, sit on the edge and let your feet dangle to get used to the cold. Otherwise, diving gracefully is the next logical step. Don't forget to point those toes.
For a man, forget the test. It is unnecessary. Just jump in, cannonball style. A big splash is always the key.
Part B: Getting Out, posed somewhat of a problem for my friend and I. We quickly discovered, after becoming tired of trying to find the warmest warm pocket in the river water, that in order to Get Out, one must climb The Ladder.
There is more than one ladder, but each deserves capitalization. The guidelines to using The Ladder are as follows.
Women, suck in your stomach (we can't have any of that femaleness displayed) and walk delicately up the ladder, pausing on the third step to slick back unruly strands of hair. Pointing toes may be applicable here as well.
Men, use your upper body strength to propel yourself onto the ladder steps, pausing also at the third step, and then proceed to the nearest dog in need of petting. Naturally, dogs are allowed -- would it truly be Dartmouth without free roaming dogs?
Beverly Hills 03755. The beach scene at Dartmouth is simultaneously hilarious and tragic.
The mere fact of our ability to create our own Fort Lauderdale, Dartmouth-ized, is simply another demonstration of the endless ingenuity of our classmates. But this is summer and it is a time for bonding, meeting new people and pushing our campus to the limits of community. We are here taking classes while the rest of our generation is taking a break. That, if nothing else, makes us unique.
So let's make our summer experience unique because unquestionably, a tired old beach scene does nothing to complement the richness of our community.
In the long run, it truly does not matter whether we wear bikinis or speedos.
It just matters that the river calls our names on a hot summer afternoon. It simply matters that the green carpeted docks belong to everyone, and that the water captures our minds and beckons our bodies regardless of who we are.
