6:51pm: I am startled out of a deep slumber. The hazy surroundings start to focus. I'm in Collis. How could I have fallen asleep while reading my fascinating religion assignment? It has been a long week. At least I'll be spending the weekend in Boston.
And then it dawns on me. I am supposed to meet my friends at A-Lot at 7. I can't even make it back to my room to get my stuff by 7. The deal was to be on the road by 7:01. Stragglers will be left behind. My only hope is that my friends have not already left their rooms.
Mistake 1: I decide to blitz them from the Collis public computer.
Mistake 2: I'm not worried when I discover a number of people already in line for the computer. They are probably in just as dire a situation as I am. They'll hurry.
6:53 p.m.: I know it has only been two minutes, but the line hasn't moved. I tap my fingers on the counter. I tap them a little harder. The person using the computer doesn't notice. I start hobbling from foot to foot, sighing loudly, conspicuously glancing at my watch. Finally, she looks up and surveys the line. I am making as evident a display of anxiety as possible. She barely takes it into consideration before she guiltily turns her attention back to the computer.
Mistake 3: I see her reach for the mouse. Finally! She's going to sign off.
Wrong. I notice that rather than one click, she makes two. She has the audacity to be having a BlitzMail conversation!
By now I am absolutely livid. Does no one else mind? Two people ahead of me are pleasantly chatting. In front of them, someone else casually skims The D. Another person seems to have found some sort of amusement in reading the off-campus telephone directory. What is wrong with the world?
Mistake 4: I am going to relinquish my spot in the line to call my friends instead.
6:55 p.m.: There is a girl already on the phone. Her conversation won't be short. In fact, she is beginning to sound very much like the woman in the movie, "Before Midnight," who babbles into the receiver, "I know that's what you call it, but you don't actually blow...."" giggle, giggle.
I have an alternative. I pat down the seams of my jeans, empty out my bookbag, search my shoe until I am finally able to produce a coin. Pay phone time.
6:57 p.m.: My first stroke of good luck occurs when I find the public phone not in use.
Mistake 5: As my first course of action, I don't pick up the receiver or start dialing. Rather, I pose my fingers as if above a keyboard, and wonder why this dumb phone doesn't have a Mac nearby.
Maybe I am ignorant, but I was under the impression that computers and phones go hand in hand. Am I expected to know my best friend's phone number? I know every one of the nicknames in her DND entry, but without the Look Up A Name command on BlitzMail, I am clueless. If someone told me her number was 911, I'd believe it.
6:58 p.m.: Back up at the front desk there is only one person in line, but I know better than to be hopeful.
I suppose that only people at a pretentious Ivy League institution would regard the Mouse-Dependent computer users as inferiors, but I'm telling you.....
I don't care if you highlight the Sign On command rather than hitting open apple-backslash, but if you use one of the public computers you should understand that very few of them actually have working mouses (mice?). I suggest you learn about the tab key , apple-R, and apple-M so that you don't waste time trying to coax the stubborn mouse a millimeter or two.
Mistake 6: I notice by sneaking a peak over her shoulder that she has received no new messages. Wonderful. I still have 42 seconds to reach my friends.
No such luck. She knows that I just saw her sign on. Signing off immediately would be admitting that no one likes her. She drags the mouse, with agonizing difficulty, over to the compose icon, and pretends that she signed on for the sole purpose of sending a blitz.
What is she trying to prove? There's nothing wrong with signing on to an empty inbox and signing right back off . I'd thank her for it. In fact, I'd love her for it. In a way that her friends, if she had any, never could.
Mistake 7: I decide to lean over her shoulder and read her blitz as she writes it so she'll refrain making it too long or personal.
I end up learning a lot more about this person than I ever wanted to know.
7:01 p.m.: I sign on and receive fourteen new, but empty, messages, all with subject headings like, "where are you?", "come over", "we're leaving", and "buh-bye."
Mistake 8: I figure that's ok. I'll just use the weekend ahead of me to start studying.
