So, what have I learned so far? Idealism is good. Fraternities are good. Drinking isn't necessarily good, but it isn't up to somebody else to decide that for me. DDS is schweet. Blitzmail is bad (my final victory in this battle: my house's blitzmail doesn't work! You must call me!).
Sketchiness is hilarious and also bad (y'know, it's really funny that I don't use the word "sketchy" anymore, but now I just substitute words like "shady," "shifty" or "weird" to convey the same ideas, so maybe I'm just a very opinionated and prejudiced person who is blaming particular words for my own personality flaws).
I've learned that I could care less who our president and dean of the College are. I've learned that it is in fact possible to be in a relationship at Dartmouth. I have confirmed my distaste for all things Long Island (not people, mind you, just the island itself). I've found that even Ivy League professors will let you kiss their butts and get away with it.
I've learned that "it's just what you do," "it's what everyone does" and "that's just how it is" are the worst excuses I've ever heard. I've learned to see that there is more to people than the conclusions I draw from my limited experiences with them. I've learned that I am different, not necessarily in that unique, special way that everyone really hopes they are, but in that odd, somewhat disturbing way that makes people say, "that Kevan guy doesn't seem to get it." I've learned that family is the best thing I have going for me. I've learned that you can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose.
What other knowledge do I have that I can share with you? I dunno. No matter what I've learned so far, I guess the truth is that I don't know anything. Maybe I'll just keep writing about boring campus politics and annoying policies that no one will care about in three years anyway. Or maybe I'll write fluff. I'll wow you with my descriptions of the true beauty of life and the simple wonderfulness of it all.
So, I've decided that I'll just tell a little story. It happened on my way home for Christmas on the train. A grandma and her two granddaughters boarded in New York, bound for D.C. The grandmother was returning the kids to their parents after a fun-filled weekend.
But the youngest girl, about age four, had an earache. Of course, fate conspired so that they would sit across the aisle from me, and I got to hear every shattering wail put out by this child as she writhed in pain on the seat across from me. She tried to sleep on the ear, so that the fluid would drain out, but she couldn't stand the pain. She tried icing it, but it wouldn't make the pain go away, so she more or less cried all the way to Baltimore.
Her grandmother, a very together and conscientious woman, tried to shut the child up by using the tried and true method of logic on a child screaming in pain. "What are you helping with all this screaming?" she would hiss.
The girl could only respond with sobs of "I can't help it!", "Why won't it stop?" and "I want my mommy!" between her heaving gasps for air that everyone remembers from when we would cry so hard that we had nothing left and could only suck for air and try to remember why we were crying.
The grandmother finally just abandoned her plan and sat back down in her seat. At this point, the other sister, who looked about 12 or 13, finally sat down with the girl and started reading the complimentary skiing catalog that is so gripping and interesting I read it twice during the 11 hour ride, fearing I might have missed some morsel of Amtrak wisdom the first time.
Anyway, the sister started pointing to stuff and saying that it looks like "poopy." This piqued the child's interest. Never mind that the sister was pointing to a ski slope, it was still pretty funny. The sister caught on and went through the whole catalog calling everything in sight "poopy," and the little girl absolutely forgot about her ear and chuckled with her sister all the way to D.C. Problem solved. Poopy saves the day yet again.
It was at this point that a young college lady who had been on the train ever since I had boarded in White River Junction through all the wailing was returning to her seat from the bathroom and passed our seats during one of the little girl's happy squeals (I mean, in all honesty, what is funnier than poopy?), and she promptly turned around and leaned down over the girl and said "Could you stop it?"
The girl said "What?" and this lady goes "I want you to shut up." The Grandma convulses in clear shock and opens her mouth but nothing comes out. The girl just goes "okay." Then when she's walking away, the girl leans out into the aisle and shouts "You're POOOOOOPYYYY!" after the witch.
Everyone started laughing and the lady just sat back down and returned to being self-important. I laughed just a little bit louder than I needed to.
