Like most people, I'm sure I've spent many a day feeling like the world's biggest idiot. Consistently falling down, saying dumb things and embarrassing myself, I'd actually say I'm one of the world's biggest idiots. And for a long time, I didn't think anyone at Dartmouth could rival my stupidity.
Then I met Nell. The first encounter I had with her was in a creative writing class, in which she was reading a poem -- a poem laden with poetical allusions and filled with brilliant beautiful phrases -- in a most amazing voice. Her "poetry voice," as I now know it.
I couldn't have been more intimidated by this girl with the cool outfit, who was basically singing words across the classroom, while others watched and listened with admiration. But when I realized how unbelievably hilarious the "poetry voice" can make dumb, everyday comments sound, I knew that I'd found a companion in duncery.
Nell and I spent the fall on an English FSP in Glasgow, Scotland, where we became friends over several shared experiences: throwing up in public, falling down in public, bursting into tears in public, laughing at inappropriate times (in public) and getting turned down by cabdrivers (in public).
When we flew to Italy together (via Frankfurt, Germany), Nell and I reached our peak of idiocy. Sitting on the plane, occupying whatever row they'd stuck us in, we proceeded to make a scene on all of the flights of the trip. When the first plane broke down mid-flight, I woke up to Nell's sobbing and hyperventilating. So for the following flights, while Nell breathed into her hyperventilation bag, as we called it, I read books aloud to her, annoying all surrounding passengers.
But I mustn't give Nell all of the idiocy credit for the trip; I did manage to throw up over eight times on the way back to Scotland, due both to nerves as well as to our layover party in Frankfurt. Did you know they give problem flyers lots of free champagne to take off the plane with them? And idiots, of course, drink it all.
While wandering around Europe together, Nell and I bought stupid umbrellas, lots of dumb gifts for our fellow FSPers, and ridiculous furry hats (worn just to freak out the Scottish kids in the dorm). We walked to all of our classes together, as Nell panicked that we would be five minutes early, and I panicked that we'd be five minutes late. We were usually running back from emergency chocolate muffin stops. Idiots.
But sadly, the United States is not as peppered with chocolate muffin stores, and Nell and I no longer share the exact same schedule. While I was here last term, Nell was in New York, playing businesswoman. Thus, I spent the winter forced to wander alone, hoping no one would notice the bubble surrounding me, keeping me from the world of sanity.
And I'm really not good at fending for myself against those sane people out there. Among other things, I managed to call a really good professor "bogus." To her face. In public.
Such a disaster really wouldn't have been as tragic had Nell been there to laugh and make me laugh, to remind me that there are worse things than dooming myself to poor standing in a required course. Nell would have been there to whack me when I responded to the professor's saying, "This mechanical pencil's bogus," with an emphatic, "No, you're bogus."
Nell would have reined me in, sensing the oncoming idiocy. With laughter, I would have had the guts to apologize like a normal person, to admit to my moronic tendencies. But without it and without my partner in dumb, I was left in the bubble of insanity all alone, too freaked out to recover.
But now it's spring, and the dunces are back in business, baby. To be sure, we're making the most of it. We're even taking the same 10A and 2A, allowing us to spend two days a week submerged in craziness, humiliating ourselves and provoking weird looks on the faces of people we see. Laughing the whole time.
Mostly, though, we like to just sit around, eat and watch TV. I mean, that's what idiots do best. We decompress from our tough days spent in the real world and wind down, hoping to reemerge as normal as possible. But walking together, we're happy. When we trip, we've got someone right there to pick us up.
For you see, not much is worse than being an idiot when you're all alone. But at the same time, not much is better than being an idiot with a good friend at your side.
