We were on the number four train heading uptown north of Union Square when a sleeping homeless man at the end of the car rolled on his side, removed his penis from his pants and started to urinate on the floor of the train. My friends and I, 16 at the time, were surprised, but even as the amber wave raced toward us, we remained calm in our seats. Our only reaction was gently tucking our feet out of harms way.
At the next stop we got up and left the car. I have rarely thought of that story over the last two years, but for some reason coming home for my first spring break brought the memory back.
Dartmouth is in the middle of nowhere. I have only met one person at Dartmouth, a fellow freshman, who disagrees, but he is from Maine, which disqualifies him. The feeling of isolation generated by life in Hanover is even more intense for those of us from cities, especially The City -- New York. I have proudly told everyone who I have met that I'm from Brooklyn. However, the handful of times I've returned home, I have felt a little bit out of my element at first.
Admittedly, I have grown accustomed to the comforts of Hanover. A trip home for a Bar Mitzvah in February -- during which I stepped in front of a phalanx of speeding taxis while crossing the street before arriving at my house -- is fair evidence of that. Somebody from The City surely wouldn't do that. Right? Another '09 from The City told me she got off of a subway train over break because it was making a funny noise. Somebody from The City does not even hear noise. Right?
I have realized that when I come home, it takes me a little while to get my bearings. I need to go to the scariest corner on the dirtiest street of Chinatown and eat mystery dumplings; I need to ride the subway late at night and make eye contact with the angriest looking person possible; I need to strike up a conversation with a stranger about something random -- which I did after I watched a guy incorrectly ask a girl if she was pregnant on the subway (the conversation turned into something about the new X-Men costumes). I need to get in cars driven by non English-speakers who don't brake for corners. I need to feel unsafe and out of my element. I need to do the things that can't be done in Hanover where I am always greeted with a smile and feel secure.
My point is Dartmouth provides us with certain comforts and a sense of security that allows us to focus on our work and have the best time possible. The price we pay for our education is 30 weeks a year in the woods, not to mention enough money to keep a small family above the poverty line. But, after all is there not something that we are losing in our cloister? Dartmouth is making us soft. And shouldn't that bother us? After all, we are at Dartmouth to grow, learn and reach our potential.
Some might think that living in The City makes you unhealthily confident and brave. Well, that could be, but couldn't it also be argued that Hanover is making us detrimentally comfortable and unaware of our surroundings? I was every bit as excited to return to Hanover as I was to go home and that is how I know that I'm happy at Dartmouth.
But, after a few days of Spring term, all of us city-dwellers will get into and feel comfortable with the pattern of having seen most people before, knowing what is in our food at every meal, making eye contact with whomever whenever, carrying our laptops under our arms at all hours of the day and not having to deal with stepping in other people's urine -- okay strike that last one. And we will never know that our urban exoskeleton of awareness has gone away or that we're missing anything until our next trip home.
My only hope is that next time I am back in The City, I will reluctantly remember to look both ways when crossing the street, if for no other reason than to keep blood off of my Dartmouth sweatshirt.
