Oh Too Lucky
The Class of 2002 is quietly ushering out an era of yesterday, and is blindly stepping into an unknown era of tomorrow. Lately it seems that every security we enjoyed and counted on over the last decade has quickly faded into a darkness of uncertainty. I can't order a Turkey Club with LT-white-toast-mayo after my 12 class at the Hop anymore, nor can I drink Milwaukee's Best after 12 at my house. I am not able to take a class in Silsby without jackhammers and nail-guns blaring in the distance. Nor can I relax in my 134- square-foot single on a Friday night due to the adjacent self proclaimed '05 "Party Palace" watching "The Matrix" in slow motion at full volume with their UGA group because they have nowhere else to be. I can no longer place a stock trade in the morning before class and come back to see that I have made another 10 percent on an Internet firm I can hardly pronounce. Nor can I play a casual round at the now closed Hanover Country Club and dream of landing that big-time job. I can say as a "super" senior that after one Chickenman sub, one dorm party and one anemic career fair, we used to have it good.