All those times people say, oh-so-reassuringly, "Relax, you'll never see any of these people again," they are lying to you. They may not know it, but they are.
My life exists to prove this.
7 years ago (holy hell), I headed off to college. As I was discussing my plans with a friend of mine, she perked up. "Really? Scripps?" she asked, "That's so funny. I think Rayne is going there too!" And, indeed, she was. Rayne was a classmate of mine in middle school.
In middle school, in Taiwan.
In my teeny, tiny British middle school in Taipei. 30 students in the whole grade, and one of them was going to be at Scripps, a teeny, tiny liberal arts college in Southern California. What were the odds?
It was great. I like Rayne, and she was incredibly helpful when I was stuck on my Chinese homework. She actually lived upstairs from me during our Sophomore year, and I would stroll back from her room humming "It's a small world" under my breath.
So that was weird, but life is weird, right?
Then, several years later, I was visiting a friends in England (in fact, one of them was the same friend who told me about Rayne coming to Scripps). We were discussing plans for the evening, and I was actively resisting going dancing. "I don't want to," I whined. "I'll look ridiculous!" Anna shook her head. "Why do you care? You'll never see any of these people ever again." I considered her point. Yes, I would look like a fool, but she was right. The likelihood of me ever meeting any of these people in the future was miniscule. Plus, even if I DID see one of them again, we would certainly never remember each other. And Anna and Eesa had seen me do enough stupid things; a little embarrassing dancing was unlikely to ruin a friendship that had begun in 7th grade.
So, ok. I acquiesced.
We fancied ourselves up, and headed to Cindy's, one of several clubs in Cambridge. As we entered the club, we took stock of our surroundings. The slightly sticky carpet, sweetness of alcohol in the area, the flurry of movement from our fellow uninhibited dancers... and a swirl of remarkably familiar dark red hair. Erin?
Erin had been my host when I had been a prospective student at Scripps. That year, she actually lived right down the hall from me. We greeted each other with an excited hug, and with repeated gasping in amazement. What was she doing there? What was I doing there?
Yep, I would definitely be seeing her again.
7 years ago (holy hell), I headed off to college. As I was discussing my plans with a friend of mine, she perked up. "Really? Scripps?" she asked, "That's so funny. I think Rayne is going there too!" And, indeed, she was. Rayne was a classmate of mine in middle school.
In middle school, in Taiwan.
In my teeny, tiny British middle school in Taipei. 30 students in the whole grade, and one of them was going to be at Scripps, a teeny, tiny liberal arts college in Southern California. What were the odds?
It was great. I like Rayne, and she was incredibly helpful when I was stuck on my Chinese homework. She actually lived upstairs from me during our Sophomore year, and I would stroll back from her room humming "It's a small world" under my breath.
So that was weird, but life is weird, right?
Then, several years later, I was visiting a friends in England (in fact, one of them was the same friend who told me about Rayne coming to Scripps). We were discussing plans for the evening, and I was actively resisting going dancing. "I don't want to," I whined. "I'll look ridiculous!" Anna shook her head. "Why do you care? You'll never see any of these people ever again." I considered her point. Yes, I would look like a fool, but she was right. The likelihood of me ever meeting any of these people in the future was miniscule. Plus, even if I DID see one of them again, we would certainly never remember each other. And Anna and Eesa had seen me do enough stupid things; a little embarrassing dancing was unlikely to ruin a friendship that had begun in 7th grade.
So, ok. I acquiesced.
We fancied ourselves up, and headed to Cindy's, one of several clubs in Cambridge. As we entered the club, we took stock of our surroundings. The slightly sticky carpet, sweetness of alcohol in the area, the flurry of movement from our fellow uninhibited dancers... and a swirl of remarkably familiar dark red hair. Erin?
Erin had been my host when I had been a prospective student at Scripps. That year, she actually lived right down the hall from me. We greeted each other with an excited hug, and with repeated gasping in amazement. What was she doing there? What was I doing there?
Yep, I would definitely be seeing her again.
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