Corvallis Bound (Part 2)

The wooden double doors were heavy and dark, like a fairyland castle entrance. Unsure of proper frat house etiquette, Lindsay knocked on the doors and a loud, hollow sound resounded through what sounded like a narrow hallway.

No one answered. It was, after all, the middle of the morning. Presumably people were in class.

She knocked again, this time more insistently. I remember the white of her knuckles pressed against the deep grain of the wood and how they stood out against the chilly, wet air. After about ninety seconds, a blonde haired, blue-eyed strapping young man came to the door. It swung open wide on its hinges and gently creaked.

“What’s up?” he asked sleepily.

“Is Jeff around?” Lindsay asked slowly. I remember watching her as we entered this unfamiliar territory together. Around the city, we were a team – we knew what we wanted, where to get it, and whom we wanted to be with. We had our fantasy party bubble and had no reason to burst it. But Super Skip Day in Corvallis was different. I was curious to see how Lindsay would behave around her coveted boyfriend, how he would respond to our surprise visit, and what the inside of a frat house was like anyway.

Within an hour, we had located Jeff on campus and the two lovebirds went for a walk across the campus greens. I skirted off, preferring to find my own way around and tactfully give them their privacy. I wondered back to the frat house and invited myself in. This time, no one was around so I perused the dining hall, bulletin board, and photo wall. At one point a young woman in a hot pink tank top and flare bottom jeans careened down the stairs, around the corner, and down the long hallway to the wooden doors. She sobbed recklessly and held her face in her hands. The doors slammed firmly behind her.

When all was said and done, Lindsay and I found our selves back in Portland and hustling through the metal school doors just in time for seventh period. I had glimpsed a small part of the mysterious college world and decided it was unbedazzled. Snobbishly, I remember being happy about my enrollment in a private college and thought to myself that the town would be much smaller, the campus greener, and the number of students less daunting. When I got home Mom asked how my day at school was.

“Oh, alright,” I sighed.

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