Note: This column, while “hilarious,” was rejected by the editors and was never printed.
1. You wake up. Your very favorite section in the whole world starts in thirty minutes. You notice a glass of water by your bed. You also notice that your brain is throbbing and someone seemed to have lined your mouth with cotton while you were sleeping. If you hit snooze, go to number 2. If you get out of bed, go to number 3.
2. You hit snooze, fall asleep, and wake up nine minutes later. You were dreaming that you were playing Monopoly with Sam Donaldson, you think. If you hit snooze again, go to number 6. If you get out of bed, go to number 3.
3. You roll out of bed to get ready for the day. Yesterday’s outfit, laid out on the floor, is ready to go. If you decide to take a shower, go to number 4. If you head straight for class, go to number 5.
4. You’re in the shower. It’s hot. Then it’s cold. It stays cold for a while, then it gets hot. Then it’s cold again. You wait for it to get hot but it doesn’t so you get pissed and start yelling and throwing soap. When you get out of the shower, you realize that your tantrum has netted nothing but a pair of thoroughly soaked shoes on the bathroom floor. Looks like you’re going to have to wear your high school bobos instead. Nobody in your entryway feels sorry for you, though, and as you head out the door for class five minutes later, you swear that you hear the guy across the hall from you mutter under his breath, “Nice bobos. Attention K-Mart shoppers, attention…” It’s going to be a tough day. Go to paragraph 7.
5. You make it to class, five minutes early, even. Lucky you were wearing your durable rubber-soled perma-grip shoes—you saw people falling all over themselves on the ice on the way to class. Section goes well. You toss in three CP’s (Class Participations), smile twice at The Hot One in the left corner of the room, and manage to write that paragraph-long response in the last five minutes. Lunchtime. Go to number 8.
6. 10:00, 10:09, 10:18, 10:27…as the snooze-manipulated readings on your clock get closer and closer to section time, you can think of more and more reasons why you don’t actually need to go to class today. At some point you hit the alarm-off switch. You next wake at 2:14. Go to number 9.
7. On your way to class you slip and land squarely on your back. You try to get up quickly to save face but slip again, this time face-first into a slush puddle. As you try to steady yourself for the third time, you see six of the coolest-looking people in the world were watching the whole time. “That wouldn’t have happened if they weren’t wearing those corny bobos,” you hear one of them whisper to the other. Go to number 10.
8. As you walk out of section, you notice The Hot One swallowing an aspirin. You still have a slight headache, so you ask for one. The two of you get to talking, and decide to go out to lunch together. The Hot One knows a place—they’ll drive. Go to number 11.
9. You put on some sweats and cook up some ramen. Then you sit in front of the TV. Smoky and the Bandit just came on. You stare transfixed. Go to number 12.
10. You get to section 15 minutes late, soaking wet. Your bobos are squeaking loudly on the floor. A few people are openly and unashamedly laughing at you. You sit in the far corner, hoping to rest a little. But you get called on four times in the next thirty minutes, and each time you wince as you’re forced to respond with the kiss-of-death “Um, I’m a little behind in my reading.” Your TA asks to see you after class. Go to number 13.
11. You, The Hot One, and The Hot One’s Saab head down to New York, where you eat lunch in a charming bistro, then wander around the Village, arm-in-arm. You do a little shopping, and at one of those used clothes stores, The Hot One buys you the nicest sweater you’ve ever seen. The two of you head to The Hot One’s mother’s penthouse on the Upper East Side for dinner. Later that night, as you stare across the table at each other, the wine flowing, candles burning, music playing soft, The Hot One tells you that the moment they saw your awesome shoes in section that day, they knew you had to be theirs.
12. You can’t help but shed a little tear when you see Burt Reynolds head off into the fading sun after outsmarting that fat old Smoky for the last time. You’re just about to turn off the TV when the Police Academy Marathon comes on: all six of them, uncut and uninterrupted. You heat up another Ramen Pride and dig yourself a little deeper into the couch.
13. After class it’s just you and your TA. “I’m going to fail you,” the TA says, breathing onion-smattered plaque-breath into your face, “Unless you agree to spend this weekend with me and my friends. We’re going to be doing some review sessions, maybe a few party games. I was going to fail you outright, but when I saw how neat your shoes are, I realized that deep down, you’re just like us.”