Fresh Meat

In the fall of 1986, as the leaves turned brilliant shades of amber and rusty red, I meticulously packed my belongings into the burgundy luggage my parents gave me for high school graduation. I filled each bag with memories from my childhood home, bittersweet tokens of a life that was about to change dramatically. The excitement buzzed in the air like a crackling wire, blending seamlessly with the nervous knots forming in my stomach. My parents hauled the packed boxes and luggage down the stairs, their faces a mix of pride and poignant melancholy, struggling to embrace the transition from full-time caretakers to empty nesters. Eventually, the car was loaded to the brim with everything I thought I needed, from school supplies and clothes to mementos and dreams, each item symbolizing a leap into a future filled with uncertainty and promise at Mount Marty College. As we drove past the ripe fields of the South Dakota landscape towards my new adventure, I felt the weight of both expectation and nostalgia pressing down on me, knowing that this was the start of a new chapter in our lives, forever altering our family’s tapestry as I ventured into independence.

When my parents and I arrived at MMC, the sense of excitement buzzed in the air, mingling with the warm scent of freshly cut grass wafting from the lawn of Corby Hall. We parked in front of the brown and tan building, and the moment we stepped out of the car, a group of enthusiastic upperclassmen approached, their friendly smiles and guiding presence instantly putting us at ease. They wasted no time assisting us, expertly unloading our bags and boxes with a cheerful camaraderie that spoke volumes of the community spirit at the small college. Their lighthearted banter and anecdotes about campus life created an inviting atmosphere, making me feel as if I were not just arriving as a newcomer but stepping into a vibrant family. As we made our way toward the entrance, I felt an exhilarating blend of nervousness and anticipation, thrilled at the prospect of forging new friendships and embarking on this exciting chapter of my life.

I strode into the bustling entrance of my new dormitory with a mix of excitement and trepidation surging within me. The upperclassmen, exuding a charming blend of assertiveness and fellowship, swiftly guided me towards my room on the second floor, their laughter and chatter echoing off the walls. The corridor was brimming with life, adorned with colorful bulletin boards and the sounds of new friendships forming. Upon reaching my door, I gazed at the room—it’s white, brick walls waiting to be personalized. The desk stood proudly along the left wall, a blank canvas promising to be the site of countless study sessions and creative bursts. Closets lined the same wall, providing ample storage for my belongings. To my right, I discovered the inviting sight of two twin beds, perfectly set for shared late-night conversations and whispered secrets. Nestled to the right was a modest sink, a practical touch that ensured late-night teeth brushing and early morning routines would be a breeze. As the upperclassmen left me with a friendly wave, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging wash over me—this was not just a room; it was the beginning of my college adventure and a place where memories were destined to unfold.

Once the last box was delivered to my room and we finished hugging, my parents bid farewell to me, leaving me to confront the aftermath of my move alone. Standing amid the clutter of my chaotic room, filled with boxes and strewn belongings, I was hit by a wave of melancholy. As I started to go through my luggage, I realized that the bag with all my underwear and bras was missing. A sense of panic engulfed me as I searched every nook and cranny in my room, hoping it was just misplaced. When my efforts proved fruitless, it struck me: during the hectic process of loading and unloading, they must have unintentionally left it in Ethan. This dilemma would serve as my first opportunity to tackle a problem independently as an adult.

With no underwear except for what I was wearing, I sheepishly picked up the phone to call my mom, explaining the urgency of my request for her to drive back to Yankton with my forgotten suitcase. As I relayed my predicament, I could almost hear her amusement through the line. Instead of the unconditional rescue I had anticipated, she chuckled and suggested I simply rinse out my last surviving pair in the bathroom sink. "Rinse-y rinse-y" she taunted with a laugh, "and I will mail your underwear tomorrow." While her suggestion felt harsh in the moment, it also reflected her resourcefulness; a trait I had inherited but rarely acknowledged. As I hung up, part of me was grateful for her pragmatic solution, while another part cringed at the thought of sleeping without underwear until the rest arrived in the mail. Ultimately, her response solidified the absurdities of my newfound adulthood.

That first night at college was a whirlwind of emotions and unexpected experiences that I’ll never forget. As I settled into my new room, the stark reality of my surroundings hit me—walls lined with stark white paint, a well-used bed that squeaked under the weight of my anxiety, and unwashed sheets that felt crisp and starchy. To add to the discomfort, I was bare under my pajamas while today's underwear hung drying. Lying there as dim light gleamed under my door, fully aware of my predicament, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by a sense of vulnerability; the room felt foreign and unwelcoming, contributing to the swell of homesickness that enveloped me. The unfamiliar sounds of laughter and music drifting from nearby dorms only intensified my sense of isolation. I found myself staring at the ceiling, feeling tears prick my eyes as I battled the weight of uncertainty about fitting into this new chapter of my life. Eventually, the emotions cascaded, and despite trying to stifle them, I cried myself to sleep, surrendering to the chaos of the night while dreaming of home.

Waking up the next morning, I groggily climbed out of bed, still enveloped in a haze of uncertainty about the day of orientation that lay ahead. The fluorescent lights flickered hesitantly as I dressed in attire that somehow matched my mixed feelings—half comfortable, half an attempt to impress. Stepping into the bustling hallway, the echoes of laughter and conversations resonated through the air, infusing a sense of excitement and trepidation within me. As I made my way to the food hall, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pancakes and sizzling bacon, beckoning me like a siren song. My heart raced at the thought of my first college breakfast, a rite of passage that promised not just sustenance, but a connection to a new world filled with possibilities. Each step felt monumental; the clang of trays and the chatter of fellow students transformed the daunting atmosphere into a vibrant tapestry of camaraderie and shared experiences. After passing through the food line, I stepped into the cafeteria. I was greeted with a sea of faces, some familiar, others yet to be known, and I realized this was my first taste of college life —a blend of freedom, responsibility, and the uncharted adventure of forging new friendships over shared meals.

Along one wall of the cafeteria stood a bank of beverages to choose from. I grabbed a glass while balancing a food tray piled high with breakfast items—a steaming plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs—and felt a wave of confidence as I filled the glass with 2% milk. However, just as I turned to make my way to an empty table, an unexpected jolt from a passing student sent me off balance. In a heart-stopping moment, I watched as my entire tray flew through the air in a slow-motion ballet before crashing to the floor with a spectacular clang. The split second that followed felt suspended in time, silence enveloping the room as dozens of eyes turned to witness the chaotic scene. Then, to my astonishment, a wave of applause erupted from a table of upperclassmen at the back of the room; they found humor and camaraderie in the mishap, applauding not just the spill but the amusing spectacle of my brief struggle. Although their chants of "fresh meat" and "nicely done, frosh" were entirely humiliating, I felt compelled to bow before guffawing at my complete lack of coordination.

As I gathered my scattered nerves, the upperclassmen beckoned me over, introducing themselves as Cathy, Judy, and Carolyn. Their laughter was infectious, and their playful teasing turned the incident into a rite of passage amongst my peers. They shared stories of their own embarrassing moments, painting a picture of their first days as freshmen full of blunders, confusion, and hilariously orchestrated misadventures.

Seated at their table, I felt an unexpected warmth blossom in my chest. It was more than just a relief from my earlier isolation; it was the realization that I wasn’t alone in navigating this new chapter. As our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated with easy laughter and stories both silly and poignant, I reveled in the realization that the vulnerabilities I endured the previous night were merely steppingstones towards building these new connections.

By the time I finished my meal, the initial pangs of homesickness had lessened. I not only had a group of new friends but also a story to carry with me—one that marked my first stumble toward embracing the unknown. As I packed up to leave, Carolyn unexpectedly tossed her arm around me, grinning. “Don’t worry! We’ve all been there. Just think of it as your initiation.” I laughed, reflecting on how something as small as a mishap could pave the way for new friendships, and instead of dwelling on my lack of undergarments, I found myself excited for what lay ahead.

With a lively bounce in my step, I stepped into the bustling hallway, ready to tackle my first day of college. As I moved through the sea of fellow freshmen, I felt invigorated, ready to take on orientation with newfound confidence. I might have spent the night crying, but today I had turned a mishap into a memorable introduction—a true testament to my blossoming journey into adulthood, where every stumble could lead to laughter, camaraderie, and endless learning. After all, life is built on moments that catch us by surprise, and I was finally ready to embrace every single one.