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Time warp.

2004-10-19 - 9:46 a.m.

Today, for the first time since I moved back to Ottawa in ’98, I am going to be back on the campus of my undergrad university. This time, I’ll be one of those old people dressed up and in a power position – I’m interviewing co-op students for a job here. I was positively giddy at the thought of bringing my alumni card to get into the campus pub but alas, I forgot it at home and won’t have time to go and get it before I leave. I remembered my toothbrush, which I can replace for a couple of bucks, but I forgot the card that would have let me in to the Bombshelter. *sigh* Oh well, maybe if I rattle off my student number they’ll take my word for it.

Why do I remember my student number anyway? I wouldn’t have a clue what my number was where I went for grad school, but my undergrad from 9 years ago? Right there baby.

To be honest, I’m a bit nervous about going back. I loved my time there and I know that it won’t be the same; I won’t know anyone and the campus will be teeming with people who look like children to me now. If I make it into the pub, I foresee the thought “Are these people really old enough to be in a bar?” forming unbidden.

Gone are the days of doing crazy stuff in residence, playing endless games of briscola, bridge and euchre in the Chem and Math lounges, staying up all night snarfing down pilfered donuts and coffee and talking with friends, dragging my bleary ass to midterms, etc. I bet they no longer have the dollar shooter wheel at Fed Hall. I wonder if they still block off the drains and silicone plywood panels to the doorframes to turn shower rooms into enormous hot tubs in Village I?


Edited to add: If you live in the U.S. and are thinking of not voting, go read this. Sars, as usual, kicks ass.

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