all is optional

It’s 5 p.m. on an ordinary Wednesday and your feet shuffle quickly down Nassau Street. There are freshmen to meet. “Sarah Morris, I’m here,” you yell from down the hall.

“Oh, Neelofer, remember to get some sleep tonight,” she says, shaking her head at you. “Sign here,” she says as she hands you the keys to your room and to the freshmen’s room and money to feed the early arrivals.

You’re giddy with excitement as you take your newly found treasures to the 14th floor of Maria’s Tower, your home for the next two nights. On your way out, you run into more of your fellow orientation leaders and return to Sarah Morris’ office with them each time. There’s something in being together with all of them, all of them wearing those terrible baseball style white and blue shirts that they love to hate and others love to love.

You’ll find them sitting with their sleeping bags and pillows and bags on the corner of One Pace Plaza between the horrendous modern art the University tries to impress upon its students. “Hi, I’m Neelofer,” you’ll say with energy you never knew you had. This orientation gig has really brought out your confident, extrovert side… at least, superficially.

You’ll all lug your belongings into the Tower and agree upon meeting times for food. Perhaps, you’ll buy a pie from Rosella’s to split between all of you or if it’s the last orientation and you’re planning on going out in style, near all twenty something orientation leaders with their four early arrivals will take the metro up to 56th Street for some good ol’ fashioned fun at Hooter’s.

The 14th floor is where the party’s at and they all know it, too. Mattresses are pulled into 1406. We can fit ten people in here. Ten. Nevermind that the fire code prohibits more than six to a room. You’ll talk about all things under the sun but mostly you let them talk about themselves. It’s so heartwarming to see how open and trusting they are. You’ll wonder if you’re deserving enough to know about their lives, their triumps, their losses.

3:00 a.m. blinks red in your face and the group of you considers sleep. 7:00 a.m. comes awfully quick when you’ve had no sleep. You and your partner in crime, well, you’ll be up just a few more hours but the energy within you for the next day will astound even the most energetic human being.

8:30 a.m. on the first real day of orientation and you’re all seated at the round table. You’ll tell such exaggerated stories only because icebreakers are the things that we all love to hate. You’ll say, “I barely made it to orientation this morning because I had gone down to Virginia to go swimming with a friend. We left at like 5 p.m. yesterday and we got there to realise it was pouring and if we swam, the river would take us out to sea so we hurried back. I just got here twenty minutes ago.”

Nevermind the fact that your early arrival is sitting right next to you laughing his head off because you spent the night hanging out with him. When he explains his story, you’ll look around to see if any one will catch you in your lie. Mostly, they’re too sleepy but some where in the middle of day, it’ll hit them and you’ll explain how stories fibbed just a little serve as a much better icebreaker than the say where you’re from, what you’ll major in, and what you like to do spiel. They’ll agree wholeheartedly. They enjoy your stories.

You’ll escort them off to their sessions of being talked at and roll around rolling chairs with your fellow leaders until check-in, where you do your favourite job: handing out room assignments. They all request 14. That’s where the party is, all night long. But, only 36 of them make the cut. It’s okay. The rest of them can still come down to hang out.

6:00 p.m. and we’re all dying for some fresh air so we, the leaders, take them on some convoluted trip of downtown Manhattan. “He paid $13 million for it in cash,” you exclaim jumping up and down when the Woolworth building comes into sight. “I’ll figure out a way to get in there before my college career is over,” you tell them all. They laugh, appreciative of your idiosyncrasies. You stroll back into Rapunzel’s tower for dinner and a boat cruise.

The boat cruise around your island is the most amazing thing you’ve experienced in your life. This Fair City will remind you in every waking moment of your life just how lucky you are to be a part of its hustle and bustle. After you’ve had your fill of its beauty, it’s time to head downstairs to the dance party. It’s gonna be bangin’ all night long as they say and you, the former self-conscious dancer, are out on the floor breaking it down with the best of the best.

Once you’re back, you’ll do room checks: “17 for food, 14 for fun, downstairs with all your stuff by 9.” They rush off to fill their empty stomachs but they’ll bring it back to 14 in just a little bit. You’ll order a round of Charly’s and tell them it’s the best greasy food of their lives. Cheesy hands stuff wide open mouths. “These cheese fries are the best,” the group exclaims in unison. You nod, knowingly.

It’s another round of “Never Have I Ever,” where you’ll share your deepest darkest secrets. Willow Sky (myself) and Juanita Perez (Uruj) tell wild, mixed up stories. Fairly objective is what we are. Our excuse? We’re english majors and all of them should be english majors, too, we tell them. There’s story time with Andy Marra, too, which is a delight in its own right.

Our overnights have been party to walks on the Brooklyn Bridge in the rain (completely illegal), a sleepover with our two favourite early arrivals from Plymouth, Mass. (completely illegal), and Sex 101 where Upstate and Dr. Tweedle Dee showcased various sexual positions for Dr. Tweedle Dum and the Roommate. The four of you in one bed. It’s a sight to be seen (all of this also completely illegal).

The morning comes quickly and so does the afternoon. They get talked at some more while you leaders catch naps in the back. The time for schedules comes around and you walked in with carpet marks caked onto your face. They learn all about their new lives, exchange screen names and email addresses and phone numbers, hug you goodbye and thank you for the time of their lives. You smile and say, “Hey, it’s my job.” And, then, they are gone, leaving you with this empty, lost feeling in the pit of your stomach until the next week.

But, now, it’s all over and there are no more next weeks. We orientation leaders will still meet every Wednesday and dine as if we have orientation the next day because suddenly, all of our lives have lost a little bit of meaning. You never knew that these 863 people to have come through your door this summer would mean so much to you at the end of the day. Not all of them mean something great but so many of them do and, all any of you can do is hope that they’ll remember you when you pass one another in the hallways in the fall.