It Happens at GW

You know, when I was in high school, whenever we’d get a visit from a former alumni and he or she would talk about how different college was from high school, I believed them. That is, to an extent. I mean, if you had told my summer self that sometime in October I would be contemplating mixing a batch of cement in my dorm room, I would’ve told you to go do something physically impossible to yourself.
In the end, I didn’t go through with the cement plan, as I found a much better substitute in “universal space age adhesive glue”. In one of the clubs I belong to, there was talk about strange things we’ve found in our dorm rooms left over by the occupants the year before, as well as the things we have left ourselves. I heard someone found a brick in their freshman dorm, that same person I believe, leaving a snowball in the fridge.
I’ve got a friend to had to deal with a bee hive right outside her window well into the quarter. I found a hole in the ceiling walking down one of the halls, with a candy bar wrapper comically protruding from it. During my first night at GW, I turned off the lights ready to go to sleep when I look up at the ceiling and notice something. All that came to mind was What the hell?! upon seeing the many glow-in-the-dark stars and planets spaced out (no pun intended) across the ceiling. This led me to wonder one very important question: no doubt they were put up there by a previous resident, but did that person really go through getting hold of a ladder to do so? Or did that person use the bed as a spring board? I could always ask her, but I’d rather not, as I already find it strange enough that I keep receiving her Forbes magazines in the mail. I ask myself, what shall I leave behind?
I’m looking to a shoe filled with cement.