After spending just enough time at New England Tech to fuck myself out of having any classes with any of my actual friends, I decided to take up the 2-year-transfer program at CCRI. The deal is I spend 2 years at Community College, and then if I don't kill myself out of boredom, I transfer to URI.
What wasn't part of the deal however was taking 3 years of varsity track and field to condition myself for the walk to class from the parking lot. If I have class from 10am-on I literally have to park closer to Toll Gate than CCRI to get a parking spot. If I use binoculars I can see the outline of the building and if I use the Hubble Telescope I can see shapes that resemble windows and doors. After taking out my compass and heading seven-thousand clicks north I reach the area where the 8am class-goers park. Usually at this point I take out my canteen and take a breather so I don't pass out from exhaustion, taking cover from the sun behind the fleet of poorly personalized Honda Civics and Mustangs that are cooler than mine.
After I catch my breath, I continue up the strenuous walkways of what should be the Community College of Olympic Rock-Climbing. Once finally inside I make a stop at the book store and pick up a power bar, a red bull, some vicodin for my calves, and a pneumatic pump to fill my lungs back up with air. Feeling refreshed, I continue onward. After several long minutes of walking, climbing, scaling, swimming, diving and fishing(?) I arrive at last...nowhere near where I'm supposed to be. From here I search furthermore, getting closer and closer to my desired room number. At last, I am here! I make a dramatic entrance complete with dancing and singing and fireworks. But yet again, I am in the wrong class. God damnit. The students laugh me out and I shamefully walk away. If only I had taken one extra second to review the schedule instead of watching porn online.
I open my backpack and consult my schedule for the second time, realizing now that my room number is NOT XXX SLUTS. I proceed further towards my room. I finally arrive, now 1 hour and 25 minutes late out of my two-hour class. I sit down and listen in. I hear the words " input" and "output". There is no way that they are talking about elementary subjects like input and output in college. Oh god damnit, they are. You know what, if this shit needs to be taught then you might as well be taught how to open your eyes and wipe your own dumb ass. I picked up my desk, smashed the teacher in the face, output my spit onto her forehead, input my fist into her gut, and left.
