It was Sunday morning and I knew before I even opened my eyes that it was going to be a bad day. After several weeks of denial, frustration and several botched attempts at time travel, it was time to face the sad truth: Summer had come to an end and it was time to return to Ohio University for another year of school.
And what a summer it had been! With the pressures of life in Athens gone, I was able to dedicate myself to doing all the wild, irresponsible things I could never enjoy while at school. I bought a suit, shined my dress shoes, and at one point I believe I may have even combed my hair! Hang in there — it gets a lot worse.
When my parents went on vacation for the weekend, I invited a few friends over and we spent the weekend reviewing each other’s resumés. I don’t want to scare you off, but things got pretty crazy. At one point a friend and I decided to experiment with each other’s fonts. (Please don’t tell my father!)
Of course, my wild summer didn’t consist solely of business conferences and charity work with the homeless. A man needs some alone time, after all! When I was in the mood and the house was empty, I would whip out the laptop for, you guessed it: philosophical essays and long-form soliloquies. Nothing leaves a man more satisfied than exploring his fragile mortality through the majesty of prose.
Some nights all I wanted to do was slip into a comfortable button-down, khaki-slacks combo and curl up with my well-loved copy of Applied Calculus and Theoretical Geometry. It got to the point where I found myself sleeping in all the way until 9 a.m.!
But, alas, those halcyon days of unproductive relaxation were now behind me. With a frustrated groan, I heaved myself out of bed and staggered to the closet, where I had stored all of my school supplies over the summer break. It was time to face facts. This was going to be a long, hard year.
I began packing my suitcase with all the essential items I would need during the next few months: my flat-screen TV, my assorted collection of beaded necklaces, my tankard of Yuengling and, of course, my trusty air horn, to name a few. I sighed in resignation as I began to pack up my wardrobe of beer-and-vomit-stained togas, untouched over the summer break; I certainly wasn’t looking forward to going back to OU’s strict dress code.
“Moooooom!” I called at the top of my lungs. “I can’t find Captain Giggles!”
“That half-starved howler monkey you dragged home from school?” Mother called back to me. “We gave the poor thing to the Cincinnati Zoo. The vet there diagnosed it with three different types of PTSD. What exactly did you do to that animal, and why was it covered in honey mustard?”
I ignored the question. “Mom, exactly how am I supposed to go back to school without my party monkey? I’m trying to be a responsible adult here,” I said as I carefully wrote my name on all my Nerf guns, “but it’s hard to do that when you keep screwing me up!”
“You had all summer to find a new party monkey, Ryan,” she replied. “Maybe if you had spent less time analyzing Proust and a little more time on your schoolwork, you would have remembered to buy a new one!”
With one final grumble, I packed away my spanking paddle and headed for the car. Hang in there, McAndrews, I told myself. Pretty soon your four years will be up, and you can put this grueling life behind you.
I took a wistful slurp off my beer helmet’s tube. The taste was bitter. It tasted like growing up. It tasted like coming home.
Ryan McAndrews is currently undercover posing as a senior journalism student. Tell him about your summer vacation in an email to rm287608@ohiou.edu.
