We ordered Chinese take-out in celebration of our hunger today. I vaguely knew the kid checking my food out, but I couldn't recall his name. When I got to the counter, he cheerfully acted like he knew me and asked me how my week was.
I'm not sure why I did it*, but instead of playing my part and simply saying fine or fantastic or swell, I had to tell him my entire misadventure to get my USB drive out of a locked classroom.
Now trying to get into a locked room on a college campus is not the bees' knees. I had half a mind to let the fates have my dutiful Hobnobs, the USB's name, and I'd just buy a new one. They're really a dime a dozen, or so I'm led to believe with these back-to-school ads promoting cheap ones. But then I thought about how it had copies of my Oxford essays, my fanfiction shorts, and Sam's story. I tried to remember exactly what files were on it, and what I was going to lose. I started to feel sad about leaving it, because I bought it whilst in Oxford and promised myself I'd keep it. I was worried that it was LOST FOREVER!
Worked properly into a mild tizzy, I left work early that day and headed to campus--driving the highway by my own accord! Booyeah adulthood--and I started to talk myself down: there couldn't be that many classes since I last left. It was Friday, so the campus was relatively open and no thieves or fanfiction stealers stealers, as I thought that's who would steal my USB, would be on campus.
Guess who else isn't on campus? Any helpful information desk! In a nutshell this is what I did: I went to the room. Locked. I asked for help from a custodian. Couldn't. Went to the campus police for a spare key. Not allowed. Went back to campus to find the Communication Department. Went back to campus police area, where Comm. Department is. Comm. Department was very suspicious of me and couldn't help. I decided to be reasonable and asked for a directory so that I may e-mail my professor for help.
That's when they just so happened to have a spare key in a cupboard and a man was nice enough to walk me to the room. I told him the whole story too.
The awkward part of it is having passed the girl passing free coupon books and the surveyors for non-profits on the corner at least four times!
That's sort of what I told the nice boy who was just asking me how my week was. Next time I'm just going to say fine.**
*This is actually a lie. Subconsciously, I think I did it because he was very good-looking and I wanted to try to have a conversation with him. Bad.
**I opened up with: Oh just busy running around. Like, literally running around.
Boy: Oh? Do you do track?
And so began the longest story ever...
