I Am Early

I am early, and I take an inconspicuous seat somewhere in the middle of the hall. My classmates begin to file in, unevenly at first, but before long the room is in the full sweep of a storm. It is a siege of huge, confused eyes and Columbia tee-shirts and lead pencils and high-top sneakers. I catch bits and pieces of conversations, and stifle a smile on words like Dorm and Roommate and Alannis. I am trying to hide behind my own face.

I find myself thinking about my first class in college. Dan Quayle was Vice President. Miles Davis was still alive. Kurt Cobain was not only alive, but anonymous. I hadn't really read Dickens, yet. Or Nabakov. Or Vonnegut. Jerry Garcia was still thin. Okay, it wasn't that long ago.

After some time, the professor joins us, fumbles with his microphone, introduces himself. He is going over the syllabus. I look for an extra pencil for the girl in front of me. She has pimples. I had pimples once, back when Johnny Carson was hosting the Tonight Show. I never thought I'd miss them.

I'm feeling particularly out of place, and I'm wondering if I really made the right decision in coming back to school. My only consolation is that the professor seems to be relating to me somehow, always seeking me out to mark his points. I am horrified when I realize he is not making eye contact, but seems rather interested in my hairline. I am acutely aware that he and I share the same one.

I wonder if I stand out as much as I think I do. I get my answer when the kid next to me addresses me as, "Sir," when he excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

After fielding what seems like a thousand questions from the floor, the professor releases us to the beautiful September day.

I wait a while, until nearly everyone has gone. My back aches. Outside in the sunlight, my head clears, stops spinning. I make my way past the Chemistry building, the Mathematics building, Lewisohn Hall. Someone asks me if I know where to find the Computing Center. I shake my head and smile. I'm bathing in warmth and certainty. The future is everywhere. My hands are on the wheel.

I descend into the subway and lean against the walls of the city. My train will be here any minute. I am right where I belong.

Columbia University Updater: Volume 3, Issue 2, November 1997