Go to Town

Since our campus is so large, the residence halls are divided into three main communities. North ______, South ______, and North ____. And I enjoy this segregation very much because it makes me feel like I'm part of my own little nation during a Waring States period. And just to cement the cult-y feel of it all, every community gets their own t-shirt.

When I get to the front desk to claim my uniform, the guy there asks me if I want an XL or an XXL. Immediately, I look around for sand to throw in his eyes. But noticing the look of pure rage on my face, he quickly adds, "We ran out of all the other sizes two weeks ago." So that is what I get for procrastinating. I take the XL and cut the sleeves off and it works perfectly as my straight boy costume.

At some point during the same week, I go to Town, a place that calls themselves a "dance boutique." And with that little bit of knowledge, you pretty much don't need to take the place, or anybody in it, seriously. And I don't really want to talk about the experience except that I saw two people I know inside. And it was disconcerting since these are two people that I have flimsy connections with and I do not want them to know I am gay. Because the first person who finds out should be somebody important (Sister, the Pope, Mariah Carey). I don't want the random guy who sat in front of me in Orgo last semester to be the first to know. That is just no fun.