Every day this week, we’re bringing you diaries from some of NYU’s shiny new freshmen. Click here to meet our diarists, read up on what you’ve missed so far, and check back on NYU Local every day for more insight.
7:00 am - If the success of an evening can be determined by the number of friend requests waiting the next morning, then last night was a success.
7:01 am - I would sell some of my major organs to be able to stay in bed right now.
7:37 am - I’d sleep in but my orientation group has a mandatory volunteer activity that, according to the description, “includes removing invasive plant species from native plant species.” And I can’t go back to sleep with those invasive plant species on my conscience.
7:54 am - Trudge my way to Washington Square Park. Accidentally intrude on a really tender moment between a man and a pigeon. The pigeon is sitting on the man’s knee while the man play guitar and sings softly to it. I realize almost half of these observations are about pigeons. This needs to stop.
8:15 am - Meet up with my orientation group in the park. We board a train to the Bronx, where the native plant species await our rescue. Most of us sleep.
9:20 am - Arrive at a park in the Bronx. Hey look, nature! We get to work and actually start to bond over manual labor. Many of us are English majors and our conversation inevitably devolves into a measuring contest of our summer reading lists.
1:50 pm - Back on the train with English Majors and Company. We decide to start a book club in which we only read Infinite Jest. Pretentious? Probably, but still awesome.
2:45 pm - Pass a book store with a massive outdoor sale section with one and two-dollar books. I have what feels like a minor religious experience.
Pictured: Where I plan to spend my next four years.
8:45 pm - I’ve been warned that the clubbing events advertised on facebook are categorically shitty but I feel like attending one is a rite of passage for a freshman. Dragging my ever-patient suitemates out for a rave down the street.
9:30 pm - Detour to Kimmel to pick up an NYU-Poly kid from last night. Proactively feel guilty that he came all the way from Brooklyn for what will likely be an awful party.
9:57 pm - Headed to Webster Hall and—hey it’s my English-major friends from this morning! Detour to their room for what my suitemate later describes as, “I guess what liberal arts majors do at parties.” Namely, this happens:
11:21 pm - I realize I still don’t know how to say Duane Reade. Dwahn? Dwayne? Hang on, let me say “Dwaaaahhhn” about forty times.
11:50 pm - “Do you guys want to go to a place that only serves French fries?”
11:54 pm - Realize we’ve lost someone from our group. We find him meditating on a Halloween store display. Convince him that the store is not haunted but is, in fact, a Halloween store.
12:07 pm - Lost initiative to find French fry restaurant; get pizza instead.
12:31 am - Run into other freshman going to the rave. Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that! Splinter off from original group, join new group. Exchange phone numbers with new friends because it seems the responsible thing to do.
1:04 am - Arrive at club. Line stretches down the block. We could wait through this line or we could go home and eat granola.
1:15 am - At home eating granola. I was right; that club sucked.