The non-chronological collected works of my misspent youth, with notes, for your reading pleasure. Most names have been changed because I probably didn't ask you first.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Charm City: April 8, 1994

I'm in Baltimore on this absolutely joke of a college trip, in which my parents are trying to convinced me that any of my safety schools are actually worth going to. We went to Dickinson College earlier today and that is basically not happening under any circumstances. So instead I'll end up at Hollins, a school entirely composed of the same kind of spoiled, bitchy, rich, boring, beautiful, preppy girls that seemingly exist only to make my life miserable.  Guys are dicks too, but at they'll say it straight to your face.

Anyway, I hate girls and I'm going to a girls school.  As Mr. B would say:  Ha![1]

We're staying in the Omni and I was watching tv in the bathub when I found out that Kurt Cobain bought the farm, so now I'm sitting in the lobby trying and failing to call Kara on one of these fancy leather study carrel pay phones. I hope she's okay. She's been pretty obsessed with Kurt Cobain.

I just overhead two of the waitresses in the bar talking bout the suicide. Is this seriously going to be my generation's defining moment? "I remember where I was when I found out Kurt Cobain shot himself." Or is it still David Hasselhoff on the Berlin Wall? 

I know I'm a vegetarian, but I'm absolutely going to eat crab tonight. (Don't tell). That may well be the only good thing about this trip. Yum.

[1] My Junior Year English teacher (and faculty advisor) left the occasional pithy notes in the margins of our academic journals. He was notoriously famous for his “Ha!”s

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