So I wasn't kidding about the 3:15am wake-up time today. We all piled in the rented minivan half asleep and made it out to Williamstown by 7:00am. The only problem was that the graduation ceremony didn't begin until 10:00am. So we actually didn't have to wake up that early at all. Dammit, where was all this misinformation coming from?
Joe and my youngest sister in front of some ivy-crusted building. Nothing says "college" like ivy growing on stuff. Since we got there so ridiculously early, we went into the "town" (the word is used very loosely here) and got some coffee. We had coffee for a very long time. And while we were doing that, we spied on all the college kids and gossiped about them. I decided that one of the reasons I'm glad I went to a women's college is just so I didn't have to see these Ray-Ban-wearing frat boys at my graduation. Sunglasses? Um, it's cloudy.
I told my sister that if she hadn't finished packing by the time we got up there, she was dead. She did a pretty OK job, I guess, considering that most of her dormmates didn't even start packing until after the ceremony. So I let her live. This time. But honestly, how do you not even start to pack? Especially since they were all supposed to be out of the building by 5:00pm that same day. This is not exercising intern-level efficiency, people!
Me and the sisters. (My middle sister, the graduate, is 22, and my youngest sister is 16.) I was trying to go for the "Super Happy Asian Tourist" look in this photo, but succeeding only in looking crazed. Did I also mention that it was freezing? Not only was it drizzling throughout the day, the temperature high was only in the 50s. The skirt was a bad idea.
My parents look dazed. I don't think they're used to that much driving. We live in Manhattan, after all.
The ceremony itself was sort of nice, but so long. There's my sister's head as she's heading up towards the stage to get her diploma. Luckily, our last name begins with an 'A' so we didn't have to wait too long. And after her name was called, I snuck back to her dorm with Joe and my other sister, because 500 graduates is a whole lot of names to sit through--about 490 more than I'm willing to sit through, in fact.
I'm cold! I want to go inside!
Me too. Let's get out of here.
But I don't want to be rude. What if people are mad that we're not staying to see their kid?
I don't know their kid.
Let's go! Let's go!
Well...maybe we can say that we're going to the bathroom.
All of us?
Yes. We're a close family.
OK, let's go.
So we snuck back indoors, I changed into warmer clothes, and Joe and my sister played computer games. When we finally got back to the ceremony, they were just getting to the 'W' names, so our timing was perfect.
And there's the diploma. Check out the purple ponchos in the background, free party favors from the school. I didn't wear one because I didn't want to look like Grimace.
My youngest sister chowing on a hummus sammidge. There was an insane feeding frenzy going on inside the reception tent. We had to kick the crutches out from under a few senior citizens to reach the food.
Joe and I like free Coke.
My sister and her "friend," Robert. He wants to be a meteorologist. I wanted to ask him, "like Helen Hunt in that movie 'Twister?'" but then I didn't. He was kind of nervous, I think.
A family photo. Spot the white guy. Also, note how I'm wearing five thousand layers of clothing just to stay alive, because it was so incredibly cold out.
My sister needed some time to say goodbye to her college friends, so after packing up the car we had nothing else to do but sit outside in the rain and wait around for her. See how my youngest sister is looking all adorable with her little MTA umbrella, but don't be fooled, she was whining.
I said, "Take a picture of me looking surly, so we can remember how we've been ready to go for the past three hours, but for some reason are still sitting in the driveway of the dorm."
And now we're home. I drink to forget. (This is actually a shot from our party this weekend. Also, the bottle is really empty.)
Currently reading: Ronald Reagan's New York Times obituary.
Support The Underwear Drawer! Shop at The Scutmonkey Store!