<p>This will come in two parts, I am almost done with the second day, but here is the first…</p>
<p>My Profile:
Age: 20
Major: Political Science
Sex: Male
Race: White
CC: Pasadena City College</p>
<p>Wednesday:
The morning before CalSO roles around and I wake up at my home in Los Angeles with the hopes and dreams of Berkeley on my mind. I grab my laptop, check my email and re-check my housing offer: Yep, still Unit 3 Triple
After seeing those words seared into my mind I decided that if there were anytime to hang myself it would be now. But before I have time to make a noose my father steps in my room asking me to go to the DMV. Its 9 AM and he wants me to turn in a traffic school certificate for speeding so my insurance doesnt launch like another Apollo mission.
After showering and convincing my dad that the DMV wouldnt be the best idea at this time in the morning; we hit the road at 11 to go to Berkeley. My father grabs some cigars for the road, we fuel up and since I just got a new Civic I brilliantly left the registration at home. If we get pulled over were going to need it son. Driving five miles back home and grabbing it seemed like it would be worth it, so we pursue that investment. At 11:30 we finally are moving north to my promise land. The road is long and boring, since we took the I-5 instead of the 101, a much more worthwhile route. We listen to music and some stand up comedy of Lewis Black, after sometime with this we still have about 200 miles to go. This blows, were both starting to get tired and no one wants to drive, so naturally I am the designated driver. We stop in some hick town where gas is $4.43 and the combine IQ of the people at the station is no higher than that. There were about 10 cars fueling and if you want to talk about typical fat dumb white Americans, look no further. I was blown away by the amount of nose picks, pimple popping and ass scratches I saw. No shame, no brain.
The ride is almost coming to an end as we pass the city of Tracy. My father hits my arm all of a sudden, What did you do that for? I exclaimed. Theres a cop. Theres no way he come after me, I was doing 85 and going with the flow of traffic. Through my rear view mirror I see a cop car bucking lanes doing 90 to get into the crowd of cars. This is the moment of truth; everyone is changing lanes to see if the cop gets behind them. First few cars shift out of the way, the cop car roared on with the blood of baby seals on its grill. Finally it reaches the white sedan behind me and yours truly. The white sedan gets so scared they shift over two lanes and pull over instantly. This cop didnt want white meat for dinner
He wanted my black Civic, with a final flash of his lights and a few whoops my heart sank and my insurance rose. Do you know how fast you were going? I always respond honestly to this question, its the best way of getting out of a ticket if you have even a slight chance. 86? I say as if Im on Quiz Bowl. I swore I heard a loud buzzer go off as he responded with, No you were going 90. 90? How is that possible my cruise control was set? He probably gunned someone else in my group and snagged me! At least he was kind and wrote the ticket for 80. My father cursed and swore the whole ride that was left. Something about terrible things, things that fall out of bulls butts and the circular thing that it falls from.
We arrive at Berkeley, the beauty of the lush greenery, upstanding citizens and homeless shouting at the fire hydrants. Ahhh Im home
Before we checked into the dorms to sleep I had a couple of appointments to look at apartment housing. One was a single on College and the other a four-bedroom apartment on Shattuck and Channing. Check out the single on College and the guy was asking $850 a month for my own room and bathroom. Seemed like a decent deal but it was a bit cramped and I could see it getting lonely quickly. I am quite an extrovert and thrive off of other people. Moving onto the four-bedroom I meet my potential roommate Masood. A very nice gentleman who is also a Political Science major, his apartment was well kept; I would have my own room and share the bathroom with him and two other men. Seemed like a reasonable deal for $650 a month, but part of me still wanted to take the dorm for the off chance of being transferred into Channing-Bowditch or Wada. Masood was explaining to my father and I that Berkeley is a once in a lifetime experience and that I should take my time and enjoy it here. This leads my father to the conclusion that Masood wants to play. We say our good byes and I have to convince my father that Masood is a strong student that is getting into the college experience and doesnt want to rush what is one of the best times of your life. We head off to the dorms to sleep; my father has to sleep in the same room as another guest and I with another student. My dad keeps cracking jokes; half hoping I get a woman as my dorm mate. My father is an amazing individual; he wants me to engage in as much academic and sexual involvement as I can when I am at CAL, a perfect circle in my opinion. We open up my dorm to find a twenty five year old man lying on the other bed; well sometimes dreams dont come true. I part with my father and begin to meet and greet with my newfound friend. His name is Freddy and he is a Philosophy major, naturally we discuss social/political for the next three hours and wander the campus at midnight before we pass out. </p>
<p>To be continued…</p>