Konold 4

On college campus, the sound of jangling keys rang in my ears everywhere I went. Keys clinked in pants’ pockets, keys clattered when dropped, and clicked when doors were unlocked. My own two golden keys followed me, and so did their melodic ring. They rested in my backpack, a charm that made me feel safe. I would be lost, devastated, without my keys. Then it happened.

One day, my keys never followed me.

It was Friday morning and someone had scheduled breakfast at the ungodly hour of seven thirty. I heaved my body out of bed and stumbled to the closet, too tired to care what I picked to wear. I silently ate breakfast with my orientation group and began another long day of pointless meetings.

Lunchtime rolled around and we loaded ourselves onto the buses for a service project called Feed My Starving Children. For three hours, our group scooped cup after weary cup of rice, powdered vitamins, vegetables, and soy. The air was so thick with the smell of raw food that my roommate became sick. Still, we managed to pack 144 boxes of food to be sent to starving children in Africa. We loaded ourselves back on the buses and headed back to campus for a tailgate dinner.

Evening meetings passed into nighttime and my body felt as though it were made of lead. Frick Fest was the event of the night, a social gathering of students for fun activities like karaoke or dancing. But, I was so exhausted that I could hardly hold myself up. I would not be able to attend the fest. Wisely, I chose to head straight to bed. As I walked toward my dorm, I pulled off my backpack and rummaged for my keys. I froze in my tracks and my heart lurched into my throat. My keys were not in my pack! Panicking, I dug through my pack again; Nothing. I dumped the contents on the ground. Still no keys.

An uncomfortable feeling wrenched my gut. I could not believe it. It was only my third day on campus, and I had already lost my keys. My heart pumping fast, I whipped out my cell phone. I clutched it tightly as I dialed my roommate’s number and prayed she would let me in. No answer. My heart skipped a beat, and my panic slowly turned to hysterics. Maybe she didn’t hear it, I thought frantically, I’ll try calling one more time. Still no answer. I paced for a couple minutes, trying to remain calm. I called her again and again, until I had called her at least eleven times. Only then did I understand that my roommate was not an option for letting me in. Unable to take the strain, I burst into tears, rivers running down my cheeks. The stress of starting a new life, separation from my family and friends, too much independence, all of it flowed with my tears. I was a college student, and supposed to be responsible. Losing my keys and foolishly locking them in my dorm room showed nothing but incompetence.

I tried telling myself that it was ridiculous to cry, that I could handle the situation, and stifled my tears for a moment. I managed to track down a wandering security guard and asked him how to get into my dorm. He told me I had to contact my R.A, then he simply walked away. I looked dumbfounded after him for a couple of seconds before realizing I did not know how to contact my R.A. I erupted into tears again. The security guard hadn’t stayed long enough for me to ask that question!

Left all alone, I resorted to my final option: I walked to the Frick Center where the Office of Student Affairs was located in the midst of the festivities. Before I entered, I tried to wipe my face to clear any traces of my earlier upset, though I knew it was futile. I knew my nose would be red, my eyes would be bloodshot, and my face would be blotchy.

Warily, I walked into the office to find a student leader and two adults. They knew right away that I had been crying, so one of the adults asked me what was wrong. I had planned to calmly state my situation, but I wasn’t able to speak one word before I let out a sob and began to cry. Immediately all three people leaped into action. The adults told me to sit down and gave me a tissue, which I promptly used. They gently talked to me about trivial things, like the weather or what they had been doing that day, until I had calmed down enough to speak. I told them what was wrong, that I had most likely locked my keys in my dorm room and that my sick roommate wasn't answering her phone. Their expressions softened.

The student leader told me that everything was fine and began sharing a story of his locking himself out of a quad. They explained to me how to contact my R.A. and said that everyone made the mistake of locking their keys in their dorm room. When I began to feel a little better and was about to leave, after thanking them profusely, the student leader offered to walk me back. He lived in the same dorm as I, and even the same floor.

At first I refused, embarrassed that I had cried in front of him. I wanted nothing more than to wash away my worries in a hot shower. However, I accepted his offer after he baited me with a sugary sweet drink that he had gotten from the Frick Fest. When we reached my dorm, he showed me how to use the special R.A contact phone. After I contacted the R.A, he left to go back to the Frick Fest. The R.A. on the 3rd floor came down with the master keys and let me into my dorm room where my sick roommate was sleeping in her bed.

After settling down in my chair, I heard a knock at my door. I opened it to reveal the 3rd floor R.A. Confused about her presence, I asked her why she had returned to my room. She wanted two bucks as a penalty for locking my keys in my dorm room. I was so surprised that my jaw fell open. I exclaimed in protest, but I could not refuse the extended open hand that had kindly helped me. With a sigh, I retrieved my wallet and pulled out two crisp dollars, slapping it in her hand. She gave a stern nod, as if to say, ‘Now don’t lock your keys in your dorm room again.’ I closed the door, silently agreeing with her. After this experience, I don’t think I’ll ever leave my keys in my dorm room again.