It’s not often people trust me to give advice. I’m certain this has nothing to do with me ever saying something like, “‘Pirates of the Caribbean 3’ is gonna be one of the greatest movies of all time.”
So when my cousin Ariel, who is set to begin his freshman year at San Diego State, called me over the summer for advice, I jumped at the chance. I mean it ? literally. I hung up, had my roommate write chance on a piece of paper, and I jumped at it all over my apartment. Needless to say, hilarity ensued.
His calls started off sporadic, but as the summer progressed they started rolling in frequently enough that San Diego “mysteriously” had awful cell phone reception anytime I was doing something important. (Basically any activity on par with playing “Guitar Hero.”)
Before you call me out on being an awful sage – I retitled my role in his life – I’ve given him some pretty valuable advice. First, I guided him away from living in the Zura zoo, which single handedly will raise his GPA a full grade point and lessen his chance of committing a violent crime because of cabin fever by at least 40 percent.
I also told him to grow his hair out, press his collar, and buy a pair of loafers to attract, and take full advantage of, the move-in help the fraternity brotherhood provides.
My greatest pearl of wisdom, however, came a couple weeks before school. Ariel called wanting to know what living in San Diego and attending State was really like. The question – probably better asked before he decided to come – stumped me. Yes, it even happens to me, and I told him I’d have to sleep on it.
The next morning it gloriously came to me: Living in San Diego is like playing the game “Oregon Trail.” And if for some sad reason you didn’t play this game throughout elementary school and have no idea what it is, stop reading this immediately. Go play the game because your soul is crying from neglect.
Ariel was skeptical, like you probably are, but I convinced him and I’ll convince you.
Before you even hit the Oregon Trail, you’ve got to go around town buying supplies. Rather than loading up on the cool stuff like a ten-pound sack of candy and enough ‘XXX’ jugs of whiskey to last a lifetime, you’ve got to get all the “essentials” like food and spare wagon parts.
Sound familiar?
Every time I go to grab my ankles (I mean buy books), all I want to do is just say forget it and buy a new iPod and one of those fancy computer screens. Alas, I undoubtedly end up walking out with books and no dignity.
And speaking of spare wagon parts, I really wonder if the roads are the same quality in the Oregon Trail as they are in San Diego today. With the amount of potholes I swerve to avoid daily, it’s amazing I haven’t been pulled over for suspicion of a DUI.
At least in the game all you have to do when your ride breaks down is trade a winter jacket to get a new axle and not spend your whole Saturday reading People from Nov. 2004 in the auto shop waiting room.
As the game culminates, people always change the speed setting to breakneck and drop the food setting to meager, trying to solidify their chance of actually succeeding ? and becoming furious at everyone complaining and demanding your party rest for a few days.
This is basically finals week. Everyone rushing around, trying to make up two months of work in a week, with no money left for the year so they’re eating Top Ramen or popcorn for every meal and yelling at anyone telling them to relax.
These are just a few of the many parallels I came up with for Ariel. I’d love to share them all, but I have a word count to meet and a fantasy football draft later.
One final note to everyone living in the dorms: Godspeed. May fire alarms and the smell of vomit not come to haunt your memories for all time.
