Do you remember that magnificent, summer day during orientation when you earned this official symbol of a college student? No matter if your picture looked like Jay Z or Kim Kardashian, you showed this slice of plastic off to anyone and everyone who might accidentally catch a glimpse of it. You made a pact with this ID for life -- you swore that you would never, ever lose it.
Yeah, I remember those days, too. However, the newness of that card eventually wears off, being a college student loses its glimmer, and your responsibility is somewhere between making it to your 8 a.m. test and finishing your midterm paper before your 10 a.m. Suddenly, you find yourself on the way back to your dorm only to come up empty handed, your student ID lost somewhere between all three miles you just walked to get from the English department to your dorm. Your thought process begins to look a bit like this.
I'm just not looking hard enough.
You begin looking in all places it might possibly be located. You might also start experiencing an increase in your heart rate. You don't misplace things. Okay, you don't misplace things very frequently. You frantically check your bookbag, water bottle holder, wallet, pocket, frocket.
Slight heart attack
As you emptying out all of your belongings onto the sidewalk outside of your residence hall, you face the sudden realization that you have lost the your lifeline otherwise known as your student ID. You begin to think of everything that you no longer have that you once took for granted. Cardiac arrest sets in and your lungs no longer function. #dead. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT NOW?! I LEFT MY TOOTHBRUSH IN THERE! I HAVE TO SLEEP IN MY CAR! DOES THIS MAKE ME HOMELESS?! IF I'M HOMELESS, DO I GET GOVERNMENT BENEFITS?!
Denial
You refuse to admit defeat. There is some wishful part in your heart that believes that after everything that you and your ID have been through, it will eventually show up. I did not lose my ID. I am a responsible adult.
It is time to make a game plan.
You start to break this down into a strategy. Really, you have created an art of this little game that your ID is playing with you. You depend on your roommate to open the door for you for quite a few days, ask your friends to use their guest meals on you (because who really uses those any ways), and any time you need to enter your residence hall, you wait for someone to exit and catch the door as they walk out. Oh, yeah, I got this.
But, then reality sets in.
It was all fine and dandy until you realized that you need your ID to survive. Your roommate is probably going out of town this weekend, which means you will either be stuck outside or trapped in your dorm all weekend. Your friends have either run out of guest meals (because they actually use them?) or, they were smart enough to not even buy a meal plan that included guest meals. Oh, and I'm sure that you remembered that you have to scan your student ID in order to take that test you have to cram for tonight. This requires no example (bad memories).
You have no choice but to admit defeat.
The white flag is up and you have no choice. After three days of sleeping in your car, not brushing your teeth, changing your clothes, and feeling slightly like an emaciated Ethiopian child, you cave in. You now must prepare yourself for the small fortune you will spend and humility you will experience when applying for a new ID.
Time to buy a new ID
You slowly make your way to the ID center where you shamefully admit to the person behind the counter (who seems to be lacking her morning coffee and a good attitude) that you have lost the one thing that you were expected to keep up with you all year. After many failed attempts at haggling the price or convincing her that since you are now homeless -- you should get some kind of government exemption -- you give finally give up and decide to fork up the cash. This crazy person demands a small fortune to replace your ID. IT'S PLASTIC! PLASTIC!!! HOW EXPENSIVE CAN IT REALLY BE?! WHAT KIND OF CRUEL UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT IS THIS?! I AM HOMELESS!! BE NICE TO ME!
After forking over your entire life savings, booze money, what you had saved for a dress for formal and your future first born child, you then get clearance for a new ID.
Now, you need to take a new picture.
You have not showered in days. You have questionable stains on your three-day old shirt you've not washed. And, you've probably not brushed your hair, either. But, that does not matter to Miss "I Need $50 to Give You a Piece of Plastic." You wonder how on earth you took that flawless, Beyonce-like photo over the summer at freshman orientation. Is this just today, or is college really making me uglier?
Repentance
You make another lifelong commitment to your new ID. Despite the fact that you look so terrible, Regina George actually doesn't personally victimize you; you carry your new ID with so much respect. It will never leave your designated "ID Safe Place." For the next three hours, you will spend your time repenting to the Student ID gods above and thanking them for their forgiveness. Dear, sweet, six pound, eight ounce baby Jesus, thank you for this glorious day to receive another key to the world.Sh!%, where did I put that thing...
