The names in this article have been changed out of respect for identities.

I'm a firm believer in trying as many things as possible, even if they're completely irrelevant to one's personality. That's why as an English major, I try to break away from the ever-present Microsoft Word existence to do things that wouldn't appeal to me in a normal setting.

So I went to hang out with dead people.

Since almost everyone I know is a science or math major and spends time looking at cadavers, I figured I should go see what the future medical professionals of America got to see. I asked one of my best friends Liz* to take me into the cadaver lab of our school, and she agreed.

We went down to the bottom level of the science building that next day, and my expectations were thrown the opposite direction almost right away. The air was thick and smelled like what the word "fermentation" looks like. Not only that, it was warm, which was the opposite of what I expected because I thought we were going to be entering the science equivalent of a Chili's freezer.

Liz flicked on the lights and I saw what seemed like an endless sea of metal tables covered in thick white tarps. Until now I had been playing it up in my head, and expected Frankenstein tools and bloody sheets, but no dice. This was a professional affair.

Liz asked if I wanted to see Gretchen*, one of the individuals the students had performed dissections on. I'm not squeamish, but to prep for this, I stupidly watched a video on rigor mortis and was not looking to experience that, so I asked to see a foot.

It was indeed a foot. With painted toenails. The end.

I walked around and saw bones and organs, in plain view through glass drawers and freezers, and I wasn't even creeped out. It felt official, and scientific, which are two feelings that are alien to me.

More than that, it was a positive reality check. The question of what happens after we die has been mulled over by everyone, and although some argue that nothing happens to us when we pass the gates of Valhalla (or wherever we personally hope to end up), we can still provide use and wisdom to the next generation, simply by existing. That's a pretty cool thought.

I respect the men and women that spend time with these individuals, but I respect the deceased even more, for allowing the next generation to learn from them.