I am always surprised when people leave oppressive or otherwise unhappy situations and then try to instill their values in their new situation. A friend of mine in college came from a very religious background and chose to leave, risking being shunned for his choice. We (his friends) were understanding and supportive when he asked questions or needed help adjusting, but there were times when he reverted to his old habits and got mad when others didn’t automatically go along with it.

I (a girl) was in my room when there was a knock at the next door. I heard some words being exchanged, and then the door slammed. A second later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and [Friend] came right in. He was followed by his roommate, who gave me an apologetic look.

Friend: “[My Dorm Neighbor] is hanging out with [Some Guy] with the door closed! I knocked and told them the door needs to stay open, but he flipped me off and shut the door in my face!”

Me: “I mean… It’s just as weird as leaving your apartment door open.”

Friend: “There are public areas if they want to hang out. There’s no need to do that. If we were in [his community], there would be so much backlash.”

Friend’s Roommate: “[Friend], that happens a lot outside of [Community].”

Friend: “Why do they have to have the door closed, though? If we were all hanging out, the door would be open.”

Me: “So…”

I pointed to the door that had closed behind them.

Friend: “Oh, no!”

He yanked the door open and grabbed the trash can to prop it open. He looked a little pale, so I offered him a seat. 

Me: “[Friend]. Listen, I know you’re going through a lot. I know it’s hard and scary, and—”

Friend: *Very defensive* “I’m not scared.”

Me: “Okay. I know it’s different and takes time to adjust, but you left that community by choice.”

Friend’s Roommate: “College is a melting pot; it’s a lot of different people coming together to get an education.”

Friend: “Well, what would their parents think? That’s just disrespectful.”

Friend’s Roommate: “Part of college is being on your own. You make your own decisions, and you live with them.”

Friend: “Ridiculous. I can’t imagine. My parents would never allow that.”

Me: “You can disapprove, and you can do something different, but you can’t expect everyone to change their life because it’s not how you were raised.”

He walked out. [Friend]’s roommate and I exchanged a shrug and he left. Our friendship deteriorated as the semester went on, and eventually, [Friend] was gone. [Friend]’s roommate said his parents came and packed up all his things while he was in class, and that was the end of their adventure.

Reading this story reminded me of a time when I lost my own keys.

I was in my first year at university, living in self-catering shared accommodation. At my university, there were no classes on a Wednesday afternoon and I was determined to spend my free afternoon being lazy. I came back to the accommodation, dropped my bag off in my room, and went upstairs to the kitchen to make some lunch.

With lunch out of the way, I came back downstairs, unlocked my room, and went inside. I sorted a couple of things out, went to lock the door, and realised that I couldn’t find my keys. I checked my bag, but they weren’t there. I looked on my bed and under it, but they weren’t there, either. Frantically, I turned the place upside down, throwing clothes, books, and other things into the centre of the room. My keys were nowhere to be found!

Panicking now, I phoned my mum. I’m not sure how I thought phoning my mum would help since I was in Belfast and she was two hours away and didn’t even have a spare key for my room, but I phoned her.

Me: *Panicking* “Mum! I’ve lost my keys!”

My mum was level-headed as always.

Mum: “Calm down. Where are you?”

Me: “I’m in my room.”

Mum: “You must’ve had your keys to get into your room. Try looking in cupboards and under your bed.”

Me: “I’ve done that! But I didn’t…”

I trailed off because I’d just looked down. There, in my left hand, where they’d been the whole time, were my keys!

Me: “I’ve found them.”

Mum: “Oh, good! Where were they?”

Me: “In my hand. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

My mum laughed and assured me that things like this happened and it was part of adulthood. I hung up the phone and tidied my room.

Years later, I look back on this incident and laugh, and now I have a good story to tell anyone who’s embarrassed because they’ve lost their keys!

Related:
The Key To Getting Your Lost Property Back

Our history professor includes a ten-minute break in his long lectures. We’ve been talking about technology development in World War II when we go into break. The professor is making small talk with teaching assistants (TAs) and a few students.

TA: “How’s the set-up going?”

Professor: “We’re on track. All the space is cleared, electronics are ready. When the actual tank arrives—”

Student: “When the what arrives?”

Professor: “The tank. It’s not a big one, but my birthday’s coming up, and I wanted—”

Student: “Whoa! What kind?”

Professor: “It’s a 155-gallon saltwater tank. I never knew you were an aquarium enthusiast!”

Student: “Oh… Right, fish.”

The TA looked at the crestfallen student, looked up at the screen at the front of the class showing a WWII Sherman tank, and burst out laughing.

I bring up a composer I like to a friend of mine.

Friend: “Oh! I love [Composer]; he’s one of my favorite geriatric composers.”

Me: “Geriatric?”

Friend: “Yeah, that’s how you use that, right?”

Me: “[Composer] is in his fifties…”

Friend: “Like, it means someone who’s older and fun?”

Me: “[Friend], it means ‘elderly’ — you know, like sixty-five and up. It’s rarely used outside of health contexts.”

Friend: “Oh… No wonder one of my favorite professors looked so sad when I called him that.”

Me: “You did what?!”

I am looking for a place to get my bike fixed, so I take the train one stop into the closest town to my suburban college. I get off the train and exit the station, and I begin to receive comments as I walk.

Cop: “You shouldn’t be here; it’s not safe for a girl like you.”

Me: “???”

I keep walking because that just seems patronizing.

Man At The Gas Station: “Hey, little girl, what are you doing here? Go home. It’s not safe.”

Me: “???”

I keep walking because everything looks fine and the white guy is probably just being racist toward the people around here.

Homeless Man: “Hey! Hey, miss, excuse me?”

Me: “Oh, hi. How are you?”

Homeless Man: “Um, good, but what are you doing here? This isn’t a good place for someone like you.”

Me: “Why?”

Homeless Man: “A little white girl like you? Isn’t it obvious?”

This guy is Black, so maybe the concern isn’t just racism.

Me: “It’s not obvious. So far, everyone I’ve met has seemed pretty nice.”

Homeless Man: “There are all sorts of unsavory folks around — drug dealers, gangs, you name it.”

Me: “…What do you think I’m going to be doing to piss off those people? Or do they just go hunting for the stray innocent to sacrifice? Where I come from, if I mind my business and am nice to everyone, I generally don’t have any trouble.”

Homeless Man: “Sure, but this isn’t like the suburbs.”

Me: “I’m from Oakland, California.”

Homeless Man: *Laughs* “Oh! You’ll be fine, then.” *Laughs more*

Me: “Thanks…”

I keep walking. Later, an old lady on a stoop calls out to me.

Old Lady: “Sweetheart! Oh, my goodness, sweetheart, did you get lost?”

Me: “I’m actually just a block from the bike shop where I’m headed.”

Old Lady: “But it’s not safe for a sweet thing like you.”

Me: “You seem fine. A sweet thing like you? Surely, I’m fine.”

Old Lady: *Sighs* “Thanks, sweetie, but I’m not sweet.”

Me: “From where I’m standing, you are. See you later.”

Later, I arrive at the bike shop.

Bike Shop Owner: “How did you get here?”

Me: “I walked.”

Bike Shop Owner: “But it’s not safe out there for a little white girl like you!”

Me: *Pauses* “So, can we fix my bike?”

Other than all the concern, it seemed like a perfectly fine place. It was a weird experience, though.