However, it was too late to back out. Almost as soon as Dad dropped me off at home after lunch, I was back on the road and headed to college, accompanied by my anxiety, self-hate, and a lot of dread and terror. The only thing keeping me from turning my truck around was my half-assed “you got this!” mantra I repeated to myself over and over again.
As I drove, my eyes occasionally scanned my surroundings, especially when I passed by scenes of nature. I wondered what the hell I was doing going to college, when I was probably much better off in a kayak on the lake catching bass, or hiking in the valley with my deer friends. I was (and am) a redneck. I was driving to college in my 4X4, a gator paw flipping the bird strung up on the rear-view mirror, a sheepskin rug in the trunk for me to sit on when it got cold. And, of course, I was dressed in cowboy boots, jeans with paint splattered on them, a camo hoodie, and a camo hat with a hilariously stupid "NO STEP ON SNEK" patch stuck to it. Rednecks didn’t belong in college alongside all of those super smart, well-dressed students and pointy-headed professors. What the hell was I doing going there?!
Behind me, a lifted Jeep Cherokee tailgated my slow ass as I turned onto the highway less than a mile from campus. Every few seconds, I’d glance up to check out that badass toy driving behind me. Even cooler, a woman around my age was driving it, who was also wearing a hunting camo hat. As soon as I could, I merged into the right lane to give her room to pass. Only, she followed me into the right lane. Then, when I flicked my blinker on to head into the college parking lot, so did she. As I turned into campus and nearly passed out when I saw how busy the campus was, not only did that lifted Jeep Cherokee follow me in, but I noticed many more badass off-road toys parked in the college parking lots.
Perhaps, I thought, redneck, outdoorsy types belonged at college after all!
Still, I started to shake violently as ever. I felt nauseous and woozy. There were so many people running around like chickens with their heads cut off! Campus police were stationed at the entrances of each parking lot, guiding students in or letting them know that the lot was full. After passing by a couple full parking lots, I finally found a cop beckoning me into one of the largest parking lots on campus (which was almost completely full too).
I felt worse the longer I spent crawling up and down the rows of cars in search of a parking space (even with the same Jeep Cherokee following close behind me, reassuring me that I did, in fact, belong). Just when I thought my anxiety-induced migraine was about to spread to my eyes and make me go blind (or at the very least, puke out the window directly in front of a nearby pack of students), I found a parking space I could just barely fit into.
Shakily, I took a swig of Kombucha, then popped a strip of spearmint gum into my mouth while I sat in my Xterra. Moments passed by as I allowed the sweet yet sharp taste of spearmint to coat my tongue and throat, and its sweet scent to permeate my breathing space, all while I watched more and more students pass by my rear-view mirrors and disappear into the growing crowd of students. I knew I'd have to leave the safety of my truck soon if I wanted to have plenty of time to get to class, but I was scared. Terrified even.
I contemplated wearing one of my N95's with a surgical mask over it to protect myself from the virus. Then, I remembered that I was fully vaccinated, and the risks covid once posed to me were next to nothing, no matter how many plague rats I came into contact with. Plus, I was at college, not some rural truck stop in the middle of Wyoming where I was glared at for wearing a simple surgical mask to purchase a bag of jerky. Everyone at college was required to wear a mask, and most people were probably vaccinated as well.
Yet, I was very scared. Not only would I be fighting through a massive and growing crowd of people after spending almost two years in isolation due to covid, but my social anxiety was through the roof. I wasn't ready to meet new people like that. But, I remembered that most of those in that crowd of people were probably just as socially anxious as I was. Since everyone had been in isolation for so long, we were all pretty damn feral, and social mistakes were expected and easily forgiven.
Finally, I'd mustered up just enough courage to throw on a simple KN95 mask, step out of my vehicle, toss my backpack over my shoulder, and venture over to the crowd of students standing in the shadow of the nuclear fallout shelter- er I mean- Arapahoe Community College. But, not before I glanced over my shoulder one last time at my blue Xterra, which would be patiently waiting for me to return in just over a couple hours.
