The first and last time

I remember last year the winter semester was winding down and I needed to sit somewhere and study briefly before a class. For some reason I was in the Wilkinson Center (not a place in which I often studied because of the noise). This was probably because I wanted to drink some Fresca and munch on some chocolate covered cinnamon bears while I studied (and wasn’t in the mood to sneak some into the library).

That was a pretty consistent study snack. Chocolate covered cinnamon bears are REALLY hard to find outside of Utah, and they’re never really that good unless you’re on BYU campus. I really miss those goodies that are really unique to Utah—chocolate covered cinnamon bears are the tip of the iceberg. Smith’s in Provo has the most scrumptulescent bridge mix (a jumble of chocolate covered goodies, like nuts, gum drops, raisins, etc—you either love it or can’t stand it. It comprised 30% of my diet during undergrad, and yes, I got Harry hooked on it as well). Another thing is that whipped honey—am I the only one who bought it regularly? Amazing. The lengthy list of tooth-rotting things I ingested in college is getting away from the point.

I was sitting there minding my own beeswax when an older gentleman in a wheelchair rolled by, stopped, looked at me and asked, “Do you mind if I eat here with you?” I didn’t recognize him or anything, and he didn’t seem like a professor. I said sure. Then there was that awkward tension of “Well, I’m studying right now, and eating, so do I talk to this guy and be polite or do I just do my thing and read this boring textbook on professional clinical conduct?”

I didn’t have to wonder for long. He started a conversation. He asked me about myself, what I was studying, when I would graduate, was I engaged (which I freshly was!), etc. It turns out he was a former professor just visiting some family in town. He told me that he used to teach Communications classes, and that he and his fellow former Communication teaching buddies still got together to hang out on a regular basis. They called themselves the “Excommunicators.” Ha. Bad Mormon joke? Or hilarious Mormon joke? (Shrug.)

Our conversation didn’t last longer than 15 minutes, because I had to scamper off. I realized when I walked away that that was the only time in my entire BYU career that a male came up to me in the Wilk and asked to sit with me. Yep. Which means I am pretty much the only female to ever have attended BYU who had not been asked out/hit on in the Wilk. If you weren't already aware, many a weekend date and eternal relationship (and everything inbetween) is regularly born in that building.

I once ran into a friend who was entering the Wilk as I was exiting. I asked, “Hey, whatcha doing?” She answered, “I’m going to go get asked out on a date in the Wilk.” I laughed and then realized she was serious, and she assured me she was sure it would take no longer than twenty minutes. This didn’t surprise me; she’s a fox. I responded, “Well, I’m going to class, but will you please text me the minute you get asked out? I really am curious to see how long it takes.” Fifteen minutes later I got a text from her that read, “Got a date for Friday.” Impressive, right?

(Sidenote: I did get asked out by Harry in the very beginnings at a table in the library over a stack of anatomy flashcards. I’m a believer in the 5th floor.)

I don’t know what it was that made me remember these experiences, but they’ve been on my brain. It’s kind of scary to think that I have these quirky, random little stories from college that I might never remember if something doesn’t randomly spark the memory. So I’m putting them here. Because all you people who read this innocuous blog (Mom, Merz, and Elizabeth) are dying to read them, I’m so sure.