Tales of University from a Spastic Freshman

So there I was at 7:45am, strolling down the sidewalk toward my first class of the day: General Chemistry. Caramel macchiato in hand, bag slung over one shoulder, and my hair (which I had worked exceptionally hard on that morning) swaying lightly in the breeze. It was official: I was a University student. A freshman, sure, but the only thing that would have betrayed me was my campus map, and I’d begun leaving that at my apartment two weeks ago. High school and all its not-so-glorious memories were far behind me. Or so I thought.
My feet, which had served me faithfully for nearly the entire first month of classes, were headed for disaster. Picture a crack in the cement. One barely big enough to put a bump in an ant trail. Got it? Good. Well, my feet found that crack. The next few seconds were a blur of flailing limbs, flying curls, and espresso raining from the sky.
As I sat among the throngs of my fellow chemistry students, wishing my skinned knees were not so painfully red against my barely-tanned legs, I realized something. No matter where I went, how far up the social ladder I found myself, or what kind of ‘fresh start’ I was looking for, tripping in front of the world would always be the story of my life. That realization may seem a little gloom and doom, but it came with a decision: If I’m going to trip, and the world is going to see, I may as well have some fun with it. And if the world has a little fun too, even better.
So, World, have a laugh – I don’t mind.