Registration Hell

I realized that the American Dream is not money or power, or even freedom or happiness, or anything like that. The American Dream is convenience. In order to register for the one English seminar class that students are allowed to take, I had to go to the Bailey Allen Hall at 11 o’clock to sign up. Seems simple enough, right? Except that it was first come first serve, which complicates everything. I showed up to the place at 8:15 in the morning, almost three hours before registration, and there was already a line of at least 50 people in front of us. The people from the college even set up rope barricades to distinguish the line. I alternated between dozing off or watching the bewildered look on people’s faces as that walked in and realized that they had to wait in such a long line, and that they probably would not get the class they wanted. It was actually quite entertaining. You could just see their smile drop and all the color drain from their face as they realize the end is nigh. The line went down to the end of the hall and then wrapped back around. Needless to say, I did end up getting the very last spot in the seminar class I wanted, Creative Writing, so I guess it wasn’t all a waste. Though it was absurdly inconvenient.