In class I was asked about my bad day. I'm going to write about that. It was a Saturday. I woke up earlier than I normally do on Saturdays because I had to take the LSAT. The ticket to get into the test said I had to show up by 8:30 AM. I know that LSAC (the organization that runs the test) stickles. That is, they are sticklers. I figured it started then, and exactly then, so I wanted to be sure I was early. I got there around eight.
Now, I live in the dorms here on campus, and on weekdays, Food Service begins their day at seven. On weekends, they don't start till eight. I always forget that, though, so this particular Saturday I went to get breakfast and found only locked doors.
Then I went to the test. The ticket said to report to Reid Hall, room 243. The signs all over the building, however, directed me to a lobby on the fourth floor. It's not fun climbing all those stairs. It's not too bad, of course, but it isn't good, and all these little things add up.
When you take the LSAT, you are allowed to have pencils, erasers, pencil sharpeners, tissues, and a juice box. You may have nothing else. Everything you have must be in a clear zip-lock bag. I happened to find one of those in the trash the night before, so I washed it out and was able to keep my stuff there. That was a good thing, but it happened the day before, so it doesn't count towards my bad day.
I got to the test room, and there were two women there who reminded me that once I came in, I would not be allowed to leave. Where else could I go? They didn't accept my driver's license because they had never seen one from Virginia. I had to present a military ID and a passport before they let me in. I was the first person actually taking the test in the room. Remember when I said I thought it started at 8:30? Well, we waited until 9:30 to start. They showed me my seat, and I waited nearly an hour and a half. I took a few pencils from my bag. You can keep the pencils on your desk. You cannot access your baggie during the test.
We were filling out that part of the test where you write your name, sex, race, social security number, etc. when I realized I didn't know my LSAC identification number. I would have to check my ticket stub. One of the proctors came over and gave me a harsh looking at. I showed her that all I had in my baggie, apart from a number of government issued identification cards, was the stub. I was the only person whose baggie had so little in it. The woman said that now it's okay to have the stub on the desk, so I did that. She also told me to keep my IDs on the desk. It turns out I didn't need my baggie.
After that part was the part when you have to write, "I hereby certify that I won't talk about the contents of the test, yada yada, the answers, yada yada, the questions, yada yada. For some reason, they insist that this is written in cursive. When I was in fourth grade, we learned e's and l's because in Kansas they learn cursive in fifth grade. Then I moved. In Hawaii, they learn cursive in fourth grade, and I almost failed the fifth grade because I hadn't learned how to do it.
I still can't do it. I think writing the honor code was the hardest part of the whole exam. I very slowly scribbled something that looked like I probably should have failed fifth grade. Then the proctors asked if anyone needed more time. I was about halfway done.
Around 2:30, the test finally ended. I was hungry. I hit up the cafeteria. This is, of course, between meal times, and they have very little food. I had some macaroni and cheese that I think had gone bad and a blob of cottage cheese that had been out since eight.
When I made it home, I found that my mother had called me several times during the test. I called her back. Then I had to talk to Mom for an hour. That means that for an hour, she told me how things my brother was doing (about 2000 miles away) were my fault, how I should have done better on the test, and why didn't I answer her when she called? Then she tells me she loves me. Then I get to hang up.
Later I went to a friend's house. The idea was that we could hang out and have a few drinks. I had bought a nice cigar the day before because I was expecting I would want one around then. It turns out his roommates also wanted a few drinks. By the time I made it there, there was quite a party. It was not the relaxing environment I was looking for.
A little while after the keg ran out, we heard that Jack, one of the roommates, had passed out out front somewhere. When we went looking for him, we found that really he just kept falling into walls in the living room where he was trying to pick fights with people waiting for the bathroom. Jack gets pretty fisticuffs when he drinks.
Sometimes Jack was very happy to see me. Other times he headbutted me. Still, he told the other guys that I was the only one he'd listen to. He didn't listen to me. He mostly just used me to stand. We did trick him into going into his room, though. All we had to do was get him to go to sleep. Instead he kicked his desk apart and threw DVDs around. Then he would try to fight me. I just kind of contained him for maybe half an hour, when Trevor, another roommate, came by to relieve me. At this point, my shirt was bloody from Jack, and my face was bloody from bleeding, and my shoe wasn't bloody but it was lost.
I decided to cut my losses and go home. It's like a fifteen to twenty minute walk that is not enjoyable when you're punch-drunk with only one shoe. When I made it back to the dorms, there was this girl who lives on my floor who was very upset, so I had to listen to her story about the drama she and another girl on the floor now have. Then Kevin couldn't get into his room because his keys were in some guy's car. I had to help him look through the parking lot (though we weren't sure it was in that parking lot) wearing only one shoe for a car I didn't recognize. On top of this, the guy who had seen the car once before was thoroughly intoxicated.
I took a shower because my foot was disgusting, and eventually I made it to bed. While I slept, my floor was vandalized by the residents of another floor.
