With Halloween right around the corner, there’s all sorts of scary stuff out there right now. People are resurfacing myths of the haunted music mansion, there are fake skulls and eyeballs all over, and movies are hitting theaters that are sure to make you pee a little and are guaranteed to make you sleep with the lights on. But to us college kids, there’s a few terrors that people out of our world just don’t understand.
“Hi, this is your advisor. Please email me back as soon as you can, I’ve noticed something in your degree evaluation that we need to address as soon as possible.”
So you’re sitting there in October of senior year, thinking you have everything figured out, when this bad boy hits your email inbox. You were so set to take blow off classes next semester like bowling three times a week, fly fishing, and social dance that you pretty much have given up on learning. But then you get this. Your mind starts racing and sweat beads up around your temples. What’s this mean? Do you have a lab science or social justice credit you forgot about? You try make the appointment, but of course you can’t schedule it until 28 Days Later.
“I was up all night studying. Do you think this test is going to be hard?”
…what test. Last night you went to Pizza Pipeline with your friends and got dollar beers until last call. You didn’t think that there even were tests in your Intro to Christopher Nolan film class. Panic slowly settles in as you fight your bad, bad headache and wait until the test gets passed to you, scrambling to remember what the deeper themes were to The Dark Knight. You slap yourself thinking it has to be a dream, but there’s no waking up from this Nightmare on Boone Street.
“We need to talk.”
These four words are enough to make even the most confident and faithful of people in a relationship second guess everything that they’ve ever done. Uncertainty claws at your insides, and of course this was only in a text so you have no idea what their tone is. You cross your fingers hoping that it’s something like “We need to talk. What do you want for your birthday?” or “We need to talk. About how you’re the best boyfriend ever!”. Alas, there’s like a 99% chance it won’t be like that. Maybe she’s just Psycho.
“Hey, we couldn’t find you at the party so we just left.”
Ah. This is bad. You went to a party with your friends who just gave up on you, so now you’re alone in a stranger’s house trying to figure out a way to get back to your dorm without getting murdered. You rack your brain trying to remember the moves from your one semester of judo, but nothing’s coming to you. Maybe call Lyft? Nah, that costs money. Reluctantly, you open the door, slowly make your way outside into the cold October air, and step Into the Darkness.
“There’s been an attempted breach in the ZagWeb system. Please try again”
At 12:01 AM on the day of registration, this is probably the worst thing you can hear. Or see, I guess. You were so busy making sure you were signed in and constantly refreshing, ZagWeb thought you were trying to break in to your own account. All that practice you had plugging in the numbers really fast is moot now, because there’s no way you’re getting back into the system in time to get that class with three spots left. You’re done, and you’re so mad you could just Scream 4: New Decade, New Rules.