I have the worst luck. I promise I’m not being dramatic; it’s just the cold, hard truth. So true, that my family has accepted my bad luck as a part of my personality. No one likes traveling with me because inevitably something will go wrong—bags will go missing (though they’re always mine so I don’t know what the commotion is about), we’ll have to run across an international airport to catch our flight that’s leaving in 5 minutes, or the worst: we watch them close the boarding door just as we are running to the gate and they won’t let us on. And transportation isn’t the only area of life that has been invaded by my luck. If there are any odds in a situation, they are just usually not in my favor. So naturally, when I informed my mom that housing for sophomore year was based on a lottery, she laughed and told me to prepare for the worst.
Though I was slightly offended by my mom’s cynicism, I knew that it was true, so I warned my future roommates (who, at this point, were annoyed that I believed so strongly in my bad luck). When housing number day rolled around, I impatiently (along with the rest of the freshman class) checked my email every thirty seconds until BAM after refreshing the page for maybe the hundredth time, there was the email…annnddd our number sucked. Like in the last 50 numbers sucked. So there was a lot of yelling. And then I laid in fetal position on my floor.
We were going to have to live in McCoy and oh man was the scoop on McCoy bad. We heard it all: “The rooms were tiny and musty and it felt like freshman year all over again,” “We wouldn’t get singles and great we get like one stovetop big deal.” It was so bad that McCoy was affectionately called “McCool” by all its residents so they could feel better about the fact that they inhabited McCoy. We became the butt of all of our friends’ jokes…because they all got Charles Commons (aka the dreamland).
But then it was move-in day, and as I walked into our suite I was surprised, because it was nice. And I’m not just saying that to make myself feel better. The furniture was all updated, we had a spacious hallway, our rooms were big, and we had a nice view. Within the first couple of days everyone in our suite was happy with our room. The decorations went up, the kitchen was stocked, and the Keurig (our most prized possession) was turned on. The suite adventures have begun—the most entertaining to date was accidentally setting off the smoke detector in our kitchen—and it has very quickly begun to feel like home. Complain as I may about my bad luck, I’m really excited about our new home. So don’t believe the sad rumors about McCoy…come check it out! Because I personally think that it is pretty darn (Mc)cool.