There I was, halfway through a bite of my toasted ham and provo­lone on wheat, when I noticed him by my side.

A tall, lanky guy with both of his hands shoved down his pants stood roughly two feet from my sandwich-stuffed face.

After a long hard swallow, and complete abandonment from my friends at the table, I choked out a “Hi…can I help you?”

The almost too comfortable guy gradually inched closer until he burst out in laughter and pointed to his friends who were all staring at me from across the cafeteria.

“Nah, I was just messing with you,” he answered as he removed his hands and left our table.

That was my freshman year in a nut shell.

I met my handsy friend in my first month here at Wayne State, around the same time that my roommate let the mac and cheese experiment she made in the microwave freely mold to her desk, and cut her hair into a cereal bowl (for the first time that year), which she left beside the macaroni for many months afterward.

What is a “normal” college expe­rience supposed to be like?

I moved into my first house my sophomore year with three beau­tiful roommates. Within the first few weeks our pipes backed up and flooded our basement with sewage. The house was so poorly insulat­ed that before going to bed in the winter I had to heat up my room 30 min­utes in advance for hopes of not freezing to death in my sleep. The week of finals, right before we moved out, the pipes burst again one last time for good luck, of course.

My sophomore year was also the first time I got to judge a poetry slam.

I was given the opportunity to wine and dine with tremendously talented, well-respected authors. They asked me questions about my writing as if it mattered, and saw me as much more than just another undergraduate. I had the opportu­nity to meet and learn about my professors as peo­ple and friends. I was invited places I never dreamed I’d be able to grace and was asked to speak in positions in which I never imagined.

I now live with two of the same beautiful roommates (the third one is getting married to someone wonderful this weekend) in a house that lacks sewage issues and keeps us all warm.

I’d say we’ve come a pretty long way.

None of the cereal bowls con­tain any hair, and I haven’t seen the hand-bandit since freshman year. Seriously though, if you’re reading this, contact me. I’ve al­ways wanted to know if someone put that on Youtube.

So what is a “normal” college experience supposed to be like? I wouldn’t even begin to know, and maybe that is just the purpose. Maybe it is a collection of insanely odd stories and beautifully flawed moments that mold you into what some would call an adult.

As far as I’m concerned, I’m holding onto these last few years for dear life and savoring those indescribable instances along the way.

I hope you can all do the same.