Exonian Epiphanies After Consuming Two Bottles of Whipped Cream
By: Nhan Phan
What is the meaning of life? Why am I here? Where and when did life begin? Why are preps unaware that the left side of elm exists? These were all big questions that I still hadn't answered after consuming two bottles worth of whipped cream. The whipped cream was sweet with a spongy texture and left an oily aftertaste at the back of my throat, just like water from the old fountain in the Academy building does. The perfect treat to lead myself into three sugar-induced hours of bloatedness and sudden exhaustion. However, it was during this time that I understood a life-changing revelation.
I realized that the reason why I still received a dickey after only 3 late Biology classes was because my excuse had been, “I missed the bus to campus.” I realized why I still received a warning after missing an English class in my Prep Fall: I'd told my teacher that “I stubbed my toe.” Now, you may think that both of those reasons inherently make sense and are sensible excuses. However, after consuming two bottles worth of whipped cream, I started to realize: there are no buses in the Town of Exeter. The only transportation service that’s not a 15-minutes-late Uber or a $40 round-trip livery service is a small local taxi company with 2 drivers that end their day at 3 PM. Furthermore, I’m a boarder. Why would I even need to take the bus from Wentworth to the Science Center? Damn, I am really that unathletic huh? Yes. Imagine if there was a campus shuttle service; I could actually say, “I missed the shuttle” if there was a service like that. The teacher might say, “you could have just walked here.” But hell no, why would I waste my sloth energy walking the tragically long distance from Wentworth to the second floor of the Science Building when there could have been a golf-cart-esque mode of transportation chauffeuring me to the building gate itself like a first-class black cab service? Oh wait, never mind. Campus Safety. But only at 3am after you throw up from drinking the water from the old fountain in the Academy Building.
Another interesting revelation: when I'd excused myself for missing an Math class in prep fall with “I stubbed my toe, ” that class had been remote. I had been at home and lying cozily on my bed, wasting the day away by re-watching back-to-back episodes of Suits (just saying, Mike Ross was badass.) I’d missed 25 minutes of class because my toe was apparently so hurt it needed immediate medical attention. My teacher might have doubted me, but let’s do the math: it takes 5 minutes to recover from the shock of the stubbed toe. It then takes 3 minutes to enter fight-or-flight mode and suddenly remember where the medical supply cabinet is; another 5 minutes to desperately army crawl to the cabinet and 4 minutes to apply the bandage without it getting stuck to my finger with military precision. Now, how long does it take to stumble back to the table? 10 minutes. Total: 5+3+5+4+10=27 minutes. Close enough. If the next time you need to have a sudden realization about something that happened in your life, just stuff two bottles worth of whipped cream in your mouth.
