The best thing about being a freshman is that you know that you will never have to go through that experience again. Unless you're going abroad.
Tonight is University College of London's International Student Reception. I'm standing in the middle of a large tent in Gordon Square Park, talking with the three or four Tufts kids, and a glass of white wine sits comfortably in my right hand.
All of the mingling affairs in London seem to have free wine, even the ones where you meet your professors. (Yes, the first time you meet your Shakespeare lecturer, he may be completely sloshed.) I blame some elaborate plan by the higher-ups of UCL to warm our personalities, loosen our tongues and lessen our inhibitions when we have to introduce ourselves to random strangers.
A few minutes pass and I decide that perhaps I should meet some non-Tuftees. So, I break off from my clique and begin to weave through the crowded area, around already-formed, forced conversations and waiters carrying various hors d'oeuvres.
Attempt No. 1 finds me unable to break into a discussion about how Californians think of the ocean as "west," while Russians think of it as being toward the east. Okay, maybe my exclusion there was no great loss.
Onto Attempt No. 2: "What? You're from Germany?" Oh yeah, I forgot, I'm an international student. And international does mean more than "Americans studying abroad." As much as I'm enjoying the language barrier, I fear I haven't had enough wine for this. Back to the wine table!
Attempt No. 3 finds me at a loss for words after mentioning that I'm from Tufts, but originally from New Jersey, and that I'm enjoying London so far. On the bright side, the waiter mercifully refills my empty wine glass while I'm looking.
After a few more tries, I am finally able to strike up a conversation with another English major. And I'm pretty sure that, once the waiter notices that we are talking and seem genuinely interested, he makes sure that our glasses are never empty in hopes of expediting our friendship.
But, despite my minor success, the past week has made me realize that I'm back at the proverbial square one.
And I'm not alone. We've all been freshmen before. We have no desire to be them again.
So, we're in a horrible predicament.
On one hand, I can turn my nose up at the "freshers' events." I can scoff all I want, but at the end of the day, I'm in the same boat as they are. I know a few people from my time at Tufts, but isn't the whole point of studying abroad (aside from being able to write a swanky abroad column) to meet new people from different places?
At the same time, will I really make life-long friends going to a dance at some club or to trivia night at a student union pub? Probably not.
The one benefit of being an actual freshman is that you still have a bit of na'vet?©. There's still hope that you'll meet your true love at Fall Ball or that the people you randomly sit next to for lunch will become your best friends for the next four years.
But by now we know the truth, and, coupled with the fact that there are 40 other Jumbos here, are just not willing to put in the effort anymore.
Of course, as I write this, student clubs (or societies, as the Brits say) are just starting, so we'll see how those affect my social life. Until then, I can take comfort in some of the amazing fellow Jumbos who are in the same ship I'm in and in the fact that, across the pond, wine will always flow freely at meet-and-greets.
