Back in December 2005, I graduated from college. Naturally, as was my wont at the time, I overslept. I didn’t miss the ceremony, but I wanted to get up at 6:00 a.m. so I’d have time to shower, grab a bite to eat, then relax for a little while before we had to leave. I needed to be there before everything kicked off, so my dad I and were going to leave first, then my mom and sister would follow shortly thereafter, meeting my dad at the arena so they could take their seats. Well, I ended up waking up at 7:30. That meant I had an hour to shower, eat, get dressed, take a deep breath, go out to the car, drive to the train station, wait for a train, get on the train, ride downtown, get off the train, walk eight blocks, then get to the conference room everyone had to meet at to make sure the person reading out our names could pronounce them, then to get in order of how we’d have to be sitting. Thankfully I wasn’t wearing heels. Otherwise, I’d have snapped an ankle or two along the way and crawled up the stairs to get my degree. As it was, my dad and I were huffing and puffing a bit when we finally got there, all with a minute to spare. The rest of the day went fairly smoothly after that, with us grabbing a bite to eat for lunch before heading home. We went out to dinner later that night, which was a nice treat, because it was a week before Christmas, and usually the place was pretty well packed.
The only other day that matched that in terms of hectic fervor was my sister’s high school graduation the following year. When she graduated from college in 2011, things went smooth as a baby’s bottom. I didn’t hesitate to joke about it later that evening, when I told her that I didn’t think it was fair everything went off without a hitch for her, whereas mine was a dog’s breakfast. She helpfully pointed out that she graduated at 3:00 in the afternoon, rather than 10:00 in the morning, so people didn’t have to rush around after getting up early.
I hate when she makes sense.