My expectations are low. I don’t think this is too far out of the question, dudes.
I was getting ready to leave my dorm for Art Appreciation class my freshman year of college in a small South Carolina town. My roommate and I had the tv on and I didn’t know what to do. I knew something major was happening, but I was also a first-semester freshman that didn’t know the proper protocol for ditching class. I was scared. Then the second plane hit. I watched it happen. What was going on? Tears forming in my eyes I couldn’t make sense of it all. The sounds of fear coming from Matt Lauer, the trepidation of the other reporters as they nervously watch in horror. And my sheepish mind telling me to get to class. I ultimately off I went—late. The professor kept us for a while then let us go after a slideshow of 19th-century art. To this day I regret going. All to get a stupid “A” in a world that couldn’t care less.