Ah, freshman year orientation. I remember those days like they were only three years ago. My dad pulled the car up outside the Brewster/Boland/Brockway Complex as I sat in the backseat, eagerly awaiting the moment I would roll that gray bin up to my room and spend the next two hours arguing with my mom over where I should put my lava lamp.  I found out lava lamps weren’t allowed twenty minutes later when I got written up for the first time.

Though temporarily traumatized and significantly less hip and groovy, I made it through my first day by putting myself out there and making friends I now am awkwardly obligated to say “hello” to on campus even though we haven’t talked since that day we met. With that in mind, here are some tips and tricks to help you adjust to this strange, new, orange world.

No one else is nervous. You’re the only one who will sometimes feel awkward making this huge transition this year. Everyone else is adjusting perfectly. Out of the four-thousand incoming freshmen, there is only one person who will have some uncomfortable moments. That person is you.

If you stand very, very still, your RA can’t see you. RAs are like dinosaurs. Some RA’s are like Tyrannosaurus rexes, ruthlessly hunting their prey with write-up pad in hand, tiny arms outstretched and all. Some RAs are like brachiosaurus, who just want to hang out and get to know you. And even some RAs are like pterodactyls, because oh my god, dude, pterodactyls are the coolest.

The dining hall food will destroy you. You’d never have guessed your body could be so, uh, efficient. I’d recommend bringing some literature for your post-meal digestive sit. Everyone will be impressed when you tell them you read “War and Peace” — just don’t tell them where.

You can only join greek life after taking a semester of the Greek language. Works by the philosophers of Ancient Greece are required reading before rush. All brothers and sisters speak in fluent Greek to protect chapter secrets. Members drink nothing but red wine, especially when they all go to the baths together. Know your stuff, or it’ll be all Greek to you.

Otto is inescapable. He might not know who you are. He might not know where you’re from. But he will find you, and he will high-five you.

You can always find a party by following the North Star. And you can always find yourself by following your heart.

The fastest and most popular way to get across campus? Rollerblades. Followed by Razorscooters and Ripstiks. But so help me God, if I see anyone riding on a hoverboard, I will personally have Otto find you and teach your ridiculous self a lesson in proper transportation. It doesn’t hover, therefore it is not a hoverboard. Also, you just look so incredibly stupid going 5 mph on that thing when you could just get off and use your two feet to go the same speed. Be one of the cool kids; use rollerblades.

Be yourself. Or, alternatively, change literally everything about yourself. Completely reinvent every aspect of who you are. Change your name. Change your hair. Cut off all relationships from your past and leave the old you behind. Call yourself Hannah Montana and pursue a successful music career. Welcome to college— it’s the climb.

Only skip the classes you don’t want to do well in. You’ll have more time to count the money you’re wasting.

Call your parents. Unless you pulled the Hannah Montana move, just give them a call. They sent you here. They care. Just do it.

Ian McCourt is somehow a senior television, radio and film major. He still can’t get into parties. You can follow him on twitter @OrderInMcCourt or reach him at iwmccour@syr.edu.

Published on August 23, 2016 at 2:17 pm