My hands were sweating. My head was pounding. I could feel the second hand ticking away ever so slowly. I was nervous, fidgety and even panicked. I kept picking at my skin and biting my tongue to distract myself from the crash. There were 40 minutes left before I could get out of there and get my fix. But I couldnâ€™t wait that long.
As I sprinted from the lecture hall out into the rain I desperately searched my wallet for cash. What if I didnâ€™t have enough? As I searched my back pocket I suddenly felt it there â€“â€“ it had been with me all along. And as I scurried down an alleyway clutching my drug of choice, I realized that this obsession had consumed my life for six whole years.
The ugly face of addiction has some soft lips: ChapStick addiction.
Addiction is a very serious issue in Fort Collins. Earlier this week, I was swinging (like a six-year-old) in a local park and witnessed three teenage girls snorting cocaine off a picnic table, and then enthusiastically doing back-flips among the playing children.
Ladies, if you are reading this article, I just want you to think about the detrimental effect your actions are having on the children of Fort Collins. You may be embracing your experimental youth.
But what if some innocent, slobbering child decided to lick that table after you? Thereâ€™s really nothing more endearing than a bunch of coked-out five year olds during nap time.
Cycling is another serious issue, even more prevalent than cokeheads near the jungle gym. Fort Collins is overrun with bicycles â€“â€“ people swerving out in front of cars, pumping up tires in alleyways in Old Town and ringing their gleeful little bells in the midst of full-tilt fixie intoxication.
I canâ€™t even count the amount of times I have been walking down a sidewalk and heard the frantic shouts of, â€œLeft! Left! On your left!â€
It inevitably triggers this wartime instinct in my brain causing me to leap/karate kick sideways into oncoming traffic or stumble over Marty, the trusty homeless man that I pass on my way to school.
I see policemen on bicycles, businessmen even. How is the world supposed to go round if the pupils of corporate evil are suddenly dilated with that â€œgoing green,â€ endorphin-induced high typical in frequent bike riders?
Fort Collins also loves whores. I love whores, too. But Fort Collins really loves them.
I canâ€™t count the amount of times I have been waiting on a friend in my car outside of a coffee shop and Iâ€™ve looked over and seen some 16 or 60-year-old-man stealing the coffee shopâ€™s Internet to watch â€œThe Sperminator.â€ Itâ€™s really a bit ridiculous.
Or, thereâ€™s the time I was walking through the parking garage after hours, and I notice a guy comfortably reclined in his Pinto, the slight shadow of a bobbing head, and the familiar scent of sweat and thousands of swimming half-fetuses. All I can think is, â€œDear God. I hope that girl remembered her ChapStick.â€
P.S. Marty says he really enjoyed the show.
But luckily, there is help out there for all of us degenerates. According to Yahoo! Answers, the way to get over addiction is as follows:
1. Keep away from people who are also addicts (OK well, if we are talking about cyclists, that is basically the entirety of Fort Collins).
2. Avoid places that remind you of your addiction (No parking garages or coffee shops for you).
3. Christ Jesus (I think Heâ€™s supposed to be a rehab counselor, but they didnâ€™t include a telephone number so Iâ€™m not sure how you would reach Him).
4. Find a new addiction (ChapStick).
But my suggestion is to join a club or organization. Like the Collegian: where the late hours and frantic, panicked atmosphere when the opinion columnists donâ€™t turn their articles in on time will remind you of the old familiar crack house right before a raid.
The point is, everyone has their own addiction, and everyone needs a fix every now and again.
Whether itâ€™s riding your bike, obsessively putting on ChapStick or dressing up like a wizard for each installment of an overly popular fantasy book series, itâ€™s important to never let anything consume your life, or to steal away the few days we have as ill-advised, wild young adults.
As Gandalf says, â€œAll we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.â€
So choose your addiction wisely. Doo-doo-doo-da-doo-da-doo (now youâ€™re supposed to be imagining the â€œLord of the Ringsâ€ theme song as the article comes to a close).
Awkward times are ahead my friends. But until we meet againâ€¦Cheers!
Morgan Mayo is a junior natural resources major. Her column appears Wednesdays in the Collegian. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.