Battle of the Calculus Seating Chart

Every day while most of you are tucked up all cozy in your beds, I am dragging myself out of mine (at 6) so I can get to class on time (9:30). No, I don't take an obscenely long time doing my hair in the morning; I have a 45+ minute commute to Ukiah everyday. I actually leave the house at 7:45, go pick up my boyfriend, and then finally leave at 8:30. It's arduous, especially when I know on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I am going to have to endure a form of psychological torture.

I always thought that in college I would be able to waltz in and out of class at my leisure and sit wherever I wanted (mostly in corners or the back). This is true of all my classes...except one. My calculus has an implied seating chart that most decent people respect; it formed the first day of class and everyone has been obeying it. The first day is the only day I have ever cared to be on time for because I have the pick of the "blenders" (seats at the back of the class that allow you to just kind of blend in with the wallpaper so the teacher never bothers you). Unfortunately for me, someone decided that jocks need to be educated.

No offense meant to people who go to school and play a sport; that's all fine and dandy. But, let's face it, there are people who play a sport and go to school. These people have infiltrated my classes; they slow the rest of us down because they miss about 75% of the classes because they are off "being athletic" (sleeping in). Normally, I wouldn't care; I'd just put my head down and do my homework in class. As I mentioned before, my choice of blender has been infiltrated. On my right sits my friend the wall; he is comfy to lean my head against and he supports our pal the air conditioning/heater. To my left sits a guy I call "Baseball Joe" because in the time since we have been in the same math class (a year and a half) I have yet to learn his name. He looks like Viktor Krum minus the attractiveness; I guess you could call him potato shaped. He has a tattoo of the American Major League Baseball logo on his arm.

Every time I see it, I want to ask him how drunk he was or how much he got paid to get it on such a visible body part. All these things are unoffensive, if not entertaining but Baseball Joe has one repulsive habit: he chews tobacco.

In my ear

All class long.

Every day.

He smells like a third world country; he runs before he comes to class, so he is caked in smog and sweat. As if these aromas weren't appealing enough, he decides to throw chewing tobacco on top. Okay, okay--I know; these are bearable offenses for le blender extraordinaire. But one thing is not endurable. He spits his tobacco liquid into a tin can that makes this little "ping" sound every time he spits in it. So, all I hear for two hours is: "So, if the limit doesn't approach" "ping" "thing then it doesn't" "ping" "ist. You see, techincal" "ping" "speaking, if some" "ping" "approaches infinity it doesn't have a li" "ping."

The kid next to him wears hearing aides. Every day before class starts, he turns off the one in his right ear and cranks up the left one. How I envy the hearing impaired sometimes. While I am listening to baseball-zilla chomp his way to mouth cancer, he can learn calculus.

Monday, we had a test; Monday, my boyfriend decided to take an extra long shower and made us late. Monday, war was declared.

As I ran in just in time and headed for my normal seat, a tiny girl ninja-ed her way in front of me and sat in my seat. Well, haha--joke's on you. Enjoy not being able to focus on anything for the next hour and a half as you are serenaded to "Tobacco swill in F." But, sadly, there was a rather attractive looking Indian girl in Baseball Joe's usual spot. As further proof God hates me, the only spot left was in front of my professor, next to Baseball Joe. Feeling slightly homicidal, I approaced the seat-stealer after class and kindly asked her to "please let me have my seat next time. I have such a hard time seeing the close to the board." (Lie). To which she responded "Not my problem, Baby." She called me Baby. Seriously. I have resolved to make her life horrible in that class. I haven't decided how yet, but I feel like Baseball Joe may be my ace in the hole. Stay tuned for the resultant warfare. This seat is too good to let go of so easily.