Move-in day dawned on the beautiful city of New Orleans. I awoke to a combination of hope and exhaustion, unique to a soon-to-be-freshman who’d tried and failed to sleep through eight hours of snoring roommates.
Unfazed, I leapt out of bed, eager to make the drive to campus with my mother by 8:00. During the drive, I pondered the first few days I’d spend at my new college. Television and movies had prepared me for wild parties, loud music and an eat-or-be-eaten environment. I gripped the collapsible crate in my lap, full of gadgets I’d never seen before, like easy-to-store sweater-shelf-bookcase-towel-racks that also charged cell phones. Would I be ready for such a habitat?
Finally, at 10:30 (we got lost), we pulled up to Loyola University New Orleans. At last, my college experience could start! However, as I unloaded my shoe-storage-ottoman-shower-radio from the car, I began to notice something, a familiar air, if you will, as I thumbed through my welcome folder and read the numerous announcements inside. The campus, awash in maroon and gold, poked at my memory for reasons I did not understand.
At last, my memory, jolted by the sight of the maroon-and-gold-striped ties worn by much of the administration, came through.
In the Hogwarts that was New Orleans, Loyola was Gryffindor House.
In the days after my revelation, I discovered more support for my conclusion: the boast-worthy library, the Great Hall-like Danna Student Center and even the process of showing our ID’s (passwords) to Residential Life (portrait holes).
I discovered the people at Loyola to be quite worthy of the characteristics of courage and chivalry as I experienced their general desire to branch out into the unknown and unexpected (and their knack for holding doors for people—Southern hospitality at its finest, and I come from the South). I even found Slytherin House, under the alias “Tulane University”, across the street.
Naturally, my Gryffindor-as-Loyola metaphor didn’t work for everything. I noted the froyo-colored lobbies of the residence halls, the absence of four- poster beds and the lack of Weasley descendants in attendance. However, my first few weeks here at Loyola have proved to be a familiar, nearly-seamless transition, as if J.K. Rowling had simply typed my character into the familiar world of her books.
During my first few weeks at Loyola, I have found that my expectations of a stereotypical college experience have been wrong—sort of. I have often stumbled upon a loud game of Werewolf at 1:30 a.m. or caught the sounds of a trumpeter jamming in a practice room (along with a piano, two violins and a soprano).
I have discovered that it behooves me to get up an hour earlier for my 9:30 a.m. class so I can get milk in the Orleans Room before it runs out. However, I’ve discovered the truth: in Hogwarts, the word “stereotypical” ceases to exist. I think my toothbrush-holding-alarm-clock- water-filtration-system and I are going to be very happy for the next four years.
Kylee McIntyre is a mass communication freshman. She can be reached at [email protected].
In My Opinion is a weekly column open to any Loyola student. Those interested in contributing can contact [email protected].
