Friday morning, Oct. 1, 7:45 am: I watch a group of guys, whose names are probably Chad or Kyle and call each other “bro,” haul a large tent through the middle of campus. I am not surprised people decided to set up tents this early, as I have a friend who is setting up one right around this time. I, however, have class at 8 a.m., so I won’t be setting up my tent until later.
2:30 p.m.: I walk down the hall to Jackson’s room to ask to borrow his tent. He happily hands it over and I thank him profusely. Across the hall, I also get Sophie’s fold-out chair to use for hanging out during the evening and then sitting in line in the morning. I take them back to my room and begin to pack all of my gear.
5:54 p.m.: My friend Emma (blonde hair) and I walk overloaded with my stuff. Since she has a hike early the next morning, she isn’t staying the night, but she was nice enough to help me carry my tent, chair and pillow to the campsite. I text my other friend Emma (red hair) to ask where her tent is, and she tells me it’s the smallest yellow tent you’ll ever see. When we locate it, I decide that I agree with her sentiment.
6:11 p.m.: Blonde Emma and I hunt down popsicles from the little cart that they have sitting by the Ritchie Center. We also see Snarf’s sandwiches and people carrying around boxes of Cane’s chicken fingers. Music blares from the cakewalk, and we weave around the games of cornhole through the thick grass to get back to my gear. We get the tent all set up behind red-haired Emma’s and toss my backpack inside. It’s grey, blue, green and small (but still bigger than the little yellow tent). It seems cozy, and I’m excited about the night I’m going to get to spend in it. The other Emma and I head to get dinner in the dining hall before the hockey practice since we were a little late to the party and missed the food.
7:14 p.m.: We make our way back to the Ritchie Center and find red-haired Emma and her friends watching the practice, so we join them. We watch the team chuck each other into the walls and get sent to the penalty box as the competition heats up. I’m surprised that the players would fight their own teammates, but someone reminds me that we really came to a fight where every once and a while some hockey will break out. There are even some students cheering and banging their hands on the plexiglass. We leave shortly before the practice is over to investigate the “disco skate” that’s supposed to be happening after.
8:37 p.m.: We’re some of the first people in the practice arena directly off of Magness, where they frequently have open skate hours during the week. The ice is gleaming and looks tempting, but I know I have to wait to skate on the actual hockey arena, which is enticing all on its own. I lace up the black skates that the lady at the counter gave me and make a neat pile of my other belongings along the wall. I wobble as I stand up, getting used to the thin platform that the skates provide. The room gets more and more crowded as people join with their skates and wait patiently for the rink to be cleared and the ice smoothed.
9:05 p.m.: They finally let us on the rink to skate. A lot of the songs they play are classics, and I want to dance along, but I’m still getting used to the feeling of the ice beneath my feet. Once I find my footing, it’s fun to zoom around and watch the varying levels of expertise of those also on the ice. There’s a girl in the middle who is spinning like a professional figure skater, and people who know how to skate backward as well. There are also people who cling to the wall, shuffling along, figuring out how to balance on the ice. We go round and round in circles, bobbing to the music, and I try to keep my friends close so we can talk as we skate.
10:18 p.m.: My legs feel tired and my ankles are starting to give out, so blonde Emma and I go to take our skates off. We wobble back to our shoes, and my ankles are still recovering as we walk back to my dorm. Once there, I grab a few extra essentials: my white puffy jacket, my laptop, and my Airpods. I drop her off at her dorm on the way back and walk through the cold night air to see if I can find red-haired Emma.
Friday Night, 10:58 p.m.: I arrive back at the “campground.” There are people sitting in circles with their fold-out chairs, listening to music. I walk past a tent and based on what I hear, I think they’re watching “Twilight.” I find red-haired Emma sitting with a group of people watching “The Mighty Ducks,” which is the movie the DUPB picked for tonight, projected on the wall of the Cable Center. It’s about halfway done, so I get some popcorn and watch almost all the way to the end, until Insomnia Cookies show up and a frenzy ensues. I do not get a cookie.
11:58 p.m.: Emma and I separate, and when I find her again she’s in a red Coleman tent with string lights hung on the inside. I join the group of girls huddled around a box of cupcakes, and we play some Uno while music squeals from a little speaker on the ground. I get more and more sleepy before deciding to head back to my tent, and Emma comes with me.
Saturday Morning, October 2, 1:05 a.m.: I sit in my little folding chair outside of Emma’s tent; she’s huddled just inside the mouth of it. We talk about music, running, and life. Emma is running a half marathon the next weekend, so we work on her “motivational music” playlist and find out we have really similar tastes in music. I learn about her life and friends in Maine, what she did over her gap year, and what she wants to do in the future. She learns about my family and what it’s like in Texas. When we exhaust those topics, we make a plan of who is going to take what shifts standing in line—whenever the line begins—and make sure that our phone ringers are turned on so we can communicate with one another. I decide to try and get some sleep.
2:15 a.m.: I finally make my way back to my tent and set up my blanket and pillow, placing my phone next to my head, and putting on as many layers as I have. I put in my Airpods to play some nature sounds because there is still music and noise everywhere around me. I drift off, my hood tucked up around my head, in the freezing cold.
4:30 a.m.: The alarm I set goes off, and I text Emma to see if they’re ready for the first shift. She texts back that she and the two friends staying in her tent have been up this whole time, and that they have been checking to see if the line has started. They plan to check again at 5:15. Happy that I’m not the one who has to get out from under my blanket yet, I decide I feel satisfied with this arrangement and try to get some more sleep.
5:08 a.m.: I wake up abruptly to the sound of a hand slapping at the side of my tent. I hear Emma’s voice saying, “it’s happening!” I sit up more slowly than I feel I should, pull on my tennis shoes, make sure I have my phone, grab my folding chair, and run to join them. The line already looks kind of long, but I try not to worry about it. I just have to sit. And wait.
6:04 a.m.: It seems so cold, and I really have to go to the bathroom. I get one of Emma’s friends to go with me, though we’re afraid to miss anything so we go fast. The air is warm inside the Ritchie Center, and I let myself bask in it briefly before enduring the cold again, going back out to sit. And wait.
7:15 a.m.: Light is just starting to peek up in the sky, making me hopeful and tired all at the same time. There is the ripple of a rumor going around that they’re supposed to show up with doughnuts and coffee soon. We play music and play games on our phones, and just talk. When the doughnuts arrive, I make sure that I get one. I haven’t eaten anything since dinner last night, and I’m starving. Emma eats a granola bar, and we both turn down the coffee. The anticipation elevates as it is getting closer to 8 a.m., but we sit on the ground. All I can think about is how tired I am.
7:58 a.m.: We see adults coming out of the Ritchie Center, and everyone is on their toes, like little birds waiting to take flight. We all wonder if they’re really going to make us wait until exactly 8 o’clock to get tickets. With tapping toes and humongous sighs, we resign ourselves to one truth: it appears they are.
8:01 a.m.: They finally let us go, and it’s a run for the stairs up to the ticket booth. We get stuck about halfway up the stairs, and then the count begins and the rumors fly. How many tickets are they really giving out? How many people are there in front of us? Why are there only two ticket booths open? How did those people get in line before us? I’m stressed, adrenaline is pumping in my blood and I’m so tired I feel like I could fall over. Then, we wait.
8:15 a.m.: We stand in line for what feels like an eternity, even longer than the three hours we waited to get to this point. We creep closer and closer to the ticket booth. At one point, someone says that there’s only a certain amount left, and we’re not sure if all three of us together will get one. There’s a moment where we all look at each other and wonder if we’re going to have to fight it out for this. I never imagined battling for this, especially not with my friends, but it’s taken too long to get to this moment. I decide there and then I’m not going to lose. Then, someone else says not to worry because there’s a whole box of tickets left. We sigh and wait some more.
8:20 a.m.: I walk away from the ticket booth, past the cheerleaders in their leggings waving their pom-poms, past the line of people behind me, past the chairs and tents and empty food boxes, clutching the Golden Ticket in my hand. I feel relieved, rewarded, and am relishing this moment. My first campout and I got the Golden Ticket. I pack up my stuff, planning all the while to go back to my dorm, shower and pass out asleep. I march back to the dorm with all of my stuff weighing me down, but feeling light as air with the Golden Ticket bouncing on my chest, already dreaming of the hockey games to come.
