Maddie Woda

My father spent his life outside, nestled between the Appalachian foothills and the Ohio River. I, on the other hand, was no Laura Ingalls Wilder. I much preferred to read about the great outdoors than see it myself.

We ran into each other by the stone bench outside Lerner Hall, one of us on our way to the NSOP comedy power-hour, the other sucked into conversation with a few new friends. Having met briefly the night before on a Carman floor lounge, we were both excited to see a familiar face. We spent the evening getting to know one another, romping around campus, and flirting a little bit. Expectations were a consistent theme in our conversation. Who did we expect to meet in college? How could we make our experiences exceed the high school expectations we had each carried with us to New York City?