This past week I rode the most terrifying roller coaster I’ve ever ridden before.
The whole experience, believe it or not, really got me to thinking about being homesick my freshman year at Hanover. Confused? Let me explain.
Before I got on this particular roller coaster, I was already shaking, sweating and anxious about getting on the ride at all. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I kept telling my sister (the reason I was being dragged on the ride in the first place) that if I could just know ahead of time what it would be like, it would be easier to ride. But no amount of explanation could have prepared me for this gut-busting experience.
We got on the ride safely and securely, but as soon as I was strapped in, I am ashamed to say, I started bawling. In front of children. And teenagers. And parents. Bawling.
Nevertheless, I stayed on. We started going up to the top. I was officially panicking. My sister, of course, was both laughing and embarrassed. After all, how often do adults cry on roller coasters?
At the pinnacle, this particular ride stopped you right before you went down so that you could stare down the 90 degree drop you were about to meet head-on. For more terrifying info, click here –> http://www.griffoncoaster.com/
As I stared straight down at this veritable feat of geometry, all I could think was, “You are going straight down… Straight into the ground!”
And then we dropped. My stomach was literally in my ears. I was screaming, crying and in every way freaking out. I closed my eyes for most of the ride because I didn’t want to see it when I splat straight into the machinery below.
You know the picture they take just as you head down the first drop? Let me tell you, this one was a keeper. I look like an infant that desperately needs changing.
In any case, I survived. I had ridden the ride of doom and gotten off without a scratch. I was, however, still needlessly angry at my sister for making me ride the 90 degree stomach-turner. However, after a few hours of pouting and shaking and wishing I had never ridden it in the first place, I found myself wishing I could ride it again. Now that I knew what to expect, I felt like something of a pro.
Its much the same with Hanover. Being homesick is no fun. When you’re homesick, the first few weeks at Hanover can feel much like the roller coaster I rode. You may not know what to expect. You may dread every minute of it. You may regret coming and wish you could just leave.
If you’re like me, you may even cry your eyes out – I mean literally bawl – when your parents leave you in your dorm on move-in day.
We’ve all been there.
But if you tough it out, wait awhile and find the courage to invest yourself in the experience, you may find yourself feeling like the Hanoverian pro that you will become. Everyone gets homesick. But it’s not everyone who can look past missing home and find where you belong at Hanover.