Finals

F.I.N.A.L.S.

That's F!$@ I Never Actually Learned S!$# for those of you who aren't members.

Its a group on campus. I'm a member.

In no final is this more apparent than math.

I can do dervatives. I can do integrals. Limits? not so much.

And none of these when my professor is trying to trick me with questions that have sudden pitfalls in them and require creative solutions.

Guess what I was doing all last night?

Eating pancakes. But before then I was studying calculus. Lots and lots of calculus. I went to the final exam review sesson, I worked through all the questions he posted on the internet. So, when I woke up at 6am this morning, I knew one thing: It was Gametime, bitches. (oops, B!#$%es)

2 problems. I know when the math final is (8am) but not really where (Science building, its across the parking lot!) And the fact that I really can't fail this because my grades have not been the best.

Oh, don't worry. Passing probably would happen. I wanted at 3.2 GPA in the class.

This is when all you folks at home that took calc freshmen year go "Ohhhhh. Yeah that's hard."

Anyway, its gametime. I put on the gametime music on my computer, took my shower, printed out a bunch of problems to go through before the exam started, grabed money to buy a pack of doughnuts and a coke from the vending machine.

Problem A is solved when I find a building that in size 10 billion font has written on the side "SCIENCE BUILDING"

I walk to room 1001. Its 7:36, more than enough time before my final. I open the door and...

A bunch of kids with an exam and graphing claculators look at me.

Slightly controlled panic: unleashed. Time slowed down, my brain kicked into overdrive. Little details, like the pink ribbon in the girl's hair that is sitting in the back corner of a lecture hall, become very apparent.

She didn't study.

Dude giving the test: "Can I help you?"

Inside Relimited's head: "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD"

Deciding that that was not a god reply, I failed to swollow my fear and went with my insticts.

Relimited: "Whoops. Wrong Room. Sorry."

Insert Tactical Retreat Here.

Now, after that debacle, I hadn't calmed down at all, so I sat on a bench and tore through my math book, looking for the right room.

Math Book: "Math Final. Rm 1001 Science Building. 10am-12"

Oh.

Well then.