So seniors: we’re graduating. This is it, the day, the weekend, the week we’ve all been waiting for. Family flies and drives in, you start talking to ‘friends’ you’ve curiously found a way to avoid for three and a half years. It’s a grand time.

To be honest, I’m not that sentimental about graduating. Or, at least I’m trying to convince myself of that now.

Fast forward to 25 years down the road, I’m driving my son to his third consecutive day of Little League practice. It’s gotten so incessant that I’ve come to hate the sport I once loved as a kid. Then again, I don’t want to go home, my wife and other kids are there.

And then, I realize, I’ve become my father. Maybe then, I miss school.

In all seriousness, graduation for most seniors is like death, taxes and that regrettable one night stand – unavoidable.

One of my biggest fears is I won’t keep in touch with those friends of mine outside my close circle. Not because I won’t remember. Not because I don’t want to. No, my biggest concern is not knowing their e-mail.

There has to come a point when you can no longer have an e-mail ending in @syr.edu. The question I lose sleep over is, when will that point occur?

Everywhere I go, people seem to feel the need to remind me I’m graduating.

Head over to Faegan’s, there’s a ‘Day’s Left’ counter on the wall. Don’t worry though, if you can’t see it for some reason, they’ll shout it out every few minutes.

Well, at least Facebook photo albums are doing their part. ‘Is this the end!?!’ and ‘Last Night!’

You can’t even talk to anyone anymore without it being the central topic of the conversation. It surrounds me so much I’ve even found myself sucked into this state. If there’s even a moment lapse in a conversation, I immediately ask the question of all questions.

‘So, what’s going on with you after all this?’

Subtle enough, but the real question is, ‘Why am I even asking, when we both know neither of us really care?’

I relate it a lot to going or coming back from any school break. When you come back from Spring Break, it’s a guarantee.

‘So, how was your break?’

The second you’re done asking is the second you stop paying attention. At that point, you either are counting down the seconds until you can tell them what better plans you had, or just move on to something that is at least mildly stimulating.

OK, so I don’t like those conversations. Maybe I’m just a selfish jerk, that’s entirely possible and more than likely true. But my real question is, what is everyone so worried about missing here at Syracuse? Let’s review.

It can’t be the sports scene. If we can be fair about one thing, it’s this: there has been very little to get excited or miss about anything athletic at this school. Then again, those pretzels at the Dome were a royal treat.

For the men, it certainly can’t be the women.

Kidding.

Actually, for the women, it most certainly can’t be the men. I’m living proof of that.

It can’t be going to class. I have cousins who constantly tell me they ‘would love to be able to go back to school and just take a class on, oh, I don’t know, forensic science.’

No. I was in one of those classes, it wasn’t that fun. I can’t be the only one at least slightly relieved I’m done taking exams or writing in blue books or logging onto Blackboard or worrying if I’ve used my printer quota or writing papers that make no sense but somehow get a passing grade.

So, what the heck is it then? I’ll give you a second to guess.

The answer is simple: you just can’t buy beer for that cheap anywhere else. Dollar drafts? Get the hell out of here.

I’m sure something about ‘having friends’ will surface as some people’s answer to that question. I’ll buy that one, but in a distant second to beer prices. Gas can go up as high at it wants; you don’t have to drive to Chuck’s.

And so, as it all ends, I’m left with only one recourse. After four years, it’s the only conversation filler I have left in my arsenal. What was that you ask? What am I doing after I graduate?

Well, I’m renting a one-bedroom place in my parents’ place. The beer is more expensive, and the only woman that lives there is my mom. Maybe I will miss college.

Scott Spinelli used to write a column for The Daily Orange, but alas, is graduating. His new e-mail is scott.spinelli@gmail.com. No more of that @syr nonsense, he’s a grown-up now. How’s that for a Rugrats term?

Published on May 6, 2008 at 12:00 pm