What does it mean to be a freshman in college? Is it the beginning of the “time of your life” as everyone describes? The communal shower experience offers a new approach on what college life is actually like.

I package my items into my bag one by one—soap bar, shampoo, conditioner, washcloth—dreading what’s to come. I tighten my hold around my towel and take a deep breath before opening the door, hoping that I can remove my consciousness from my body.

With each squeaky step I take away from my dorm room, I get closer to the challenge that awaits me a few doors down. I creak the bathroom door open and enter the hot and humid jungle that awakens the frizz of my hair. The changing room’s metal door swings open, and I align my shower equipment tools along the shelf to prepare for the battle ahead.

I stand, vulnerable and meager, looking at the bright yellow curtain that hides my future behind it. With my thumb and my index finger, I carefully pinch the slimy curtain to allow my entry into the tiled cell with a fluorescent light that makes me feel as if I’m entering an interrogation. Disgust, ick, and claustrophobia swirl around in my consciousness. Quickly, I turn the squeaky dial three times and let out a sigh of relief when the water comes out clear.

After closing the curtain, I assess my surroundings: moldy ceilings, walls accessorized with thick, long black hair strands, and a stain on the bottom left corner that I do not want to know any information about. Focusing on getting the job done, I begin my washing regime, avoiding my surroundings and purposefully not looking down to see the wads of hair in the drain below me. 

As time ticks by, there are only minor difficulties such as the accidental butt-touch to a sticky shower wall, or the lack of water flow when someone flushes the toilet, or a new stain that catches my eye at the upper right corner of the shower, spiraling my thoughts that question the real origins. Despite these hurdles, I continue scrubbing and distracting my mind with an assortment of thoughts such as rewinding the conversations I had that day and questioning my specific choice of words or just humming tunes to another obnoxiously catchy song I heard that day—the sky’s the limit with distractions. 

After 10 minutes, I turn the dial the opposite way and pinch the shower curtain open to release myself from the cell. The steam scatters into the changing room and a rush of frigid, bitter air strikes my body: a cold welcome back into reality. I found myself weirdly craving the pelting warm water on the top of my head, despite all the drawbacks. After wrapping myself like a burrito in my towel once again, I head back towards my room with squeaking shower shoes that echo down the halls—not quite 100% clean, but clean enough. 

As I lay down on my bed, I realize that the freshman shower initiation represents the freshman experience. A weariness and fear lingers within all freshmen entering into a new territory. We open the curtains to our futures and shy away from the disgusting stains and gruesome lectures, but at the end of the day, we all go through this transitional experience together, maybe not literally in the same stalls, but with the similar experiences and a common understanding that links us all. Once we leave this enclosed atmosphere, that may seem claustrophobic while in it, there will be a point of reminiscing about the past—wanting the familiar space that kept us warm. In the end, when our showers are finally done, we will come out as new, improved people with experiences to last a lifetime.

A Shower via Bwog Archives