by: Kayla Mitchell, Sam Gruetter
Public Relations Manager, Editor in Chief

Sept. 2, approximately 17 weeks away, will mark the separation of two tectonic forces. After meeting in elementary school and forming a unique connection that can only be described as extremely chaotic and dangerous to those around them, Sam Gruetter and Kayla Mitchell (we’ll see how long those last names remain different) will be forced to separate by the next chapter in life: college. Since California and Connecticut are farther apart than either of us can drive without crashing, we are developing an immutable summer plan to make the most of our last weeks together.

In our fourteen years of friendship, we have managed to perform almost all of the most common bucket list activities for friends: throwing juice boxes at power lines and trying to murder each other for a year straight before reconvening. So, because we have already experienced most stereotypical hangout activities, we have decided this list needs to reach a new level. Our first endeavor is practically a survivor mission. Our brilliant idea is to enter a forest with minimal supplies and simply live off the land. Reconnecting with our roots, if you will. And what could go wrong? If we don’t get out, we don’t have to be separated for college.

For any juniors studying for a challenging physics final, our next journey is a perfect example of the Doppler effect. You’re sitting at a red light when you hear a faint buzzing behind you. Suddenly, a small Honda Fit zooms by with a screeching, off-key chorus, and then the sound fades as it speeds away. Question: Why does the noise get so loud? Answer: shorter wavelengths and the fact that neither of us can sing in tune. While we frequently find ourselves zooming around holding chaotic dance parties in the car, this summer we’re turning it up a notch. Instead of respectfully lowering the volume at red lights to avoid embarrassment from fellow drivers, we’re turning every stoplight into a full-on mosh pit. Direct eye contact with strangers is required. Our goal? Make every passerby as uncomfortable as possible to derive the most fun for ourselves. On the same note, we aim to play a little game called an alphabet walk. As we encounter each fellow pedestrian, we plan to invoke a greeting titled with each letter of the alphabet, A-Z. These salutations would entail anything from a traditional “Good morning” to something a bit more unorthodox, like “Knock, knock. It’s me.”

While these methods for getting closer may seem unorthodox to the outside world, we would both counter that that is a key, defining factor of our tight-knit bond. Everybody called Enes Del Mar and Jack Twist “weird” and “gay” for spending prolonged amounts of time away from their wives on a mountain. Alone. Together. In a tent. Unlike them, as we go our separate ways, 3,000 miles apart, nobody will be able to get to know one without knowing about the other. Kayla and Sam, signing out.