As a Binghamton student, I’m busy. We Bearcats spend plenty of time bar hopping, trudging through snow, procrastinating, and avoiding our drunken hookups in C4 on a day-to-day basis. So could you believe my mom’s audacity when she asked me, burnt out from a hard night of work losing trivia at Tom and Marty’s, to spend two whole hours of my energy driving home to see her for winter break? What. A. Schlep. She doesn’t appreciate how hard I work, and how well those tuition bills are paying off. I made them pay off even more by day drinking on Parade Day instead of being home with the family. Blacking out on State Street in broad daylight was the true winter miracle. My sucker friends, guilt-tripped into 5+ hour drives to go see their families, ended up with car sickness and leg cramps. Guess what I got? A pounding headache, a dry throat and half an edible left over, so who’s really winning here?
I’m doing my mom a favor. By remaining in Bing, I utilized the 25 cents-a-month rent I’m paying to live in this shitty townhouse on the West Side. Pretty sure an owl took a shit on me when I was making breakfast the other day. Really added flavor to my French toast. Could I have gotten that at home? No, only my Bubbe’s homemade chicken soup, and I’m too nice to tell her it’s utterly flavorless. I have to salt that liquid crap like it’s a Binghamton sidewalk. Plus, think of all the gas money not driving saved, not to mention better for the environment. Can you believe my mom was encouraging me to fuck up the planet just so she could see me? And she's supposed to be a role model.
She just doesn't get the blood, sweat, tears and alcohol that go into being a Binghamton student. When I told her I was staying here for break, she said, “Tiff, I don’t understand. I haven't seen you in months, and the drive is just two hours.” Two hours better spent working off this hangover, Ma. Two more hours spent with my actual family, my bowl and grinder. Two more hours studying for the greatest test of my life: what percent Pisces I really am, according to Buzzfeed. If I don’t get at least a 95, I’m suing the company. That’s more important than homemade soup.
So I ask you this: were my parents worth the two-hour drive? I think you, I and the owl all know the answer.