BC Separation Anxiety is a blog in which I lament all things BC related that I will miss this summer. The whining is rampant.
This is less of a case of BC Separation Anxiety and more of a case of BC FOMO. For those of you who aren’t familiar with FOMO it’s an acronymically entertaining way of expressing your “fear of missing out.” Everyone knows FOMO well; just think back to all of those winter breaks where you fudged which day your last final was on to stay and party just a littttttle bit longer. (Hi Mom. I would never do this ever, virtual pinky swear!)
Anyway my BC FOMO has been sparked by all this hot weather we’ve been having recently. The air-conditioning broke at work last week and I think my face melted off, put itself back together again, and then melted off again continuously for three days before my savior, the electrician, came to the rescue. I'm not insane, so I realize that it is not necessarily better to be in a city during heat waves. As perfectly demonstrated by the Lovin' Spoonful.
But regardless of how gritty the back of my neck gets, in the hot weather when I’m not locked in a library I go full-chameleon/salamander/Charmander and face plant on the ground somewhere with minimal clothing and SPF. It’s less of a tanning thing and more of a how-much-warmth-can-I-suck-up thing to counteract my usual octogenarian-like blood circulation.
If college has taught me anything thus far it’s that sun bathing is acceptable wherever, whenever, and on any pathetic scrap of grass imaginable while ON CAMPUS. See, I used capital letters there to emphasize that this lesson doesn’t carry over to the real world, where your boss makes shady comments about you trying to catch some sunshine on your coffee break.
At last we have come to my BC FOMO. I miss the BC Beach. And I’m not talking about that pathetic little fenced in tennis court off the Plex where I’m 90% sure that Pam is the only acceptable form of UV protection. I’m talking about the collective BC Beach, inclusive of the Quad, O’Neill Plaza, Bapst Lawn, St. Ignatius’s pseudo-quad, the Robsham triangle, 66 courtyard, the little patch of grass outside of STM Hall, the entirety of Newton Campus, and any dirty Mod lot that you can scrape up.
We aren’t renowned for our green space, but boy do we know how to utilize the tiny amount we have to the fullest. Any number of those aforementioned grassy knolls is sure to be crawling with chicks in bikinis and yoga shorts and bros attempting to slackline and work on their tank tan on sunny-ish days. Full sunshine isn’t even a requirement. Clouds can’t hold us back.
Meanwhile, out in the boring real world, I drive by parks on parks on parks on my way to and from work every day and they’re all sadly devoid of tanners/slackliners/fun. What are parks good for if not lawn napping? Do you expect me to jog there? Hah. Hah. Hah. That’s cute.
It is summer after all, so I’ve gotten in my fair share of beach runs. And I don’t mean to be an ingrate because the beach is amazing. Sleeping on a towel is just something that I generally excel at, be it beach or grass. I live for rolling around in sand and getting a free full-body exfoliating scrub plus seaweed wrap. But true to my chameleon/salamander/Charmander-self, I do love a good grass nap. The real world doesn’t agree. How dare you real world, you have killed my sunbathing vibe with your fun-sucking ways.
I’m not sure if this trend reflects our generation’s general abhorrence for clothing and general disregard for the dangers of skin cancer or if it reflects the universal adult affinity for being boring. Probably the latter. So BC Beach, I await our reunion in August with baited breath. We shall have fabulous naps together again, and any disapproving real-worlders can kiss my bronze bum.
Photos by Billy Foshay/Gavel Media.