College really wasn’t an option for me.
Not that it was an impossible thing. My parents were going to make sure that I went to college. It was not an option in the fact that it was always assumed that I was going to go. It was only a matter of where.
Even though we didn’t have enough money to repair a water heater, my parents were going to send me to a private college, not a state school.
That could have saved us some money, but I ended up applying to ridiculous colleges, like Georgetown. I never really had my heart set on anywhere, so I employed the “shotgun” approach to my application process. My SAT scores and high school transcript were enough to get me accepted everywhere.
I never had my heart set on anywhere. Privately, what I was looking for was a way to make the financial burden easier on my parents. My ultimate decision was American University, primarily because they offered me a good scholarship.
I joked that American was the furthest away from my parents I could get without leaving the country.
My parents said that they could take care of the rest and I had to believe them.
The next thing I know, I’m hopping a plane to Washington DC.
Well, more accurately, I’m late running through a San Diego airport terminal, to board a plane to Washington DC. This occurred in 1993. This is an alternate history America where they could open a door after it’s already been shut to let a last minute passenger in.
Even a brown one.