Author: Molly Sloss, SEAS’14
I never thought I would hate a cardboard box. My last week at Penn, the brown cubes on wheels became a new nemesis. Room by room, microwave by microwave, they were taking my freshman year away from me.
With the start of the last week of exams, in rolled the goodbye machines. Vans and trucks with plates from Ohio, New Jersey, Maryland, and New York arrived on campus. Shortly after, the streets were filled with caravans of cardboard move-out carts. Some were filled with mini-fridges, some with stuffed animals, some with freshmen taking turns pushing each other down Locust. Yes, that was me. Don’t tell the staff at Hill that’s why I renewed my cart 4 times. So eventually I found a way to embrace these boxes from hell. But it was not an easy feat.
I started to count down the time I had left with my friends by how full their carts were. One empty cart got me about an hour of time before goodbye. Then my friends’ rooms were empty. Their blankets that I slept with were boxed up, their food that I ate thrown out, and their whiteboards were no longer available for late-night self-expression. All of these things were in boxes. The boxes went in carts, then in vans where they were joined by their owners and before I knew it we were rising sophomores. All thanks to those cardboard carts.