That One Time,

Story time.

There’s this campus ministry called Chi Alpha.  About the third week of school, Tasia (the roomie) and I decided we were going to try to find it.

They’re kind of like ghosts.  We couldn’t find them.  There wasn’t anything on the internet, on the UH website, on Facebook —

and then I asked a friend who has lived up here for a while.  He informed me that the next meeting was the following night at 7 in the Social Work building.

Skipping forward a little: Tasia and I walked up to the Social Work building a little early and were surprised to see a long, organized line of students being greeted by men and women in navy/black business attire.  We stood by the door for a little bit, trying to figure out why it was so structured, but we shrugged and jumped into the middle of the line.  Where we were hugged by these gentlemen who introduced themselves and asked what our majors were.

Now that I think about it, they seemed a little confused, too, about the two athletic-clothed white girls in the line that was comprised solely of hispanics.

The details are a little hazy from that point, but I remember a table with about six different tablets and laptops set up, and somebody asking for my information.  I went along with it, and Tasia stepped aside to ask more questions — the next thing I knew, she was grabbing my arm, yelling, “abort, abort!”

It wasn’t until we were in the bathroom that she stopped laughing long enough to tell me that we had almost signed up for the Hispanic Engineering Club.

Neither of us are hispanic.  Or engineers.

When we slunk out of the bathroom, we saw the Chi Alpha sign hanging on the other side of the hallway.

And that, friends, is how I almost joined a campus club.  Ask me to tell this story to your face next time you see me; it’s a lot better that way.

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