CHAPEL HILL, NC—Leading a group of parents and prospective students across Polk Place this Thursday, junior admissions ambassador Tyler Harris became increasingly certain that everyone on the tour knew he was high, so high.
Harris began to suspect that people knew of his increased state of awareness when a girl in a North Mecklenburg cross country T-shirt asked him whether it was difficult to balance a social life and academics.
“No man, there’s time for everything,” Harris said, wondering whether the girl, standing in the front row, could tell his eyes were red. “Why would you ask me that? I balance stuff just fine, you know?”
As Harris’ group filed past him into Lenoir Hall, Harris took a moment to sniff his alpaca hoodie, trying to determine if he still smelled like marijuana. Harris could not smell anything, but he was too high to know for sure. Harris normally smoked a bowl before tours, but maybe hot-boxing Max’s car hadn’t been a good idea.
Harris squinted as he talked to the group in the Pit. It was bright, and he really wanted to rub his eyes, but worried that would give it away.
“One of the unique things about UNC is our first-year seminar program. It lets first-year students take smaller classes on a variety of subjects. I became a geography major after I took a first-year seminar and fell in love with the department,” said Harris, afraid the parents of the nerdy looking kid from Vermont were whispering about how high he was.
Were they whispering about him? What if they know? Oh shit, oh shit, he thought, as he walked towards Davis Library.
The stop in Davis Library was especially nerve-racking for Harris, who always thought the bald dude at Circulation looked at him funny. Today though he was surely staring. Why was he staring? Harris tugged at his hoodie, trying to adopt a sober-looking pose, but he could not be sure if his volume was appropriate.
Why were they all leaning in? Why did they care so much if he was high? Everyone needed to chill.
As the group walked toward the Old Well, Harris looked wistfully at the benches next to the Steele Building. He wished he could just sit down for a minute. Maybe, Harris thought, he should stop smoking dank shit like Northern Lights if it was going to be a heavy tour day.
A couple and their son split off from the group. Were they going to tell someone he was high? What a dick move. Harris shot a look at the South Building, hoping he could finish this tour as soon as possible.
He fingered the pill bottle he had in his pocket, which still held two joints. He really needed to light one up and just relax.