The Move Out (or how to fail at moving out of a dorm) PART 1.

This event took place on the second weekend of May 2010. It was a
Friday.

     Uhaul? Check. Boxes packed? Check. Dorm Checklist? Check. These were the thoughts that I had on Thursday, as I was having thoughts about moving out of the dorm. Everytime that I have moved, in my adult life, things have never gone as planned. I was determined that this was going to be different. I had until Friday, 5pm, to move out, but since my last exam was Thursday, Friday had to be the day.  I had to move my stuff to storage, get checked out of the room and catch a bus to Dallas by 4pm and there was no room for error. I had lined up everything perfectly. You now the saying of the 6 Ps (Proper Preperation Prevents Piss Poor Performance)? I was going to be THAT guy.

Oh, how silly of me to think things would go my way.

I get up Friday Morning, 9 am. I had reserved a pickup truck to be ready at 11am.  I got a ride to the U-haul, picked up my truck and got to the dorm. So far, so good, right? WRONG! As I pull up to the dorm, a flash flood warning is sounded. A rapidly forming thunderstorm was making it's way into the region. As soon as I got out of the truck, it starts pouring. Buckets of rain. I had yet to start moving my boxes out.

So, I get the RA to come and start checking my room. He then informs me that he can't start checking out my room until the boxes were out. SO, I had to move my boxes out of the room. In a torrential downpour. So, as you can imagine, I was EXTREMEMLY happy about this. After this feat was accomplished, the RA has several small things that he would like to have cleaned up.  I did them.  He came back and pointed out several more.

     Now, at this point, I am starting to get pissed.  I had already (I thought) cleaned the room, along with my roommate.  All my stuff is in the open bed of the truck getting wet/soaked.  I had to be out of the dorm by 5pm or risk getting a $100 cleaning charge.  I had to take my stuff to storage, still.  I had to get the U-haul back so that I could catch a bus, to Dallas.  ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS LEAVE.

     Finally, the RA looks at me.  He looks around one last time.  He shrugs.  Sensing my frustration, he signs off on the room.  I get to the truck, thinking the worst part of the day was over.  It was now 2:30.  I was way behind schedule.  But, I made space for that "just in case" time in my planning.  So I thought to myself, "All good.  Get to the storage, take the u-haul back and you still have an hour to spare."  What could get worse, right?