I got goosebumps when I saw the incandescent Julia Roberts strut into the Hasty Pudding Theater to receive her Pudding Pot as the band wailed "Pretty Woman."

There were rude awakenings--and sleepings.

There was that fine April morning when I woke up to see snow nipping at the vines of ivy-covered walls, learning--to my dismay--that the several white inches that meant panic to my suburban high school meant little to the Rulers of University Hall.

There was that fine June afternoon that I fell asleep after snagging a front row seat at Madeleine K. Albright's Commencement address (my apologies again, Madam Secretary).

You too will await the verdict of housing lottery gods, maybe spending that fateful night curled up in your future roommates' room, on an odd-smelling couch that has been who-knows-where.

You too will say goodbye to your proctor after he is fired for partying with students and alcoholic refreshment during exams. (Well, maybe that one was just me.)

Not everything will happen Your First Year.

The angry philosophical debates about libertarianism at 3 a.m. may not come before June, but they will come. So will the e-mails accidentally sent to just the wrong person. So will the GSFHs.

When the mini-van, or the train, or the taxi, or the bus or the magic carpet whisks you close to the wrought-iron gates of your new home, the journey will have only begun.

Enjoy the ride.

--Andrew K. Mandel '00 is associate managing editor and news comp director of the Crimson.