Lately it seems as though I’ve become prey to tourists asking for direction. I don’t know what it is about me that leads them to swarm and attack with buzzing questions like “Where can we find the museum of natural history?” and “What’s that building over there with the huge stairs and pillars? Do you happen to know when it was built?” I understand that whenever Harvard’s campus isn’t covered in icicles the tourists take it as an invitation to invade but COME ON. I’m not a walking information center, the real is in the Holyoke center. Au Bon Pain marks the spot people!

Today I had to explain where it can be found to a deaf couple for whom I had to draw a detailed map and pantomime the directions. My favorite tourist encounter was with an elderly woman who streamlined toward me as I was passing out the March issue of the Voice. She wanted to know how to get to Memorial Church but proceeded to interrogate me about dorms, dining plans, tuition costs, my social life, and even the profile of Harvard’s minority population. Seriously. At some point I kindly gave her the tip to go and Google what she wanted to know because, frankly, the internet knows more about this school than I do.

To think that this weekend I am going to be prone to these kinds of attacks by a clueless hoard of a thousand admitted students except they will want to know where the party is and not how to find the nearest bathroom. My prefrosh won’t know what she got herself into when I hand her a map and give her a pat on the back to send her on her way because I ain’t dealing with it no more.