Once in the main portion of the lower part of the gatehouse, my mouth drops open. A large chandelier hangs from the vaulted ceiling. There is a school crest in the marble floors, and scattered seating of plush leather chairs is interspersed among large ferns. Soft classical music plays in the background, accompanied by the scent of plumeria. Every inch screams upper crust.
One other person is seated in the corner. Otherwise it’s empty.
For twenty minutes, I sit waiting to be told I can proceed to Regents Hall to meet Dr. Fraine, watching the time and wondering what’s taking so long.
“Ms. Ahrens,” another uniformed officer approaches. “Follow me.”
At the oversized double doors leading into the campus, he points to a large sign. “Please read this.”
Refrain from taking pictures or video.
Wait for an officer to escort you to and from your destination on campus.
Do not speak to students or faculty unless spoken to.
Breaking any of these rules results in a lifetime ban.
Good God.
I should’ve just canceled like I’d wanted to a couple days ago. Is it too late? I thought this was a higher learning institution, not a club of insane privilege and exclusivity.
My shakiness ramps up as I follow the no-nonsense guard from the building onto the property, walking along a wide stone path. I’m in awe as I look around me.
How is this real life?
Cornell University is arguably one of the most beautiful campuses in the country, but this eclipses it. The stone buildings, covered in ivy, are tucked among mature, towering trees. A stream winds through the campus, which is set up in a figure eight. Flowerbeds with perfectly curated blooms look almost artificial; they're so immaculate.
The Regents building rises tall at the center. Unlike the bustle of Cornell, this campus is eerily quiet. We pass only a couple of students in their world-famous green blazers.
By the time we reach the reception area outside Dr. Fraine’s office, I’m jittery. The officer instructs me to wait here after the appointment is over to get escorted off the campus.
I nod at him, wide-eyed.
Taking a seat next to a red-eyed student clutching her green blazer draped over her lap, I’m not put at any ease when she starts sniffling.
She hangs her head, crying harder.
“Um, a-are you okay?”
Of course she’s not, idiot.
Damnit… it didn’t take long to break one of the rules.Do not speak to students or faculty unless spoken to.
