It was shortly after midnight. My phone wasn’t working, the power was out and my mountaineering career was rapidly evaporating.
Have you ever have one of those days when nothing seems to work out the way you planned?
My day had started well. I had gone rock climbing on Cathedral Ledge in North Conway, New Hampshire. North Conway is one of the greatest outdoor adventure towns in the country. It is the Mecca of eastern climbing. It has some of the best ice climbing in the nation, six ski areas within half an hour and phenomenal rock climbing five minutes from town. I used to live in North Conway. I used to climb on Cathedral Ledge every day. No longer though. I had become a weekend warrior.
It can be tough being a college mountaineer. Some people go to the University of Colorado in Boulder, and some go to SUNY New Paltz, where climbing is minutes away. Climbing magazines review colleges near climbing areas the same way they compare headlamps and backpacks. None of the reviews ever included the University of Southern Maine. But Portland is only an hour and 15 minutes from North Conway, so I wasn’t about to complain. It just meant that my first semester back at college would require many trips back and forth.
Thursday and Friday I could often be found in the hallways outside of class whispering into my cell phone, trying to line up partners for the next two days. I work at IME, one of the several gear stores in North Conway, every Saturday night. My standard routine consisted of climbing until four on Saturday, working until eight, crashing at a friend’s house and then trying for one more day on Sunday before heading back to Portland. The only variable was the weather. Rain on Tuesday was a drag. Rain on Sunday would ruin my week. Mondays were rough regardless of the weather, because I could see Mount Washington from my classroom window in Gorham.
But this week I had important business back in Portland. Sunday night at midnight marked the beginning of sophomore class signup. I had determined I would be the first person calling the IVR system the moment the clock struck 12.
In August I had moved to Portland to get educated. After a couple years of playing in the mountains, I had enrolled in school with noble intentions, but by late October I was having second thoughts. I missed climbing. I wanted to ski over the winter. I wanted to ice climb. There were climbs I had yet to do. School was great, but I had to find a way to climb as well.
So I concocted a plan. I had ski patrolled for the past several years at Scrawny Peak. It got me out and it allowed me to pay rent. What if I patrolled again this year? What if I got my full time class schedule down to just two days a week and I patrolled three days a week? What if I moved back up to North Conway and commuted to Portland? Shawnee is primarily night skiing. I could get full time hours with double shifts. And I would ski a ton. And I would be back up in the thick of outdoor adventure.
My plan hinged on one point. Actually my plan hinged on many points, but one was more prominent than the rest: I needed all my classes to take only two days of the week. So I got the little green course guide and looked up what I wanted. I made sure everything could fit together. I got it all squeezed into two days. I looked around for possible substitutes. No luck. I had only one chance at freedom. If any of the classes were full, my winter would be spent in Portland dreaming of mountains. So it was Tuesdays and Thursdays, with all my eggs in one basket. As a sophomore, I was near the end of the line when it came to registering, but I figured if I got at it early it might work.
On that fateful day I got all the CRN and SSN and PIN numbers in front of me so there would be no confusion. I called to make sure I had the right telephone number. I tested my PIN to be sure everything would run smoothly. Then I sat back and waited for midnight.
And soon the trouble began. After a day of climbing I was in no shape to stay up late. The morning’s alpine start had begun to take its toll on me. I blinked slow, four second blinks. I leaned back to rest and then jolted forward. I tried to think of things to do. I called friends. No one was around. I tried to read. No luck. I reorganized gear for the next weekend’s climb. I fought the urge to sleep.
Slowly, painfully, the clock approached midnight. I looked at my cell phone. In my dazed state, I squinted to see it clearly. My phone beeped and lit, displaying “Low Battery.” I groaned in disbelief, and plugged it in, hoping it would make it through the call. I looked at the clock. 11:55. Almost there.
I brushed my teeth and got in bed, my phone and the numbers by my side. I pulled up the covers and leaned back to wait out the last two minutes until Monday.
The lights flickered, my alarm clock winked, and then the power went out.
After a moment of hyperventilation, I found my backpack full of climbing gear. In the dark I dug around in the top pocket. I found my headlamp and crawled back in bed.
I looked at my phone. It was 12:02. I was late. I hit the redial button. My phone beeped. “Low Battery.” I swore. It rang.
I had never used the IVR system before. I did not know that when 500 other people are on the same system at the same time, it tends to slow things down. I typed in my student ID number. Nothing happened. I waited about thirty seconds. Nothing. I hung up. I’ll try again, I decided. I dialed. Busy. Again. Busy. Again. Busy.
It was now 12:08. I was panicking. I wanted those classes. I tried again. It rang. I entered my student ID number. Nothing. I waited. Eventually a voice prompt began, and my phone beeped: “Incoming Call.” It was one of my stupid friends returning my stupid call. I tried to ignore it, but somehow it messed up the system. The voice informed me that I had chosen an invalid option. I threw back my head and let out some words I save for special occasions.
I had lost all hope. I sat in my bed, not really expecting much, and I listened. Nothing. I decided to wait. After what seemed like hours, the prompt was repeated. I pushed buttons. I waited. A voice again and more buttons. The entire process took forever. One by one, my five choices fell. One by one, the stars aligned. And little by little, my climbing future brightened, until I had all of the classes I wanted.
I was reluctant to hang up the phone when the process was over. I didn’t want to miss some crucial conformation aspect of the process and lose all my choices. My phone took care of it for me though: the battery died moments after the voice said, “Thank you.” I laid back in my bed, exhausted, thinking how stressful the whole procedure had been. Falling asleep I realized the next problem: I had no place to live.