By: Kitty Cheung (Staff Writer), Mishaa Khan, Vivien Ying Qi Li, Jennifer Low (Features Editor), Nathaniel Tok
I fell into the Academic Quadrangle (AQ) Pond… and it’s kind of my fault
Over my time here at SFU, it’s become something of a yearly tradition for me to walk on the frozen AQ pond during winter. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe I like snow, maybe I like to show my dominance over the koi fish in the pond, or maybe I just like walking on water.
I remember that the first time I went to go walk on the pond, I was super careful. I gave the pond a few cold days to freeze over thoroughly and I threw pebbles on the ice to test it. I put one foot first on the ice, took off my bag and heavy clothing, and inched slowly and timidly onto the ice. Success!
Every year thereafter, I reduced my level of precaution for the annual tradition. This year, I gave the ice less time to freeze; I kept hold of my bag (containing some medium-weight textbooks and my laptop) and my heavy-duty jacket. It probably didn’t help that I proceeded to do tuck-jumps on the ice while trying to film myself with my phone. Then I heard a deep but faint cracking sound . . . oops.
– N. T.
Follow the leader does not pay off
In my first semester at SFU, I was still learning to navigate campus effectively. I was walking to the AQ from my residence through the second floor in West Mall when I realized I didn’t know where to go. I saw a group of people exiting the second floor of West Mall and decided to follow them.
I would later learn that these people were SFU’s football players. I ended up walking into the Athletics and Recreation office in the Transportation Centre building. I soon realized I was in the wrong place and ran out embarrassed.
Oops… Wrong classroom
Walking into the wrong room on the first day of class is by no means the most embarrassing thing that could happen to you.
In fact, it’s not even close.
You can, after all, just exit the classroom inconspicuously like any sane human being and find the correct room. However, the word “inconspicuous” doesn’t seem to exist in my vocabulary, because that is exactly what I didn’t do when I found myself in the wrong classroom at the beginning of my second semester.
In my defence, I had tried to make a graceful exit… but when you’re notorious for being clumsy, you know things are bound to go wrong somewhere. Just as suspected, instead of leaving quietly like I had planned to, I managed to drop my notes, trip over the nearby chairs, and nearly spill scalding hot tea on myself before I could even make it to the door. By then, everyone’s attention was already on me and my plan to leave unseen was ruined. Long story short, what started off as a small mistake turned into one of the most embarrassing situations in a matter of seconds, all thanks to my clumsiness.
– V. L.
I hit someone with the microwave door…
I’ve had my share of embarrassing, student-fail moments at SFU. Dropping a water bottle in the new lecture hall where it rolled all the way to the prof’s feet, not closing my coffee lid tight enough and letting it leak as I walked down the hallway . . . the list goes on and on. But no moment quite makes me cringe like the time I hit someone in the face with a microwave door.
It was lunchtime in the Learning Hub at Education Central. I was distracted by my phone as my chicken pot pie heated in the microwave. As soon as I heard the beep, without looking up, I instinctively reached up and opened the microwave door ― smashing it right into the face of some poor guy reaching for a paper towel. With a quick apology, I ran back to my seat, only to realize that he and his group of friends were seated right beside me. To make matters worse, I forgot cutlery that day and had to use my emergency chopsticks to eat my microwavable chicken pot pie.
– J. L.
Apparently, I’m just unlucky…
Last winter, Burnaby campus got cold enough that the AQ pond froze over. Walking across the concrete path, I could see footprints on the snow over the pond ― evidence that others had made the daring trip over the ice.
Enticed and excited, I felt bold enough to step away from the concrete path only to have my entire leg submerged in icy water as my weight broke its frozen surface. I floundered around for a bit between the fractured ice and concrete, one leg hopping in the frigid pond water, before grasping the pathway tiles. Pulling myself back up, I remember crawling across the concrete, eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed.
Thankfully, it was a weekend afternoon, so the AQ was mostly deserted. Aside from a couple of Burnaby Mountain residents walking their dogs, my tomato-red face and icicle-crusted nostrils were somewhat saved from embarrassment. I was also fortunate enough to have been living in residence at the time, so I trotted back to the west end of campus with my one very soggy leg to warm my frozen toes.