Junior Emily Wyffels of the women’s soccer team kept a diary during the squad’s trip to Hawaii. Here is the third and final installment of her memoirs.
Saturday, Sept. 20
7:00 — 9:00 p.m.
GAME TIME! We play before the largest crowd we’ve ever played for (300-plus) in an immaculate, carpet-like grass stadium. Our opponents: none other than the University of Hawaii Rainbow Wahine. These girls are monstrous and manly. Hawaii is the franchise of the leading scorer in the nation at that point of the season — number five Natasha something-something. We simply referred to her as No. 5. She is the ghastliest looking beast of a girl I have ever seen and is notorious for punching girls in the face — even girls on her own team.
The game starts out at break-neck pace, and we’re playing like I’ve never seen any team play before. No. 5 tried her best to score (and to start a fight) yet was successful in neither effort. We shut out the Rainbow Wahine in convincing 2-0 fashion.
Although our fan base is greatly outnumbered, it really isn’t that apparent considering the number of kids pouring out of the stands requesting our autographs and all of the congratulations we are receiving. We’d been placed in an absolute paradise full of distraction and were expected to concentrate for a short two hours on the game of soccer. And we did just that.
On our way out to meet the “silver bullet” in the parking lot, we had another run-in with No. 5. We secretly wanted to remind her to stay off drugs (especially amphetamines) and that violence is not always the answer. But then we were afraid she’d run us over with her pick-up truck. So instead, we got into the van and listened to Britney Spears all the way back to the hotel.
The entirety of this story cannot be explained due to lack of appropriateness. But let’s just say the integral parts of the story have to do with the beach, a 20-something army girl just stung by a jellyfish, public urination, and urinating in one’s own pants. The end.
Sunday, Sept. 21
A handful of us awaken to catch the Hawaiian sunrise. While standing out on the pier, we realize that we were on the wrong side of the island to witness a flawless sunrise and instead wait for the sun to stop hiding behind Diamondhead. We get tired of waiting and went back to bed for a few more hours. We would be leaving paradise that evening at 7:00 p.m. so we had to fit a lot of beach time in the last remaining hours.
Greenberg: “Let’s go surf boarding.”
Me: “Surf boarding? Yeah! Then maybe later we can play soccer ball!”
Emma, Sarah, and I try our hand at surfing, while California surfing veterans and freshmen Jess Schindler and Katrina Matlin see if they can “hang ten” or whatever it is the kids call it these days. Fifty percent of our Canadian freshmen, Mira Maclennan, is feeling brave and joins the California surfing pros. That a way to give it the old Canadian try (whatever that’s supposed to mean). Leigh Ann decides she’ll just stick to her floatie raft. Emma and I are decked out in our board shorts and puka shells, while Sarah opts for as little clothing as possible. Obviously. There were hardly any waves but we insist upon teaching ourselves how to get up on the board. We all made it up a few times momentarily before plunging back into the Pacific Ocean. We decided that with more practice and better waves we would have been really good — good enough to quit Cornell and make a profession of it. (For media clarification, at no instance did we compare ourselves with, or even mention the movie Blue Crush.)
The majority of the time that day was spent paddling around on our surfboards.
As we paddle into shore to avoid getting hit by a catamaran, I’m having an inner monologue conversation with myself: “What day is today? Oh yeah … Sunday. Why am I not at college right now? Oh yeah … I’m in Hawaii. What would I normally be doing right now? Answer: Hating Sunday and hating myself because I have so much work to do. Oh, I’d better get out of the way so I don’t get hit by that boat