It's My Y Chromosome, Isn't It?

The orientation whirlwind is over. I'm officially a Scottie. I took the honor pledge and everything.

I met my colleagues. In all, there are roughly 20 of us. Mostly women, of course. Going into this thing, I thought I was going to be the man. This isn't a statement of bravado but of statistics. I mean, come on, how many guys would be in this program at a private women's college? The answer for 2006 is: two. God, now people are going to get us confused. I'm not really sure how I feel about another set of figs in the program. Seems like the deal is a little less sweet. For example, today two jam ups in the men's restroom. I had to wait for a moment for the urinal ... in a men's restroom ... at a private women's college. Long year ahead, I can feel it.

In addition to being on of two men, I'm the oldest person in the group. The next oldest finished her undergrad in 1997. The two youngest just graduated college. Pretty interesting bunch, too. A few are Peace Corps volunteers who just returned from Africa. A few are teachers. A few, like me, are quitting the corporate world.

Introductions

I think I earned favor during introductions. We went around the table and everyone introduced themselves to the room. In the moments just before I spoke, I got this horrible fear that I would pronounce my last name "Medcock" and end up in some awkward Woody Allen style apologetic conversation that only made things worse. Thankfully, I didn't. I also opted out of telling the story about being at a Pro-Choice rally and stopping a known wife-beater from ripping up posters that said something about "Womyn's Rights." I did, however, drop a quote from Lily Tomlin. It just popped into my head while I was speaking:

The problem with the rat race is that if you win, you're still a rat.

Pretty nice start, I thought. Famous. Woman. Lesbian. The trifecta! I thought I killed. Everyone was laughing. Keep it going, I thought, keep it going. So, I ripped off my Velcro stipper pants, jumped onto the conference table, and showed off my Scottie thong while singing the alma mater. The laughter died, my friends, the laughter died. But not until I had earned 23 cents, two buttons, and a used MARTA card. Let's see my nemesis top that! (If you're wondering, he didn't have the guts. He just sat there.)