As first-year Jess sprinted to the UL at 11 pm on a rainy Wednesday night in February, she was armed with nothing but ApplePay and a dream: go to Fubar, find people she somewhat knew, and hang out with whoever she could find. I cringe at that level of desperation now, but I remember how lonely uni had felt at that point in my life. I hadn’t emerged with that picture-perfect mega friend group yet, and I had the absolute fear that time was running out.
After a night of running from the stage to the bathrooms to the smokers to the bar back up to the stage again, all whilst stuck in the too-sober-to-enjoy-the-music sweaty hell that is Fubar, I decided to go home. I came for a boogie and left with what felt like third-degree burns in my stomach from criminally hot chips and gravy from Tastebudz.
As I nervously shuffled in my Doc Martins and no coat between the bus stop and Papa John’s, I became frighteningly aware that I was alone. Eighteen, cold, sober, and alone at 1 am in town. And as I stared at the floor, silently wishing I’d just chosen the commuting life, I heard four fantastic words in a Northern English accent.
“Are you alright, babe?”
The reassurance of this guy’s pal turning her head and smiling, and the instant realisation that he came along with a big group of girls and wasn’t just a strange dude, put me at ease. We chatted away about our degrees, where we stayed, where we were from, and shuffled our way onto the blessed UL that turned up in all its glory. They walked me to my door.
And the kindness of these two people, who didn’t even know me, to make sure I got home safe just because I was there, is how I met my girlies today. It took a lot longer than I wanted it to, but it happened. And this is your sign and promise that even if you don’t have instant connections at uni, they’re coming.
And so my only grown-up advice to find them is to be kind. Shocker. But I didn’t find my friends; they found me, and I was only lucky enough to find them because they were kind enough to make sure I got home safe.
So smile at people you don’t know! Don’t be daft like me and go to Fubar alone, but be a bit bold! Make sure everyone gets home safe! And bla bla bla I’m sure I sound like someone’s mum right now, but I’m being sincere. You’ve got nothing to lose in kindness, and someone (in this case, me) has everything to gain in receiving kindness.
This article featured in the first-ever printed edition of BRAW Magazine, Close Encounters. You can read more of our Close Encounters articles here.
Featured Image by Jess Urquhart
4th year Politics and Journalism student.
Secretary for Brig
The Herald Student Press Awards Columnist Of The Year 2024 (which sorry i’m still not over)
