With finals coming up fast, and because this is my last column of the semester, I thought it would be fun to tell you a little story.

It was the Thursday of finals week. My No. 2 pencils were sharpened, and I was ready for my “Intro to Theatre” final. So I strolled confidently into the exam room, expecting to see a couple hundred other students looking over notes or chewing on their erasers. At the very least I expected the lights to be on.

But when I entered the classroom, I was quick to notice that nobody else was there. No students, no professors. Still brimming with confidence, my first thought was “Wow, Pete, you’re the only guy that remembered the test was today.” But I regrouped and checked the final exam schedule.

I think this is when my heart sunk into my gut and my gut fell out my ass. I pinched myself, kicked myself, and hit myself on the head with a crowbar to wake myself up from this nightmare. But this was definitely no dream. Sure enough, the test was at 9:45 in Physics Hall. Unfortunately, I missed one minor detail: the test was on Tuesday, so I had missed my final exam by a mere two days.

The whole situation left me a little bit delirious. All the crap I learned about ballet and the five minutes I spent studying the night before were a waste.

When the reality of what had just happened finally sunk in, I went over my options. Option number one was suicide, but I knew that most suicide attempts are unsuccessful, and if I failed a final AND failed a suicide attempt in the same day, I just didn’t know if I could live with myself.

My second option was a mass killing spree. I nixed that idea because most people had already gone home for the year, and I just didn’t think a mass murder in Ames would get the national press it deserved. Besides, how many people could I really kill with stolen food service utensils?

So I had to go with my third option, and that was to face the music. I called up my professor to plead my pathetic case. Believe me, I would have done anything to avoid taking this class again. Wash his lawn, mow his dog … anything!

When I talked to my professor, he said there was nothing I could do. I failed the class. Naturally, this made my day. But then this man went well above and beyond the call of duty and, thinking he’s a regular Bill Cosby or something, started telling jokes.

“Mr. Borchers, if your mother kills you, I’ll send flowers to the funeral.” Well, Ha Ha. He probably waited 50 years to tell that zinger.

But I just didn’t see the humor in it for a couple reasons.

First, nobody should be allowed to joke about my death except for me.

And second, the odds of me getting killed that day were much better than average.

But I have learned to live with my F. I do wonder what future employers are going to think about it, though. “Mr. Borchers, these are some fine grades. But how did you get an F in theatre? Are you dumb?”

“Oh no, see, I accidentally missed my final and …”

“So, you’re dumb AND stupid. Next!”

But I figure there had to be a purpose for me missing my final. With this in mind, I give to you some tips to help prevent you from accidentally skipping your exams.

The most important thing to do, and I cannot stress this enough, is to read the final exam schedule. This should eliminate all the guesswork.

The schedule should be easy to find in the Daily and online.

Once you have the schedule, make sure it is posted prominently in conspicuous locations. Wallpaper your room with it. Put it on you notebooks. Tattoo it to your forehead. Better yet, tattoo it to your roommate’s forehead.

I also recommend paying attention to your professor. You never know when they might throw a curveball at you and have one of those nighttime exams. Also, pay attention to hints from your classmates. If one of them offers you a ride to his theatre exam on Tuesday, since you are both in the same class, the chances are good that your exam is on Tuesday as well.

So the lesson in today’s column is to be sure and go to your final exams. Or, if you are going to skip your final, don’t waste your time studying for it. But perhaps the biggest lesson here is that I’m a dumbass. Good luck on finals everybody.

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Peter Borchers is a sophomore in advertising from Bloomington, Minn.