College kids love acting like finals week is the worst thing that's ever happened to them. They hole up in the library and fashion themselves yurts made of hoodies, Gatorade bottles, and Funyans bags and loudly pray for death. I used to do this. My friends did this. And really, in retrospect, it wasn't that bad. The I HATE FINALS dance was more performative group kvetching than an expression of actual pain.
Two University of Georgia students took the study keening too far this semester, posting on their local Craigslist an ad seeking to hire a hit man to run them over with their car. "HIT MAN WANTED," the ad read. "I am looking for someone to run my friend and I over with their car. We do not want to die, we just want to be injured enough to get out of taking our finals here at UGA. Please do not kill."
The ad was quickly flagged for removal by Craigslist. But, you know, screen shots.
I'd be lying if I said that there weren't points during the more paper-heavy weeks of my college career that I didn't, in the back of my mind, pray for an irresponsible driver to rattle me hard enough to send me to a hospital, thus getting a temporary reprieve from the demands of college life. But if I had to do it over again, I'd pray for injury as a means to extend my college experience, not avoid taking tests; almost every Adult Week is worse than the best College Week.