On Fire

In his or her illustrious career, your productive On Fire correspondent wrote roughly 100 columns for these hallowed pages (this count is unofficial and unverified by the Elias Sports Bureau), tirelessly performing the sacred duty of bringing the spirit of On Fire to Emory. For those of you who are unaware, On Fire is an omnipotent entity that takes the corporeal form of a giant burning basketball. However, that era recently came to an end. Last May, your correspondent hung up his (or her) spikes and stepped down from the most meaningful and lowest paying job that he or she had ever held.

Knowing that he (or she) had only been granted a limited time as On Fire’s voice on earth, upon retiring your correspondent vowed to never open up his (or her) Macbook Air again and attempt to write a column to channel the spirit of that great burning basketball in the sky. However, while sipping an appletini in the Gulf of Mexico he (or she) learned that another Emory luminary was retiring, and your correspondent decided that he (or she) had one final service to perform.

One of the greatest columns to ever grace these pages was your intrepid correspondent’s description of a day in the life of University President James W. Wagner, or JWags (http://emorywheel.com/on-fire-9-23-14/). As this column makes clear, your correspondent was the only person at Emory to truly understand the elusive character of our president, and as such, he (or she) feels a duty to give our departing president some advice and warning about the retired life:

You are going to find yourself waking up early. I mean really early. All your life, you had incredibly important stuff to do, and yet it was an almost unbearable struggle to have to drag yourself out of bed every day in time for your 10 o’clock tee off. But now that you no longer have important “business meetings” on the golf course every day, you will find yourself waking up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at five o’clock every morning.

That being said, you will no longer sleep through the night either. There once was a time during which you were so exhausted every day, from kicking ass, taking names and running the shit out of this University that your eyes closed instantly as soon as your head hit your insanely plush pillow. But now you will lay there awake at night, wondering what the meaning of all your hard work was. And you will get up approximately every 30 minutes to pee. Trust your correspondent — getting old sucks.

Speaking of getting old, your hair will begin to fall out. President Wagner has long been instantly recognizable around campus, partially because of his winning smile and sharply pressed suits, but mostly because he was known as a guy with a damn fine head of hair. Your correspondent hopes you enjoyed that while it lasted, Mr. President, because as soon as you no longer have the day-to-day stress of running the University to naturally stimulate your hair follicles, those luscious locks are going to fall out, never to be seen again.

Just last year, people often stopped your correspondent on the street to ask him if he was a shampoo model. In fact, your correspondent’s hair was widely considered the second best ‘do in the country, behind the one and only Donald Trump. But five short months later, five months of long brunches and afternoon naps, your correspondent is combing over his (or her) hair every morning in a desperate attempt to hold on to that lost glory. It is literally hell.

President Wagner, you will also discover that Netflix no longer holds a sweet joy for you now that you possess unlimited time to watch it. Everyone knows that you used to spend hours and hours in your office binge-watching "Orange is the New Black" (Laura Prepon sure has matured as an actress since “That 70’s Show,” hasn’t she?), while Gary Hauk and Nancy Seideman did all the actual work of running the University. But those moments were only sweet because you were procrastinating. You're going to find that you couldn't care less about Walter White’s adventures, that Don Draper has lost his charm and that even Frank Underwood’s shenanigans are no longer disturbing yet oddly charming. All this being said, "30 Rock" always has been and will continue to be unconditionally hilarious.

Well, Mr. President, that’s about it. You will wake up early, pee during the night, go bald and get bored watching TV. Retirement is hell — trust your correspondent, he (or she) is going through it right now. He (or she) would love to tell you even more about it, but that pretty girl (or boy) in the American flag bikini over at the beach bar in Cabo is smiling at him (or her).