Take a deep breath, and prepare to hiss. 

During Fish Camp before the beginning of my freshman year at Texas A&M, I saw all of the people, heard all of the screaming and singing in the mosh pit and decided that I would stand at the edge of the room and bob my head with convincing enthusiasm. I went to one Midnight Yell my freshman year, saw all of the people, heard the canons and never went back. 

I am a senior who gave a couple of Aggie football games a chance and saw all of the people and heard all the yelling and decided to sell the remainder of her tickets. I have given Northgate a couple of shots — haha — but I saw all of the people, heard all of the loud music and decided that I would brand myself as the heroic Uber driver. Sensing a pattern yet?

Reading all of this, you are either wondering, “Why does she go here if she is just going to 2% everything?” or you have already burned the page. The truth is, I go to A&M because I love it here; I am just also one of the biggest introverts to ever exist. 

The beautiful thing about A&M is that you don’t have to be loud to attend. Sure, most of the traditions advertised require a certain appreciation for large crowds and yelling, but you don’t have to be in the center of everything to be considered an Aggie. Evans Library is just as much a part of this university as Kyle Field is.

On the other hand, my mom is a very different type of Aggie. She still raves about the friendships made at Fish Camp, and she is always the loudest voice during every yell. When we walked through the doors of the Association of Former Students this past Saturday, we had two very different missions. Hers, to soak in every social interaction, take as many pictures as possible and closely examine every vendor in Aggie Park. Mine, to get my ring, get out and get a burger. 

As soon as I saw the gargantuan crowds of people, I went full flight mode, focused on getting out of there before I completely shut down. I have to admit, I barely even heard what the sweet old man said to me before he gave me the ring I so desperately wanted. 

However, when my mom put that ring on my finger, everything changed. I remembered why I love it here. Two Aggies, so vastly different, stared and beamed at one piece of glimmering gold, symbolizing the shared mission of tradition and the Core Values. 

When we embraced with our matching gold, I no longer wanted to get out as quickly as possible. I wanted to soak up every last moment, not just at Ring Day, but on A&M’s hallowed grounds. Every last Evans study session, late-night Northgate pickup, interaction with a slightly rabid squirrel and viewing of an Aggie game from the comfort of my home suddenly became fleeting and sacred. 

Even though I have not directly participated in many of the traditions here, I have been a witness to what they can accomplish. Watching the sweaty mosh pit during Fish Camp, I saw unbreakable bonds begin to form. Looking around me at all of the Midnight Yell attendees, I saw a community made up of people from all around the world joined together to hype up one team. During my limited experiences with Aggie football, I witnessed complete strangers suddenly become part of a united mission established in 1876.

This unity is exactly why my Aggie Ring means so much to me. A&M is one of the only places where people can be polar opposites, yet be united by the Aggie identity. From now on, wherever I end up, I will bear the mark of an Aggie. 

Who knows, I may be walking down the crowded streets of London and catch a glimmer of gold, sparking a conversation or even a new friendship based on a united experience. Loud or not, I am still an Aggie, and even more now with my ring, I am proud.