Life on the Main Line. It’s a beautiful thing. Unfortunately, this column will not be dedicated to glorifying the beautiful suburbs of Philadelphia or our amazing college campus. I am going to do my best to set the record straight: This. Is. Not. The. Real. World. Period.

I know this may be a difficult concept for many of us to grasp, since Villanova is cozily situated in a great, big bubble where Black American Express cards grow on trees and it’s possible to purchase a $50,000 Cartier watch at the nearby mall. But it’s true. So true, in fact, that I’m nearly convinced some of my acquaintances may have had Super Sweet Sixteen-worthy birthday bashes at one time or another in their lives.

Yikes.

Believe it or not, the majority of Americans would be appalled at what we all consider to be normal lives.

A large number of students in this country attend state schools (gasp!) because they cannot afford to pay the rising tuition of private universities. Apparently, after college, most people must work hard to find jobs, as they do not plan on inheriting large sums of money from family members. Some lowly members of society even struggle to pay off loans long after they have their first full-time position and their first home.

Surely I cannot be serious. I am.

To me, Villanova is like no other place in the whole world. Over the past three years, I’ve grown accustomed to coexisting with people whose credit cards are actually accepted at Neiman Marcus, who have an unlimited amount of daddy’s money at their fingertips, and who don’t mind picking up the Domino’s tab after a long night out without worrying about whether or not they can afford to fill up their gas tanks the next day.

Talk about culture shock.

So how is your average Joe at Villanova, pulled from the very depths of upper-middle class lifestyles, supposed to fit in among trust fund babies and Range Rover driving spendaholics? Not to worry. I have become so comfortable with these people – or creatures – whichever you prefer, that I have begun to understand the way they think.

Here are a few of the most important things I have learned from my ridiculously wealthy peers, in perfect rhyme, which should help prevent you from ever feeling like a poor outsider during your journey through our celebrated institution. I call it “Rhyme Time with Rich Kids.”

If you don’t pop your collar, your life isn’t worth a dollar.

Unless you own a Blackberry or Sidekick, you’re probably a silly hick.

Blow a few lines every now and then, and you won’t need to exercise ever again.

Aren’t carrying tons of cash? You must be a real jackass.

And finally…

If you can relate to some or all of these, its time to reassess your priorities.

When the real world calls upon us in a few years, or a mere matter of months in some cases, it will be time for us to accept the challenges that so many millions of people do each day, such as taking care of ourselves, paying for things with our own money, and especially (don’t have a panic attack now) growing up. Good luck with that, and sorry to burst your bubble.