Waking up Wednesday was like waking up from a fantastic, incredible dream and realizing you didn’t actually win a million dollars and have a torrid affair with David Beckham. Instead, you’re still living in your off-campus, heat-deprived apartment, sleeping in a Beckham-less bed.

And there’s nothing but salad dressing and Keystone Light in your fridge.

When I heard Google’s April 1 announcement, I set about rearranging my life now that I had the opportunity to make my dreams come true.

“This is it! It’s happening!” I screamed at my housemate as I frantically packed my bag with everything I would need for my journey — a file-a-fax full of Pokémon cards and my smartphone with the upgraded version of Google Maps.

I ran up to my boss and quit on the spot. I ran to Hall of Languages and dropped out of all of my classes for the remainder of the year. I yelled “Suck it, everyone!” as I left the building, which I immediately felt was too much and instantly regretted.

But no matter — I was finally going to fulfill my dream of becoming a Pokémon master.

I wrote my parents a letter (despite my Google Maps savvy, I am inexplicably unable to use my phone’s email or text message function) and told them I didn’t know where I’d be for the next few months. Take care of Grandma for me, I said. This had to happen now.

But as I turned on my laptop, ready to write my farewell Facebook status to the world as I embarked on my great pilgrimage, my magnum opus of epic journeys to catch ‘em all, I saw a status that troubled me.

“Did you see the Google Maps April Fools’ prank? Genius.”

I felt my insides burn with a rage I shan’t be able to describe in its total magnitude. A prank? How could this be? Was it too late to re-register into all of my classes and get my job back? Didn’t Google know they were playing with people’s hopes and dreams with this so-called prank, dangling this opportunity of a lifetime in front of us, taunting us?

Something else began troubling me at this point. If this faux-excursion had all just been a ruse, what else was out there? Could no one be trusted on this day of days? They said beware of the ides of March, but no one had fully prepared me for the horror of the first of April.

Defeated, I logged into my LinkedIn account with a heavy heart. Even before I started to do more background research, I somehow already knew what I was about to find.

Sure enough, I found that the profiles of all of my newfound connections, all of whom were cats, were falsified. In fact, the entire new program, known as LinkedIn CYMK, or Cats You May Know, was nothing but a sick joke from someone who deliberately wanted to toy with my emotions.

As it turned out, I hadn’t met any of these cats, and it seemed unlikely they were ever going to help me make any professional connections in the feline industry. The Pokémon hunting game was out, and my foolproof plan B just swirled down the drain before my very eyes.

So, as I reevaluate my entire life over the next few days, carefully analyzing every bit of information I took for truth two days ago, I will just warn people of one thing: If you are pulling April Fools’ Day jokes, try not to make them so outrageously hilarious and awesome as those of Google and LinkedIn. My heart is still broken.

Chelsea DeBaise is a senior writing major. Her friend pointed out to her that there would be no water Pokémon hiding in her hometown of Rochester because nothing can survive in the Genesee River. She can be reached via email at [email protected] or on Twitter @CDeBaise124.

Published on April 3, 2014 at 1:00 am