August 22, 2006 (revised March 19, 2007)
page 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8
The dorm was named after the school's most famous graduate, Wilbur Douthart, a.k.a. Professor Balderdash, that radio comedian famous for maybe four seconds in the 1940s. ("You pass, Fenton!" was his big catchphrase, if anyone remembers.) In the photo, Douthart holds an oversized pair of scissors about to cut an oversized ribbon attached to two of those velvet-rope poles from movie theaters. To his right stands my father, the first student assigned to live in this dorm. My father wears a merciless crewcut, a baggy blazer, and a tie that looks like regurgitated linguini. He's only 18 but looks older that the middle-aged nobodies surrounding him, including Douthart. Everyone smiles for the camera.
"Your father looked so handsome then," my mother said.
"Cut the crap," my father said.
They left for home. I went back to my room, Room 100, and saw this guy unpacking stuff from a large Army duffel bag. He was obviously the roommate Henning had assigned me. He wore brown-tinted sunglasses, blonde hair past his shoulders, and a black T-shirt that showed a pair of giant red lips with the words THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW beneath them.
"Hey, are you my roommate?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Glad to meetcha." He shook my hand. "I'm Randy McTeague."
"I'm Gerald Blanchard." Right then I'd decided to start calling myself Gerald; Gerry sounded too juvenile. "So�do you like The Rocky Horror Picture Show?"
"Beats me--I've never seen it. I just wear this thing to look cool."
"Good enough reason for me. I've never seen the movie, either. Any movie that you hafta wear pantyhose for to enjoy isn�t worth the effort, in my opinion."
"Not that you wouldn't look luscious in pantyhose."
"Heh heh." Right then I'd decided to try out a fun-loving, wisecracking dude persona similar to his. "So where are you from?"
"Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania--not a bad town if you like unemployed coal-miners."
"Which I do. Quite a lovely group."
"Yes, quite."
"Well, I'm from Center Township, Pee Ay. Sort of near Pittsburgh. We don't have any coal miners in Center, just white-trash suburbanites�.The only reason I'm attending this school is it's 220 miles away from home."
"The only reason I'm attending this school is it gave me a full scholarship."
"Really?"
"Yeah. A full academic scholarship."
"You lucky bastard."
"I'm not lucky, heh heh, just smart. Now I can save my money for the finest in Oriental stroke books."
A kindred spirit.
That evening Randy and I attended a freshman orientation meeting in the TV room on the first floor. Almost everyone on our floor attended. A minute after the scheduled starting time of eight, some guy with thick glasses and short curly brown hair walked into the room and started addressing the crowd. He looked more than a little drunk. "Good evening. Welcome to Do-Fart Hall. I'm your resident assistant, Scott Doyle."
"Hi, Scott," a few wiseguys said in unison.
"Yeah, hi yourself. I'm in room one-ten." He paused. I saw his hair had started to turn gray on the sides. "Okay, so how many of you scholars couldn't get into a legitimate university, raise your hands."
No one raised his hand.
"Okay, how many of you plan to drink and screw for four years, barely graduate, then go work for your fathers?"
No response.
"So you plan to make something of yourselves, huh? Good�.Anyway, I'll be brief. I have a few rules for you that should make your stay here more pleasant. First, don�t bother me for any reason. I'm serious. I'll just bum you out, harsh your trip, get your knickers into a knot."
Someone in the audience laughed.
"Second, alcohol is forbidden on campus, so please make sure you hide your booze well. Better yet, get drunk off campus."
Several people laughed.
"Third, don't bogart any joints. It's not considerate. You may get the munchies someday and want to eat from that person's bag of Cheetos."
"I like Fritos," someone said.
"Bully for you. And last but certainly not least, do not bother me. I mean it. Stay the fuck away from me, and you'll have so much fun you'll poop yourselves. Any questions? Good. Have a nice year." Scott walked out of the room to scattered applause.
Everyone started leaving.
"I've pooped myself already," Randy said.
Just then, a muscular guy in a HENNING LACROSSE sweatshirt walked up to us. "Nice T-shirt," he said to Randy, who was still wearing the Rocky Horror T-shirt. "Are you a queer?"
"Why don't you bend over and find out?" Randy answered.
"Yeah, unless your ass is sore from your date with the lacrosse team last night," I said in fun-loving, wisecracking dude mode.
The guy laughed. I thought he would beat the hell out of us. Instead, he did something far worse.
He befriended us.
He said his name was Peyton Hunt, and that he lived in the room across from us, but not for long. "This Pi guy told me, he said I have a pretty good shot at joining them and moving to their house. He even invited me to a pre-rush party they're having tonight at nine. He said I could bring guests, too. Wanna come?"
"Wait, wait--Pi guy?" I asked.
"Theta Pi," Peyton said. "The most exclusive fraternity on campus. Real classy."
"Classy? How? Do they hold their pinkies out when they drink Pabst Blue Ribbon?"
Peyton and Randy laughed.
"I'd be honored to accept your invitation. Two-thirds of me consists of Pabst Blue Ribbon," Randy said.
"I think I'll pass," I said. "I'm a little tired."
Which I was. I went to bed at midnight and fell asleep at four. I woke up ten minutes later to the sound of someone vomiting. I sat up in bed, turned on the light, and saw Randy on the floor on his hands and knees, leaning over his wicker wastebasket.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," he said.
"You back from the party?"
"Yeah."
"How was it?"
"Fuckin' great."
He looked at the wastebasket.
"Guess I shouldn'ta bought this, this wastebasket," he said. "All the puke's leaking out."
He collapsed dead drunk onto the floor. That would pretty much be our last conversation for the next three months.
TO BE CONTINUED
Toga! Toga! Hot sex...in your mind with the various unattainable campus hotties! Selling out and changing your liberal arts major to business! Dressing in business casual and chuckling over Ann Coulter's latest witticism!...Fiction, Home.
� 2006 David V. Matthews