The Kids

As we reach the single digit countdowns for when I move back to Richmond, it has got me reminiscing about how I met some of these crazy kids I’ve made over the past year. Now all of these kids, Eddie, Nick, BLT, and Steve, I initially met due to the fact they hung out with other people from my floor. Coincidentally the place they chose was right outside of my door. Now, the fact that my room isn’t exactly soundproof, or that fact that we never closed our door while we were there, I heard a lot of their conversations, and thus got to know them through osmosis if you will. The night where I really met the bulk of them is when I decided to just, “fuck-it”, and hang out with them at the local hookah bar. That and the occasions where I came back buzzed and decided I was too lazy to make the extra effort to open my door, so I stayed outside.



Eddie was one of the first people I’ve met on my floor, sparing my roommate. Eddie was my next door neighbor for the 1st semester. He seemed interesting, in the interesting artist way. He had a Powerbook also which made him pretty good in my book. He also was one of the first people to write on my door. “Flaming hot asses of 906,” if I remember correctly. My first memory of Eddie however was when I came back from one of the earlier parties in the year, and I, slightly inebriated (who am I kidding, I was pretty smashed), hung out with the kids that hung out outside of my door. After a while I talked with Eddie, him quietly typing at his computer, me trashed and ultimately crashing onto his bed. Now I call this the major point, because before this we would have some simple dialogue or shout things to each other while watching adult swim. Crashing onto his bed I noticed, I was out of line I barely know him, and now I noticed he used the same sheets throughout the whole year. The highlight of this memory is the statement Eddie made concerning those who go, “Yeah it's the weekend lets get fucked up drunk!” He called those people stupid and the mere fact of going out with the goal to get drunk absurd. Oh how we change.




BLT, or Brian Tyree, is an interesting subject. Not exactly the type of person who you would think of me hanging out with, but now it would be odd drinking without the BLT around. Now, almost everyone knows the story of the night of the Halloween party and the bottle of Aristocrat. If not, I shall inform. I come back from the Halloween party held at Grove and I am losing my buzz. Walking down the hall way I meet up with BLT, we chit chat, tells me that they’re watching evil dead in the television room asks me if I wanted to join. I say sure, but first he invites me into his room (no, that didn't happen, get your mind out of the gutter). In his room he pulls out a bottle of Aristocrat; now to those who haven’t experienced warm Aristocrat, it is basically drinking nail polish remover. We pass the bottle back and forth each taking an increasingly larger swig than last time. From then on we went to the television room, growing increasingly antsy we decide to take a couple more swigs from the bottle and head out to 7-11, this is where our tradition of hanging out outside of the commons despite the heavy traffic of cops came to be. However, the earliest encounter I can think of with BLT is a particularly hot day in the city. We were in the bathroom, I was washing my face because of the heat and the obvious glisten of sweat and we were discussing how hot it is outside. He stated that its one of those days where you’ve got to take like 3 showers and change your shirt many times. In response, I left for class.




Nick I met through Pat. This was during the first week of school when we just thought Pat was kind of annoying. However, he removed all doubt after the second week. For the longest time Nick was the guy who was on the top bunk. He would be there, on his laptop, inexplicably in a wife beater and a hat, chatting online or surfing the interweb. I can’t really pinpoint when Nick and I started hanging out. One good memory though is me and him yelling out his window. Things were being thrown out (small things don't worry) and I decided to post pornographic pictures onto the side of the building (which reminds me; remind me when I’m walking out the back of Shafer to check if it is still there). This also was when we perfected the Hagrid impersonation of, “Rawr, Rawr, Rawr.”





Steve I met practically naked, well he was. This is when I was formally introduced to Steve. However, judging the record (my iPhoto library) I did meet him at the first party held at Joan’s, the night of a thousand PBR’s it may be called. Back to the nakedness. This memory is vivid, due to the sheer absurdity of it. Myself and BLT, or Eddie, or Nick, or maybe all of us, were walking back to Nick’s room to play a healthy round of Soul Calibur. I’m in the doorway leaning and talking when I hear a shriek followed by a high pitched laughter. Someone protests in the distance, “Don’t!” I peer out the door and here comes Steve, bounding down the hallway in his purple boxer briefs trying to cover up his dignity. Jane soon follows. Nick, obviously bewildered by the sight comes out and asks, “What the hell is going on?!” Jane responds, “He’s had a couple of drinks.” Oh, that explains it. Ah college, desensitizing youth to intoxicated behavior since 969AD (and apparently putting kids to sleep with lectures since 975 AD, Thanks Ask Yahoo!). Soon Steve is wrapped in a bed sheet being escorted by Jane back to his room.