Some Bit Players From My Time in Pennsylvania

Bryan Starebucks: I was taken aback by his intense "Hello, Clarice" eye contact when he spoke to me. By the time he insisted I stop by his Starbucks and say hi, I suspected I was getting hit on. A few minutes later a forty-year-old woman he apparently knew began straddling him in that way a stripper does to the nicely dressed innocent-looking guy 10 minutes before she gives her "I'm new here and just trying to save money for college" speech. Still, I think I rejected him. And no, I'm not the nicely dressed innocent-looking guy.

Door Girl: Earlier this semester, I was walking out of Bio through a group of people waiting to enter their classroom, when my eyes caught a girl who almost caused me to shout "Holy shit!" in reflex. The next week she stood outside her classroom door 20 minutes early, and I did not hear anything my professor said the last 20 minutes of class. I'd tell her how hot she is, but I think (1) somehow she already knows this and (2) it would come out in a similar fashion to Jim Carrey's "I wanna squeeze em!" line in Liar Liar.

Frank: Apparently he's been around the world because he begins every thought with a "You know (deep breath), this reminds me of that time with my old soccer buddies in Madagascar" scenario. This always leads to an insanely philosophical question which he answers himself, only his answer is always "I don't know." I can mimic his low soothing timbre perfectly, but this is probably because I heard his voice years ago when it belonged to my old history teacher Mr. Ives. God bless Mr. Ives, even though it's been 5.5 years since his "write this and that for your future self and I'll mail it back to you in 5 years" assignment. Come on, Mr. Ives! I know you retired, but you have the only sheet of paper that'll answer questions like, "If Ali McDaniel had to sum you up in one sentence, what would she say?"

Harrisburg Andrea: Her name's not Andrea, but she looks like this amazingly hot girl my friend dated back at UF. Take the original Andrea, stretch her about 5 inches, mix some Catholicism into the sorority look, and attach a boyfriend of 10 years, and you get the Harrisburg version. I'd let either version hold my hand. On a side note, dating the same guy 10 years, since you were 15, and not even an engagement ring? Hell, not even one of those bullshit promise rings? Wait, is there an age limit on wearing a promise ring? I'd guess if you can legally drink a beer, you've outgrown the promise ring thing. Either way, for the love of God, get a ring on that finger so at least I can confirm I have no shot.

Marc: We were walking through the halls of a local high school and saw that one of the classrooms belonged to a man named Mr. Riddles. For the next hour we debated who this Mr. Riddles could be and basically decided he was actually the ghost of a bitter old white man who mysteriously disappeared after a fight with one of his students and was now wandering the halls terrorizing the school with a maniacal laughter. We raised an eyebrow after finding out that Mr. Riddles was on sabbatical for the semester due to an "undisclosed illness," but then our theory went out the window when we realized we had both confused Mr. Riddles with Dr. Giggles.

Rebekah The Pearl Girl: I still can't figure out if her look is Sexy School Teacher or Wealthy Dowager. Seriously, what girl in her mid-twenties is always rocking the white pearls around her neck? My buddy eventually discovered that if you make eye contact and smile at her, she'll give you the traumatized gaze of a recently booted American Idol contestant for the remainder of your time in the same room. I now play this game every time I see her.

The Guy Who Picks Out the Music at Guido McNeal's: I don't know who you are, but I want to give you an awkward high-five. Coldplay, Death Cab for Cutie, The Shins?!? Thank you so much on behalf of myself and any Rivers Cuomo lookalike who happens to stumble upon your establishment. Can I request some Mars Volta next month?

Damn the Lockout

I just watched the 1998 NBA All-Star game on ESPN Classic. Early on Isiah Thomas commented how Shawn Kemp had managed to stay the same size since Isiah had met him as a teenager. Of course, a few months later Kemp gained about 85 pounds (and about 4 kids). This maybe the biggest (no pun intended) case of ironic broadcasting I've ever heard (runner-up being during Tyson-Holyfield 2, when 30 seconds before the bite Steve Albert says "Mills Lane just gave Tyson an ear full").

Exhilarating Calm

Earlier in the week as we were driving to class, the car was filled with worrying and predicted catastrophe from my friends, an impending doom as we were about to take our first exam of the semester. Their voices were tense, their outlook bleak, and their nerves quite obvious. In fifteen minutes we would be given a test expected to be quite difficult, one in which all the students would come into the classroom with the sagging eyes that come from replacing hours tucked under sheets with hours of repetitive reading of the same dull textbook chapters. One set of eyes looked fearful enough to break down into tears.

But me, I kept my cool. I didn't notice how oddly casual my demeanor was until I was surrounded by my intense peers. I noted how peculiar this scene was, for me to stand as the calming voice among shouts of fear, particularly since I've long considered one of my biggest flaws to be a tendency to unnecessarily worry. After looking back at some moments in my life, I've been forced to tweak that perception of myself. That's because for someone who kills himself overthinking about the little things, I'm amazingly calm under intense pressure.

I'd much more likely get tense driving on an unfamiliar highway than go Donovan McNabb during the Super Bowl. I'm that guy who would pace to the mailbox everyday checking for response from grad schools, would fidget in the plane on the way to the interview, than became Bond when he sat in the chair and answered all questions from the dissecting interviewers. Giving a big speech has always been my forte, as I'm always more concerned that I'll somehow hit a misstep and not get to the auditorium on time. When alone to ponder, I get nervous. When hit with the spotlight, it's all business.

One night I was on the highway on the way to meet up with some friends. We had planned for a great night of acting white and going line-dancing. I had made the drive a few times before, but this time I kept overcontemplating what would happen that night. Of course, the reason for this was that this was not just a night to hang out with my buds and learn choreographed country animatics. I had an alterior motive that night. I knew she would be at my friend's house when I got there, and I wanted her to come along. I wanted to find out more about what made her tick, if I could find a flaw the second time around, if this mere curiosity could have some underlying potential. In my car alone down an empty highway for thirty minutes, I was left alone to consider what I would say when I saw her, what I wouldn't say, how I would behave, how I would get her to come with us, how I would get her to come with me, how I would react if she chose not to come. For a solid five minutes I was a nervous wreck.

Then I reached the house. By the time I knocked on the door, all the nerves had dissipated. A few moments later when I walked up the stairs and saw her cute face and the smile she gave me, I felt that same oddly casual calm I had on my way to the big test. All the stuff I had contemplated on the drive up was disgarded. I just did what I felt I had to do.

We had a great time that night. When it mattered, when I had her there with me, I was absolutely calm. And it was exhilarating.