It was Brandy, Stacy’s girlfriend who suggested the answer to my roommate problem. She and Stacy called me and said that a guy she knew was coming to Euphegenia and didn’t know anyone. He was really funny, unique and little different, and he was from Indiana. She thought he and I would get along very well. So I said why not? She’d already called him and he was game. Since she and Stacy were already at school they spoke to housing and the whole thing was sorted. When I got there that late summer day, I had to not only find my new room, but also meet my new roommate Judd.
I checked in at the lobby and said hi to some familiar faces. I was directed to the third floor once again, just as I had been a year earlier. I was happy to be going back to familiar space. When Milton had come and we all moved down to a large room on the first floor, which was basically the basement we had lots of space. The problem was that on that level, there was one large communal bathroom/shower area. I did not dig that arrangement. And we were at the opposite end of the hall. If you woke in the middle of the night to pee, you had to decide how bad you really needed to go. It was a cold uncomfortable walk to find relief. And call me a prude if you must, I wasn’t really prepared to be greeted first thing in the morning by a half dozen other guys, many nude and swinging when all I wanted to brush my teeth. Most of the jocks lived on the first floor. Communal showers were just another day for them. That bathroom smelled like a locker room, as did the hallway. Nobody had their own bathroom in the dorm but I was far more comfortable sharing a shitter with three than thirty.
I got to my new room, which was across the hall from my very first room. Someone had indeed moved in already, but was currently not there. The first thing I noticed was a velvet Elvis painting on the wall near the bathroom. Brandy might have been right. I might very well like this guy. My dad helped me bring up my last box and was just about to leave (there’d be no long goodbye this time) when someone opened the door. He had brown hair to his shoulders, a They Might Be Giants t-shirt, and wide, suspicious eyes.
“Judd?” I asked.
“That’s me,” he answered in that slow, slightly confused southern accent specific to Indiana. It’s not a heavy drawl, but still hints of antebellum. Being originally from Indiana I feel great affection to the state, but feel I can also say it’s a weird place. The northwest part of the state is basically a suburb of Chicago, and the northeast an extension of Michigan. Indianapolis is a nice clean mini-metropolis but with just a dash of southern hospitality not as common in other cities. But slip an hour south of the city and you’ll think you crossed the Mason-Dixon.
We awkwardly introduced ourselves. George and I worked our way around each other for a few minutes as we unpacked. It was funny how he went about trying to set up his things nice and orderly, as you do when you’re a freshman striking out on your own for the first time. I more or less dumped my shit into my closet or my side of the large dresser. We weren’t really sure what to do next. Thankfully that’s just about the point where his parents arrived. Though at first glance, I wondered if he’d been raised by his grandparents. these people were clearly in their sixties. Judd’s folks never had kids until later in life. They were really sweet people and doted on him and his brother. His mother declared our room was too drab and they were taking us to the mall the spice it up. I knew Judd and I would get along when his first instinct for room décor was a stop at Spencer Gifts.
I had mentioned it would be kind of cool to take the boring white bulb out of the central light in our ceiling and replace it with some color. He not only went along with the idea, he was the one that found us a blue light bulb. That and a string of light-up Universal Monster heads to be strung across our window. That night our room was flooded with cool blue light and glowing Frankenstein, Dracula, and Wolfman heads. There were those who expressed concern about it not being conducive to a study environment, but we quickly argued we both had desk lamps. I was finally starting to relax about the living situation. We spent some time discussing our individual backgrounds and what we were doing there. We were both from Indiana originally, though nowhere near each other. I’d passed through his hometown of Lebanon a million times on my way to visit my family in Bloomington. Turned out he’d worked at the Dairy Queen we would even stop at now and then. He may have dipped my cone a few times (hello!)
Judd was a Youth Ministry major, which initially gave me the creeps about living with him. Then I would remember I was going to be a youth pastor now too so this was probably a good thing. I told him I was a Theatre major but had decided over the summer that I’d be seminary-bound after graduation. He was really supportive, saying how being an actor and having a theater background would be awesome for a youth pastor. Then he told me how much he loved the 80’s and broke out his Debbie Gibson tapes. He also collected PEZ dispensers and loved the blow soap bubbles. This new roommate thing was going to work after all. Then we met our suite mates.
The boys we’d be sharing a bathroom with had also been thrown together by pure chance. They had very little in common on the surface. As it turned out, they had even less in common underneath. The first to come over was Tad. He was a short, blonde kid with a constant shit-eating grin. He had the personality to match. Always talking, always upbeat, with more than a hint of arrogance and superiority. His father was a successful chiropractor in a nearby town. Tad was also a Youth Ministry major and a piano virtuoso whose dream was to be a Christian recording artist. Tad was extremely outgoing and personable, though if often came across as disingenuous. He also had mischievous sense of humor. I liked him, and would find myself constantly making an effort to be funny around him. It was almost like I was threatened since I was the actor in the suite but this guy was the one making people laugh. But liking him and seeking his approval aside, there was also something slightly mistrustful about him. There was just a spark of trouble in the corner of his eye.
Then there was Doug. Tad’s roommate probably had a legitimate case to sue the producers of Napoleon Dynamite. Gob bless him, the kid had issues. Side note: usually when someone says “god bless him/her” what they’re really saying is “that kid is fucked.” Clearly there was something not quite right between his ears, yet to his credit he was making the effort to not let it stop him. Doug was tall and lean, with tight curly hair. He had large, thick glasses that, based on the way his eyes seemed to struggle through them appeared to impair his vision more than assist. Whereas Tad was smooth and good at working a room, Doug desperately wanted friends and acceptance but struggled with social skills. He spoke in non-sequiters in a voice similar to Sylvester the cat, though a couple octives deeper, and had a tendency to spit when he spoke. He’d get very excited about things the rest of us didn’t share his enthusiasm for, nor did we quite understand. Doug liked comic books (specifically The Tick, which I could get behind), considered “Weird Al” Yankovic a misunderstood genius, and faithfully studied Tae Kwon Do. He would discuss any of the three at a moment’s notice, whether you brought it up or not.
We tended to keep our bathroom door shut or at least cracked, but Doug became famous for Kramer-like entrances. Judd and I would be sitting around chatting or studying when without announcement, the door would blast open and Doug would launch himself into our room like a Tasmanian Devil. It was funny, at first. Then he would just sit there. Literally just sit in one of our chairs, not speaking. He would stare at us with a smile on his face. Even if we weren’t doing anything. One afternoon I was lying on my bunk reading and Doug sat there for the better part of an hour watching me. He was sweet so we didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I would have said he was harmless, but we weren’t entirely sure about that. He bragged from day one how he could split a board.
One day Tad, meaning to be something of a smartass came back from a trip home with a two-by-four. He pulled Doug into our room, as well as ushering in a number of spectators from the hallway like a carnival barker. He demanded his roomy put on a martial arts display by splitting the board. Tad stood in our room holding the plank and Doug, with zero preparation or hesitation spun around a split the thing in two even pieces. Not with his hand, mind you, but with his bare foot. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t slightly afraid of ever pissing him off after that.
And so began my second year. New roommate, new room, and hopefully a new start. I was resolved to do better that year than the year before. Of course, resolutions tend to only last so long, whether made after New Years or not.
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