As advised by my legal counsel (the former Shoreland Scav captain) I will try to make some of the names involved as ambiguous as possible since this blog is open to the public (and I don’t really feel like using LiveJournal).
At any rate I was back in Chicago for Alumni Weekend. I left an UnCommon Core Lecture given by my old Biological Diversity professor, Dr. LaB to have lunch with Victor at Salonica, a lecture which culminated in Dr. LaB taking off his pants and standing in a water tank demonstrating the amazing world of biological fluid mechanics. This has nothing to do with the rest of the story but it needed mentioning.
At Salonica, Girl #1 called me just as I’m sitting down into the booth. She wanted to meet up, as friends, and actually this is the least messy romantic flameout involved in this story. We made plans to have dinner that night. I gave Victor a vague response as to who Girl #1 is. He justifiably gave me a skeptical look.
Some time as we were finishing up lunch, Paul, an old friend, CS major, Mac Labbie, and Max P Scavvie comes into the diner and saw both of us. He’s waiting for Harold, another ’06 alum who’s now working in SF for Facebook. Unfortunately, Harold was walking to Salonica with Girl #2, who I haven’t had a decent conversation with since May 2005. I made a horrified look, Victor realized who she is too, Paul informed me Salonica has a men’s bathroom in the back. Inside said men’s bathroom, I texted Victor, “Is it safe?” His reply: “Yes.” Coming back to the booth, I asked if it was bitter and rancorous of me to host the Shoreland Scav HQ in my dorm triple that year across from her room. Victor said it is if my only reason was because she hated Scav Hunt. I said the main reason was b/c Shoreland needed an HQ and it was an added benefit. He said then its okay if it wasn’t the major incentive.
Harold then joins us and then all four of us started talking about the good old days, and what's been going on in Chicago. After a spirited conversation on the etymology of the word “bugger”, I found out that Harold lived in a certain dorm, incidentally, one floor right above the girl who gave me the only reason to visit that dorm. I shared my experience about that disastrous night with Girl #3, including the involvement of a certain “Creepy Guy” who we all know… and know. Needless to say, some very personal information was shared. I apologized retroactively to Harold for any noise I may have made being there. All four of us discussed the uselessness of Creepy Guy.
So yes, I was forced to remember the wackiness of my romantic life at the University of Chicago, which possibly could make for a very bad after-school movie or a very good teen sex comedy. It really seemed all too coincidental. Any idea what God or the makers of The 40-Year Old Virgin are trying to tell me?
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1 comment:
And yet the most exciting part of this blog for me is the idea of Dr. LaB taking off his pants. I once spent a week with Dr. LaB and his family, driving about the Southwest.
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