Ch. 1

I was talking to Evan earlier today, and we both mentioned that I had written anything for a while. "What should I write about?" I asked him. "Write about...write about us!" he said. "I like to hear your version of it." So here we go. I'm going to write it in several installments, so that those who want to read don't have to tackle a huge narrative in one sitting. (It will also give me a longer project to keep my occupied- teehee). Hope you enjoy!

It was the fourth day of orientation, and my brain was pretty fried. Perhaps it was from all the information it was trying to retain about this place called Drew, or maybe it was just because it was late August and as a result quite hot and humid outside. I had dressed comfortably for the long day, pulled my unruly bangs back, and had put on some make-up, still trying to create a good first impression to the people I would spend the next three years of my life with. For the first time that week dinner was not provided, and our orientation leaders thought it would be fun to introduce us to some of the restaurants in town. The group was larger than they had planned, so half went to a typical bar and grill along the main road, while the rest of us went to the adventurous sounding David’s Rumba Café. Tables had been squeezed together in this small, quaint family-run restaurant, and the owner and waitstaff were ready for us with smiles and pads of paper for drink requests. I sat between one of the orientation leaders (DBY) and a new friend. Leena was a classical violinist, so we would have plenty to talk about if conversation lulled. Across from me sat Shannon and a young man who did not return after the first semester. Conversations abounded, new people were introduced to us as they joined our ranks at the tables, and suggestions and decisions were made in regards to food. “This is my room-mate,” DBY said, and I glanced to see a cheerful enough man on his other side. His hair was wild and shaggy, beard unkempt, and he sported an old tie-died T-shirt. I couldn’t figure out how old he was, and it was too hard to hear, so I turned my attention back to the conversation at hand: Shannon was debating marriage with the young man in front of me.

The food was delicious, and I ate a ton of it! Chips and home-made salsa, maduros and some other form of fried plantain, black bean soup, and the most amazing burrito I have ever had in my life. The Cadillac. All too soon, but still hours later, we were dividing up the tab, figuring out who owed what, how much should we leave for tip…it was suggested that some of us go back to DBY’s apartment for drinks, and I accepted the invitation. I went up to Shannon’s room and together the three of us (her roommate Lauren joined us) went down to the boy’s room. Let me start by saying I have never been much of a party-er, that I have an insanely low alcohol-tolerance, and that new people (especially men) make me nervous. So I was very proud of myself for attending this last minute gathering, and for slowly sipping the glass of Argentinian wine Lauren gave me, listening to my new school mates talk. On the couch, reclined against a pillow, was DBY’s roommate. He seemed like a combination of a hippie, and a serene buddha; he immedietely struck me as the type of person people wanted to be around. He was like honey that bees flocked to, honey that is sometimes benevolent, but sometimes dangerous. I really wasn’t sure that I wanted to get close enough to figure out what kind of honey he was. I didn’t stay long, just long enough to have my glass of wine, before asking to be escorted home. DBY led me through the woods and showed me my house from the parking lot. I walked the rest of the way by myself, thinking about the new people I had met, and wondering what types of friendships would develop –or not –between us.