He was clearly going to be the responsible one…
It’s never like the movies. I knew this much as I unlocked the door to my second floor dorm room in Segundo. I found my roommate already settled on one not very decorated side of the room (the side that I would have preferred, but it wasn’t the end of the world). My overly enthusiastic mother introduced herself first and hugged my roommate, who introduced himself as Paul once my mother stopped restricting his airway. I knew that every depiction of college I had seen on TV and in movies was complete bull, but that somehow, I’d find a way to have fun in cow town — on my own terms.
I’m from Los Angeles and contemplated turning back several times on the long road up The 5 (not “I-5,” to be clear). I’m from a beach town in south county, and most of my décor is clichéd and very telling of my nautical upbringing. My lack of effort isn’t because it reminds me of home — I just never cared.
Both families went to the dining commons to eat together because everyone was in the mood to talk to each other after a long day of traveling. No one knew what to get, so we all stuck to the salad bar and pizza. Paul and I said goodbye to our parents (that we would be seeing at every possible break) and awkwardly walked back to our dorm. I forgot my ID, but Paul didn’t. He was clearly going to be the responsible one. We both plopped on our beds. Paul pulled something out of his pocket and offered it to me, but I couldn’t see what it was behind the desk shelf and leaned forward to catch a glimpse.
Next week: There were two of him
The print version of this article was written in third person, not first person.
Written by: Terry Hudson
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by Terry Hudson are completely fictional and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie. The story is fictionalized, as is Terry Hudson.