A few days ago I was up begrudgingly @ 6am, working on my third cup of Halle Berry coffee. I’m sitting in front of my computer screen trying to work up the inertia to get back into my exercise regime, when I stumble back across a blog account of a college girl, Natala, entitled “Jesus and the Porn Star”. It’s an honest account of her friend “Marie” and the development of their friendship.
After many tears, I left my pc and hit the gym. But then I was reminded of my friend Dave.
Dave and I roomed together during my first year at ETBU. Heh. How that came to be is a funny story. On my housing application was the question, “What would you prefer in a roommate?” I’m sure they meant something spiritual like, ‘a devoted Christ-follower who doesn’t swear, drink alcohol, smoke, do drugs, or listens to anything other than Amy Grant.’ Ugh. What was I thinking? My answer? “Someone who’s NOT a morning person!”
So, in their collective providence, God and ETBU assigned Dave and I to the same room. Me with my newly starched shirts, my box of cleaning supplies, new sheets and pillowcase, and sparkling new Mr. Coffee. Dave, on the other hand, with his one box of stuff.
One Whirlpool refrigerator box.
The beauty (and hilarity) was in watching Dave’s parents move that behemoth up 2 flights of stairs while Dave stood in the corner lighting up a Marlboro Red. His parents were ecstatic he agreed to go to this little conservative, Baptist college. Dave was just glad to be out of rehab.
The first semester, we were the Odd Couple. I tried to keep the room clean while Dave filled it with smoke and empty Miller Light bottles. For fun, he would refill them with Lipton instant tea and stash them in the fridge just to aggravate the local God Squad in our dorm…)
Late at night, we’d lie in our respective bunks and listen to Husker Du, The Smiths, The Judys, or TSOL. Alternative bands that were, well, …really alternative. It was Dave that turned me onto Phil Keaggy, Dream Theater, Eric Johnson and Alan Holdsworth. We talked music and culture, philosophy and religion, or whatever events of the day intrigued us. Early on one night, I asked Dave, “So, why did you come here?”
“They wanted me, too.” He replied.
“Them, too. I mean, the school wanted me to be here and all, so I figured, what the heck. As long as they’re paying for it, I might as well come see who’s here…” said Dave.
Now he had my interest. “Whaddaya mean ‘paying for it’?”
“Well, Thomas,” (he’s the only one who’s ever called me Thomas) “They gave me some kind of Hollingsworth Scholarship because I did decent on my ACT.”
In Daveland, ‘decent’ means showing up stoned for the ACT and pulling down a 34 the day you get outta rehab.