Nick and Dave

I don't know how you felt when your parents drove away from your dorm after you moved in for the very first time, leaving you as an "independent" adult, unsupervised, with a whole new world ahead of you. I felt liberated . . . freedom, at last. I'll eat whatever I feel like (and get fat), I'll go to sleep whenever (and miss my classes), and I have this room all to myself. . . . only I didn't.

I was a little late on the housing application, so I got stuck in basically the worst possible on-campus living condition you could imagine--a Permanent Triple. Now, for those of you who didn't go to UF, or aren't familiar with the term, this meant there were going to be two other people living in this room. Yes, one room, for three guys. It measured roughly 16 feet by 10 feet or so. There was one bunk bed, two small desks, and a loft (A bed built over a desk area with a dresser in a single, efficient piece of furniture). I was the first to arrive, although one of my roommates had dropped off some things in the room and went back home. I claimed the loft since I didn't really like the idea of sleeping in close proximity to strange men.... and I still don't.

Anyways, so for the time being, I had the place to myself. I probably spent most of the day playing Halflife: Team Fortress Classic on my newly acquired broad band internet -- remember, this was 1999 and high speed internet was no where near as wide-spread as it is now, so this was a huge deal. I didn't really know anyone at the time and part of me was looking forward to meeting my new roommates, even though the idea of sharing a single room with two guys I didn't know made me feel a bit uneasy.

The first to arrive was Dave. He was a nice guy, a bit overweight, and an avid viewer of porn--he had even left a tape in the TV/VCR combo in the room for me which I thought was a nice, albeit strange, gesture. Dave had a head of short, curly hair, and a goatee. If you've ever watched Entourage on HBO, he actually looked and dressed like the character Turtle... a "wigga" I believe was the colloquialism that aptly describes him. Dave for the most part was a nice guy, although he had some rather annoying habits.

Dave apparently had some issues with his nasal cavities, as he would frequently lose his sense of smell due to nasal congestion. This fact, in and of itself, is non-threatening, but combined with his eating habits, our room often reeked of spoiled meat and food. Dave might pull out an uncooked piece of meat from his mini-fridge during one of his episodes of temporary Anosmia, and while walking across the room towards me would look up at and ask, "He can you tell me if this smells bad." Faltering from the stench emanating from the meat, and panic-stricken at the mere thought of the spoiled beef approaching any closer, I held out my hand gesturing him to stop and yelled, "DON'T EAT THAT!" And so, he didn't.

There was actually another roommate before Nick: Alfonse. He seemed pretty cool but ended up petitioning to move out after about a week or so. (Why I never did that, I will never know).

Nick was the third roommate. I got along pretty well with him at first--he seemed pretty normal and laid back. He was a blonde-haired kid, with glasses and a rather mute, expressionless face. He wasn't in any way outwardly offensive, but after some time, I inexplicably began to find him so. I think perhaps it was just the stress of dealing with living in a single room with two other people after spending the better part of my life with my own room, my own limited sense of privacy.

I wasn't unfriendly to either of these guys (to my recollection), but after about 4 or 5 months, I wasn't particularly sociable with them either. In fact, I avoided being in that room as much as possible my Freshman year. I don't know, I guess the repugnant aroma wafting in the air, which, upon opening the door to the room, incurred the olfactorial equivalent of a punch on the face made living their less than desirable. Nights could be particularly brutal... you see, Nick had a bit of a chronic condition of his own--coughing. So going to bed with the cacophony of Nick's cough and Dave's snoring without the help of a horse tranquilizer was damn near impossible. I ended up spending countless nights lying in bed with my headphones on blaring (because loud music was more tolerable than the auditory torture being dealt by the two-man human body band).

So this was the living condition for Freshman year. I exchanged the ability to come and go at will, choice of diet, and the absence of curfew with sharing a small, single room, reeking of spoiled meat, with possibly the loudest sleeping members of society. I guess Freedom really does have a price.

Nick, Dave--wherever you are, I thank you for giving me a experience that where ever I live from now on, I'll think, Well, it could be worse.