Rooming with J (or part of the story)…

It is impossible to describe rooming with J. Maybe with graduation on the horizon and graduate school assured, I would have had a good time with anyone who threw parties almost nightly. I do not believe it. J and my place was where I was happiest in college. I believe it came from the special bond J and I developed and the experience of rooming with him. Since, I do not hold the literary skills to give it its due; I will share what a typical evening was like.

The Corona was in the fridge. The port was cheap. The rum was spiced. J and I were drinking Tito’s Vodka iced from the freezer mixed with orange juice. Each screwdriver had well over two shots of vodka. Exact measurements melted away as the evening wore on.

Other people drifted in and out of the room. Girls flirted with J. I coordinated food deliveries for the boyfriends. Chicken wings and cheap beer cans stacked up as freshman rolled in announcing how many drinks they had consumed that night. What had started as an evening of J and I watching TV turned into an event.

I left my seat only to go to the restroom and mix more drinks. From my corner throne, I observed the whole party leaning forward and joining in when I wanted to, leaning back and drinking in silence when I felt like it.

Some people headed downtown to the clubs. Others looked to score from M. J and I stayed. More people came. Finally, at 3 a.m., I went into my bedroom and felt the world spin. J and others stayed up.

I got up for my early class at 9 a.m., grabbed some O.J. without Tito’s, and would do it all over again the next night.