DUmmies lie. All the time, DUmmies lie.
You know, it's too bad.
When I was a freshman in college, I of course lived in a dormitory.
But then during my sophomore and junior years, I lived with a bunch of other guys from the Sandhills of Nebraska in a party house (actually, two of them; and in case one is wondering, yes, we always got our security deposit back); six one time, and eight another time, in a big old house, with multiple refrigerators for beer.
I was taken on board because of my impeccable credit record; I could get all utilities hooked up without paying any security deposits. And mothers of sons knew I could keep their offspring in line.
But then my senior year in college (it was actually my fifth year, because I took time off inbetweentimes to go to Europe), I moved back to a dormitory. This was because all of the old housemates were 2-3 years older than I was, and had graduated, and so I had nowhere else to go, and didn't particularly care where I went.
It was a peculiar situation, going from being the minor in a house full of adults, to being the "old man" in a dormitory. But I had my uses; I was called upon often to buy the beer, because I was the only one old enough.
When getting together with old college classmates and roommates, it demands I play a dual role--even these decades later, I'm still considered the "young kid" by the roommates from the party house, the one who needs "protected," and considered the "old man" by the dormitory roommates, the one who can handle anything and everything life tosses to him.
I remember this because a couple of weeks ago, I hosted a friend from the party house, and another friend from the dormitory, and I felt as if a yo-yo, playing that dual role.
