I Am On The Case

I Am On The Case

The other day I blogged about my first cooperative experience.  Seeing recent college graduates on the train, excited for their own first work assignments, brought it about.  While these youngsters carried computer and book bags, I viewed across the aisles to see the elder statesmen toting briefcases.  It brought to mind my experiences with my first college roommate.

I was barely 17…but fully clothed.  I was excited about entering dorm life and the college experience.  My girlfriend terminated my employment, so I was available for a fresh start.  I thumbed through Drexel’s brochure and decided my dorm choice would be Calhoun Hall.  A semicircled building, it was eight stories high.  At the time, it was the standard of residential living at Drexel.  With my selection made, the paperwork was sent out.  In mid September, prepared and packed, my Mom drove me down to Philadelphia.  As we arrived at Calhoun Hall, Arch Street was filled with double-parked cars.  We found a spot among them and headed into the dorm.  We waited in line at the front desk.  When it was our turn a burly woman blurted out, “Name please”.  I gave her my name and she scoured the list.  She responded, “No Michael Walsh on the list.”  I said there must be some mistake.  I was then told that you must be assigned to another dorm.  Not thrilled that her well-orchestrated morning was going awry, she picked up the phone and called the Dean of Housing.  After a moment or two, she came back with some delightful news.  I wasn’t on ANY dorm list.  If I wanted, I could go to the Dean of Housing’s office and be put on a waiting list.  Great, was I supposed to commute from New York in the meantime?

We headed over to the Dean’s office on the other side of campus.  As other students met and prepped their rooms, my future residency was in doubt.  As we arrived, the secretary recognized my name from the phone call.  She asked us if I wanted to be placed on a waiting list.  It was then my Mom informed her, in a not so polite way, that we were down here from New York.  We had sent in the paperwork AND the check several weeks ago.  Apparently somewhere along the line it got lost.  They had no record of me at all.  I did however have one thing going for me.  I had arrived at Drexel a week early.  I was taking an elective that could be banged out in 5 days…3 easy credits.  The secretary, understanding our plight, came up with an idea.  The Dean of Housing was not there until classes officially started the following week.  There was a pile of letters to go out to students on the waiting list that had obtained rooms…and was awaiting his signature.  She pulled one out of the Calhoun Hall pile.  I would get that student’s room, and he would be placed back on the waiting list.  That student would still have a week until he started so something else might open up…and I was already there.  Plus, the Dean would be back next week…any problems with that student and he could handle it.  The secretary cleared the paperwork and we were on our way.

It was a Sunday, so as soon as the car was unpacked and I kissed my Mom goodbye…I put the Steelers game on.  The start of the second quarter saw the Steelers take the lead over the Oilers 9-7 on a Gary Anderson field goal.  It was the last thing I would see.  With a loud “POP” the television drew its last breath.  Mom was already long gone, but what could she have done at this point.  Not like she was carrying an extra TV in the car.  No matter.  The dorm had common rooms on each floor containing TV's.  I could just go there to watch the rest of the game.  Just one thing…the Eagles were playing at the same time!  Every TV in the dorm was tuned to that game.  It was the beginning of my dislike for that team.  From a 9-7 score to a final of 48-20, I missed a great game from a Steeler fan’s prospective.  My favorite player even picked off a pass and returned it for a touchdown.  The QB playing against the Steelers that day?  Archie Manning.  It would be the last game he would ever start.  Of course that would not be the last we would hear of the Manning name.  The following week I had an easy time passing my 5-day course.  It was made even easier since I did not have a TV or a roommate to distract me.  That Saturday Mom drove down to drop off an old TV we had used in the den…Mom’s are good like that.  She asked if I had met my roommate yet and I told her I hadn’t.  The rest of the students were scheduled to arrive on Sunday, that was when I would probably meet him.  Mom was off again, this time the TV stayed.  Sunday evening came, but my roommate never did.  No big deal, I got to know my other floor mates.

Two weeks would pass and still no roommate.  My newfound friends on the floor kidded me about it, "No one must want to room with you!"  On Tuesday of the third week, a few classmates and I arrived back on our floor.  My door was wide open.  At first look in I thought it was someone’s parent.  But no, it was he.  My roommate finally arrived.  What the secretary at the Dean of Housing failed to tell me was, since this was a waiting list fill, I would probably be residing with an upperclassmen.  And he was not just an upperclassmen, he was a 5th year senior.  Here we were, me 17…looking 14, and my roommate, 23…looking 30.  What an odd couple.  He was a nice enough guy though.  He informed me he was on co-op assignment, so he was in no rush to move into the dorm since his job was closer to home.  However, he wanted to be on campus…and now he finally was.  He was taking classes at night, so this would make things a lot easier for him.  He moved in with very few items, mostly just the necessities.  He had several suits and ties, and a briefcase.  The next morning when he left for work, he looked like he fell out of the Wall Street Journal.  Pressed and proper with briefcase in hand…like he could have been somebody's Dad.  Between work and class he was hardly ever in the room.  Whenever I would see him on campus…he had that briefcase in hand…whether it was off to work or off to class.  I am surprised it wasn’t tied to him with handcuffs.  I figured it must contain everything he needed for both.  The freshman even joked around I lived with  “The Briefcase Guy”.

About a month or so into my college career I began to settle in nicely.  I started to get familiar with the routine…the partying routine that is.  Did you think I meant something else?  The Greeks were rushing freshman…and I was among them.  I didn’t plan on joining but they didn’t need to know that.  It however allowed me access to closed parties where the female ratio was much higher.  And God knows I need all the help I can get!  At one of the parties, my buddy and I latched on to two nursing students from Harcum College.  We had heard something about Harcum, Park’em and “something’em” in the Dark’em (You figure it out).  And apparently so did they.  We let them know we had beer back at the dorm and with little effort they were more than happy to join us.  We chose my room since we knew my roommate was never around.  We arrived and as expected he was not there.  After a few beers the girls got even tipsier.  That was when one of them spotted it.  The briefcase!  I pleaded with them not to touch it.  It was my roommates and it must contain important documents…he takes it with him wherever he goes.  I was actually shocked he had left it behind.  The girl I had my eye on implored. “Let’s open it!”  I begged her not to.  But a quick smile from her and she knew I would let her have her way.  She pulled the briefcase from under the bed.  It was locked!  Whew!  Good thing.  But that wasn’t going to stop her.  She took off one of her high heel shoes and whacked the locked latch until it gave way.  Subtle.  She slowly opened the briefcase.

Now, what she found was not so much a shock to her and her friend.  They had not followed the trials and tribulations of the totted briefcase.  What had been so important?  What was it that my roommate could not part with…whether it was work or school?  Porn!  About fifteen magazines of all types…and nothing else!  And these weren’t Playboy.  These offerings would have made Larry Flynt blush.  As my friend and I were stunned, the girls believed this was just an elaborate set up.  They thought it was cute…and we would be rewarded for our efforts.  The next day the guys on the floor wanted to hear all the details.  However, it was the details of the briefcase they could not believe.

A few weeks later it would be the end of the semester and my roommate would move out.  I never did confront him about the contents of the briefcase.  We would, however, still see him frequently on campus…briefcase in hand.  I guess he couldn’t leave home without his stash.

I still chuckle when I see someone carrying a briefcase.