I've decided the best way to write about my freshman year roommate, Logan, is to try to do it chronologically. The truly bizarre tales should be earned by you, the reader, and given greater context by having some background.
It was mid-summer 2000 and I had received my housing assignment letter. None of my friends from HS were going to the same college that I was so I took the "computer compatibility" housing option. This wasn't about personality, but a basic set of living questions that boiled down to 1.)Have you lived with a smoker? 2.)Are you a morning person or an evening person? and 3.)Would you be willing to bring a fridge or TV, and if so, which?
I opened the letter to see that my roommate was Logan, from Tennessee. Immediately my older brothers put forth the speculation that he was a big black dude. I, being a white boy from Milwaukee, could only agree. The letter also said that he would bring the TV and I the fridge.
I never got to use the contact number to call and confer with Logan becuase the phone company royally fucked up the entire area code and no one in it had phone service until after I'd be at school. The first contact with Logan would be in person.
Upon arriving at school I left my shit in the car to check in and get keys, etc. I find my RA, get shown my room and find a genteel white boy, with 3 generations in tow, and a dorm room that is completely decorated. Both beds made, both dressers full, etc. The RA tries to introduce me, but we are informed by a middle-aged southern woman that, "This is Logan's room." which prompted the following exchange between Logan's mom and the RA:
RA:And this is his roommate.
LM:But Logan got here first, let him use another room.
RA: This is their shared room.
LM:I understand he brought a refrigerator. Where is it?
RA:So you'll take his fridge, but expect him to live in another room? Ma'am, it's pretty simple. They share this room. Logan gets half. He gets half. One bed, desk, closet and dresser each. Now please clear out half of the room so he can move in. They share the sink, fridge and whatever else they decide.
So Logan sits there in silence while his daddy, granddaddy, and great granddaddy start tossing one half of the room. They all grumble about the inconvenience and injustice and that Logan's lefthanded so he should have his own room.
I am left-handed. I am also fucked. He's sitting there like a psychopath, and my very existence is already a problem for him. I had no idea what I was in for.