An eclectic crew who co-existed comfortably in a dilapatided house just off campus, my roommates and I have many college memories. With classes scattered throughout the day, our flexible schedules meant we often would be home at random times during the day. While we socialized frequently, we did not keep each other abreast of where we would be every minute.
At a University known for academic excellence, each of our roommates had unique personalities who contributed to our cast of characters. For the purposes of this story, there are two key players – The Physicist and The Jock. The Physicist was a real Bill Nye the Science Guy – a nerdy dude who could do your homework while experimenting with electrons. At the other end of the spectrum was the jock. We weren’t quite sure how he got into the Ivy League, but he did throw a great football and brought pretty girls to our parties so we overlooked his intellectual deficiencies.
One afternoon, The Jock was fast asleep, likely missing a lecture when he awoke to a loud series of bang, bang,bang sounds. He jumped out of bed, ducking for cover and grabbed his phone. He dialed quickly, “Yes, 911, this is an emergency. There is an intruder in my house with a gun. He is shooting everywhere.” The operator replied, “Stay calm. Is there anyone home with you?” “No, all my roommates are out at class. I’m home alone.” He mumbled the address quietly. Meanwhile, the shooting sounds continued from upstairs.
Within minutes, the swat team arrived at the front door to the house. There really was not much to do in this low crime city – this might have been the most police excitement in a decade. The Jock cowered under his bed as he heard them work their way through the house in search of the madman.
Suddenly, the shooting sounds stopped. The Jock could hear the police identify themselves and called for him to come out of his room. Initially hesitant, The Jock emerged from his cave to the hallway where he was greeted by the men in bulletproof vests and his roommate, The Physicist stood awkwardly next to them, dressed in his solar system pajamas.
“Sir, I believe we found your shooter!” the policeman said to the Jock.” as he simultaneously handed him a thin DVD boxset. Looking down, he saw the title and instantly felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Of course, The Physicsist had created the best sound system in the house. He had set up an elaborate network that potentially might have redefined Hi-Def Television had he not gone been distracted by finance. And he had been watching The Matrix. The Jock was supposed to be the tough guy of the house. He never lived this down, we all made sure of it.