Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

So it’s a couple of days later, I think it might be Thursday because my roommate wasn’t home. He volunteers on the ambulance at URI and every Thursday he had night team, where he stays there all night in case there are any calls. The funny part is that he used to make fun of people who were on the ambulance, Whackers, I think he used to call them. There was one kid who he said used to wear his stethoscope to class. One time someone asked him why he was still wearing it, and he said that he didn’t even notice because he was so used to having it on. Peacock. Then all of a sudden my roommate joins and he ends up really liking it. I didn’t knock him for it (too much), but then he tried to get me to join too. He said it would be good for my resume and this and that, but it just wasn’t something I wanted to do. My Dad was even an EMT, so you would think it was in my blood, but I had other plans for my life (or maybe my life had other plans for me).

So anyway, Thursday night, roommate not home. I’m in the living room, sitting on the couch, doing my Latin homework on a TV tray, so of course I’m miserable. You’re probably wondering why I keep whining about Latin. I’ll explain why it’s the bane of my existence. If you’ve ever taken Spanish or French or maybe other languages, you know how all of the verbs have different conjugations so that they agree with the subject. So for every verb, there is like six other versions of that word you have to know. For the most part these versions follow a pattern which is easy to remember, but a great amount of them are irregular and have their own version that you have to memorize separately. In Latin there are conjugations, but you also have different forms of the nouns as well called declensions. So not only do you have to know all of the verb forms and make them agree, you also have to know all of the noun forms and make them agree! So if I’m translating an entire paragraph from English to Latin, I have to look through my note cards to see if it is a vocab word, if not I have to look it up in the glossary and get the Latin word, then look in the book to see if it is irregular so I know how to do the conjugation or declension, then back to my note cards to see how to change the word, then write the word in my notebook. And repeat…translation book, to note cards or glossary, to book, to note cards, to note book, ad infinitum. (Haha, get it? That’s Latin.) Oh yeah, and in Latin the word order is even more backward than Spanish, the subject is like at the end of the sentence “to create suspense,” so when I’m trying to piece a sentence together, the words are getting put in this seemingly random order and I have to try to leave room in-between all the words. God just thinking about it irritates me, writing it down even more so. I bet you’re getting irritated just reading about it. That’s the point - FEEL MY PAIN!

This time I didn’t have as much patience as before, so after a half an hour or so (I probably got only one sentence done in that time), I gave up. This came complete with the dramatic throwing of the pen, slamming the book shut and flopping back on the couch. I sit looking at the ceiling for a moment wondering why after four-plus years as a Music Composition student, this is what I’m spending a great majority of my time on. I should be composing music and nothing but. Isn’t that why I came to this school? I’ve got all of these ideas swimming around in my head all the time, but I don’t get a chance to do anything with them. I’ve even got this one big idea where I want to compose these pieces for orchestra and chorus based on books of the Bible, specifically, Genesis, the Passion and Revelation. Maybe I will even turn it into a musical or an opera or maybe even a movie. Not to mention all of the little ideas I get that I would like to experiment with. But no, this is what I’m doing instead.

I decide that I will allow myself a little break for some recreational reading before I start up again. I usually have a book with me at all times, just in case I’m really bored somewhere, I’ll have something to do. I settle in, get comfortable and crack it open, but I’m not even halfway through one page when I hear the screen door open. I crane my neck to try to see who it is. I figure it’s probably our neighbor who knows my Dad and my landlord from the Woonsocket Hospital where he works. He’ll just let himself in, and one time he even walked in while my roommate was changing, another time while he was “being intimate” with his girlfriend on the couch. I hear a knock which means it’s not him, so I mark my page, put my book down and get up to go answer the door. I’m curious now because I don’t get many random visitors. As I come into the kitchen and I have a more clear line of sight, I am able to make out the face that’s peeking in the window grinning at me and I chuckle. It’s one of my old friends from high school, probably the only one I still talk to, and he goes to grad school at URI. I unlock the door to let him in.

“What’s goin’ on, kid?” I ask as we grab hands.
“What’s goin’ on!?” he asks as we launch into that half-hand-shake-half-hug thing guys do. I call it a “man-shake”.
“How’re ya doin?” complete with a snap at the end.
“Not too bad thanks, yourself?” he says with this mock sophistication that is part of his personality. He’s hilarious.
“I’m awesome.” He’s wearing this red sweater that reminds me of these red shorts he used to wear with an orange shirt back in high school.
“Alright, good to see ya.” he says as he closes the door.
“You wanna come sit down? Can you stay for a minute?”
“Well I’d like to sit down, but I just had some hot wieners tonight. Not too sure about that, but let’s try.”
“Alright let’s see how ya do.”
“Alright.”

We go into the living room and I start to pack up my Latin.

“Let me just get some of this shit out of the way.”
“Oh, I wasn’t interrupting you bro, was I?”
“No, I was doing my Latin homework, and I was getting pissed off anyway.”
“You sure, man?”
“I had stopped to take a break anyway, I was just reading.”
“You know me, I’m a simple man! Don‘t wanna interfere here!” he says as he clenches and opens his hands in front of him, doing one of his favorite impersonations of a social studies teacher at our old high school.
“Oh no don’t even worry about it.”
We sit, but then I realized that I was being a bad host.
“You want a drink or something?”
“Ya know man, actually, my throat’s a little dry, and you know, I don’t know if you got any hard stuff.”
I give him a double take.
“No, I’m only kidding, but I told you I had those wieners right and I had a Coca-cola Classic. I’m drinking it, and the next thing you know, my stomach starts turning and all that stuff. So then I had an Awful Awful, the chocolate one. You can get chocolate and strawberry mixed together: bad scenario…”
“Uugghh.”
“…bad scenario, not feeling too good. I could go for some water if you have any.”
“Alright, yeah I’ll get you some water.”
“That’ll be awesome. I’ll come with you.”
“All right.”

We go into the kitchen and I pour us each a cup of water from the tap and hand him one.

“Ah I see you’re breaking out the good stuff for the company,” he says.
“Nothing but the finest for you my friend, this is Narragansett Spring water you’ve got there, almost as good as Woonsocket water.”
“Almost as good as Woonsocket water the key phrase my friend.”
“Ah, Woonsocket.”
“Well, Woonsocket is a City on the Move.”
“That it is.”
“You know, the mayor of Woonsocket is a nice lady.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to fuck her…but she’s a nice lady.”
“Is that the type of society we live in, where a woman is judged by her looks, instead of merit?” he asks sarcastically.
“Yes…yes it is,” I reply, honestly, but with a hint of humor.
“Yeah, you’re right…she is ugly.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Woonsocket water…mmmm,” He says as he lifts the cup to his mouth. He’s holding it with two hands like a child, with all of his fingers wrapped around the entire glass, and starts to drink, sorry, gulp the water.

Then an odd thing happens. It must have had something to do with the wieners and the Coke and the Awful Awful, and now adding this Narragansett equivalent of the water we grew up on. Maybe some of his tasty beverage went down the wrong pipe and he started to choke. In mid gulp, he projectile vomits into his cup! Like what the hell!? Who does that!? Only this guy. It was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, and I wish that I had caught it on video tape!

He runs off to the bathroom and I stay behind, kind of in shock because of what just happened, but not so much so that I can’t still laugh my ass off. After a minute or so, I follow him in to see if he’s OK.

When I go in there, he’s crouched down on his haunches leaning over the toilet. “Oh my God…Holy shit…” he says as he stands up and leans against the wall with both hands like he’s getting arrested. (This whole time I’m giggling like a little girl.) Then he spits, does a post-puke burp and spits again. “Oh my God…That’s gross…Dude this is NASTY…Look at that!” and he points to the cup on the bathroom sink, 1/3 of it water, then on top of that, 1/3 frothy wiener vomit. “Narragansett tap water…crap!” He flushes the toilet and starts to recover, as I’m wiping the tears from my eyes and settling down. I go back to the living room so he can clean up. I lay down on the couch and let the last few chuckles out, my sides and stomach hurting. Man did I need that after the day I was having.

After he’s done cleaning up he comes into the living room, I sit up and he sits next to me.

“You wanna watch a movie?” I ask him.
“No, I can’t. I gotta get up early tomorrow to get some work done before classes. Ugh, It’s getting ridiculous.”
“I hear ya. It’s like me with Latin,” I say. “At least we’ll get to hang out at my party!”
“Yeah! When is it?” he asks.
“This weekend…well, Friday… tomorrow.”
“Oh, Dude…I‘m going to be away this weekend.”
“Whaaaaaat!?”
“Yeah, me and my baby are going to Vermont.”
“Awwww, kid, you’re killin’ me!”
“We’ve had this trip planned for a while now.”
“But we haven’t had a party in a long time. Plus, remember what happened last time, when you didn’t come?” (it’s a long story.)
He drops his head a little, “Do I detect some hostility?”
I suddenly grab him by the shoulders and bug my eyes out, “Maybe just a bit!” Then I let go, “Nah I’m just givin’ ya a hard time. You go have fun in Vermont.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll make sure I’m here for the next one, I promise.”
“Alright, deal. Hey, do you have at least a little while, to sit and chat?”
“Yeah I can stay for a bit.”
“Cool.”

We catch up for the next 45 minutes or so, discussing everything from school to girls to politics to religion, as we usually do when we haven’t seen each other in a while. Then at out next lull, he gets up.

“Well, it‘s getting‘ kinda late.”
I look at my watch. “Yeah, it is. I’ll let you get goin’ Buddy.”
“Yeah thanks a lot, Pal.”
“I should probably get back to my Latin homework anyway. I’ll walk you out.”

As we head to the kitchen the phone rings.

“Let me just answer this real quick,” I say as I pick up the phone. “Hello?” I wait for a minute and don’t hear anything and instead of saying ‘Hello’ again, I just hang up.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“I don’t know, no one answered. Probably a telemarketer though.”
“What makes you say that?”
“When telemarketers call they wait for you to say ‘Hello’ a second time before they start talking. I think it’s to make sure it isn’t an answering machine. So I only say hello once. If no one responds, I hang up. It saves me a lot of time.”
“Huh, I’ll have to try that.”
“It’s a little tricky because you first instinct will be to just spit out ‘Hello’ again, so you have to think and be ready.”
“Well, Buddy, it was good talking to you, as always.”
“Yeah, you too, man. I hope your stomach is feeling better.”
“It is, thank you, Sir. Have fun at your party. Sorry I won’t be here.” He puts his hand out and we “man-shake” again.
“Hey don’t even worry about it. Next time. You guys have fun in Vermont.”
“We will. You know what they say about Vermont, right?”
“…No.”
“Me neither.”
“O.K. good. Well you give ‘em something to say about Vermont.”
“I will, I will. They want my skills…they get the full package!” (Whatever that means!?!?)
“Alright, drive careful.”
“You take care. Good luck with Latin.”
“Alright, thanks. I’ll see ya’ soon, Buddy.”
“See ya’ Buddy.”
“Later.”
“Goodnight.”

I shut and lock the kitchen door after he leaves. It was really good seeing him and he definitely put me in a better mood. However, now I feel a sinking feeling as I head back into the living room to try to finish my Latin homework before sunrise.