Sleep deprivation, fear side effects of rommate

There are certain things we’ve come to expect from the college experience ? rites of passage… There are certain things we’ve come to expect from the college experience ? rites of passage and iconic moments without which the world would be poorer.

What kind of people would we be without that first time waking up in the gutter, unable to remember the night before, with a member of the opposite sex asking, “So, is this gonna be serious, or what?”

It’s missing out on that rare moment in a dingy basement when a Jim Belushi wannabe turns to you and says, “Dude, this is just like Animal House,” and you realize, my god, it is ? you are living the dream.

But enough of that nostalgia. We know about those milestones in a college career. Sometimes, though, we forget about the other things. We forget about, for instance, lying in dark, silence, trying to fall asleep, and hearing a fart echo from the bunk below you. Followed by a giggle. There’s one experience everyone wants to forget about, but which I believe is just as important as, say, a degree ? Awful Roommate purgatory.

My Awful Roommate experience occurred, as for many, during freshman year. For some reason, I’d asked two giggly sophomore girls where, on campus, I should live my first year. They had a hidden sadistic streak, suggesting I stay in the Towers. “Because they’re, like, so close to everything!” they said, before flaying my back with a cat-o’-nine-tails. By “close to everything” they actually meant “cramped and poorly lit,” but I’d forgotten my college-girl translator; I thus ended up living in Tower A. The first thing I noticed while moving in was that my roommate had a foot-high R2-D2 perched next to the bunk beds. “Sweet,” I thought, “I can handle any kid dorky enough to bring that along.” He may have had Star Wars bed sheets too.

Oh, how wrong I was.

It’s hard for me to describe my Awful Roommate without using his own words against him. I could tell you that he covered his side of the room with pornography ? and I don’t mean Playboy centerfolds, I mean hardcore porn ? or that every morning he woke me up with an 8 a.m. rendition of Metallica’s “One.” Or how he once used so much hairspray that his headphones cemented to his ears.

To capture his essence, though, I have to share some quotes. Luckily, I started taking notes and sending out a weekly newsletter chronicling his sayings and doings. No one believed that quotes like, “I’m never getting life insurance, that’s like putting a bounty on your head,” could possibly be real. Or, “I need to pick up some new porno magazines. The problem is, I never have enough time to read them.”

And, for some reason, he kept calling me a wife beater. Just to clarify ? I don’t have a wife, nor do I beat her.

His name was not actually Oscar, but we were an odd pair. We’d go to parties, staying until midnight, when he had to be back for the new Batman cartoon.

Did I mention he had a porno movie called “BatBabe” that he’d watch all the time? Yeah, that’s why I told any girls that wanted to come back to my place that I was homeless. Just kidding ? no girls wanted to come back to my place, even after I told them about my collection of erotic lithographs. Then, he’d say something like, “I hear the voices of kids yelling and just want to kill myself.” I’d reply, “Wait, can you say that again? I didn’t get all of that.”

Yes, he was totally insane. Every now and then, after hearing something like, “You know what would suck? If your uncle were a sheep,” I’d ask him, “Dude, do you know just how insane you are?” He said he did. That’s why he was majoring in business.

I guess one lesson you can take away from the Awful Roommate Experience is this: They are out there. Your friend, your brother, your Internet chat friend ? even you ? may be one. You will find them and you will end up living with them. You may even begin to tolerate them.

And you’ll bond with them. Oscar, for example, last e-mailed me two years ago to let me know he was working at a photo-development place in Florida and playing heavy metal on the weekends. That’s the kind of lifelong connection you’ll form. People will say, who was that crazy person? And you’ll reply, that was my insane Awful Roommate.

Be sure to take good notes.

Jesse Hicks still has those newsletters. Subscribe at jhicks@pittnews.com