Leap from the top bunk. More or less land gracefully. Stagger. Slip into my flip-flops. The room is fuzzy at this point and filled with little grunts and sleep sounds from the other constituents. Towel. Shower caddy. Then a trudge down the hall to the showers.
Twelve or thirteen more of the cement and tile, military style showers that were so common here. Now was a good time to shower, because i wouldn't find myself waiting in a line to do so... the closer the clock came to 8:30 am, the more likely you were to be waiting in a line, 5 men deep. This was certainly not how i had come to think of bathing before school. Before here, showering was something that was equal parts sanitation and therapy... think, Calgon commercial... or, a Dove ad in Seventeen.
Not so here. It was just another part of commerce. To be completed as quickly as possible. Lather up... Spray yourself off. Offer polite conversation to other shower members.... but only if they begin the conversation. If other members of the shower happen to be singing, it is impolite to giggle, chortle, or guffaw, regardless of their pitch and tone. You must never enter the shower without sandals of some sort. The floors ( and likely more surface areas of the showers than I'm comfortable thinking about ) are crawling/ swimming with bacteria of every sort. Ebola. Hantavirus, Athletes foot, tennis elbow, and scurvy. It would be fool hardy to consider ones immune system strong enough to withstand attacks from the shower floor. If you cut yourself shaving, you'd better have good insurance.
I returned to the room to dress and the time keeping the pulse of the clock, as being late to a class was something that i could not allow myself to do. I did not want run-ins with the Authority. I was in the habit of styling my shorty-short brown hair with a product not un-like roofing caulk. Think hedgehogs with crew cuts. Already i had begun to re-style myself to send subtle messages about my individuality apart from the confines of Almighty Handbook. As far as i could tell, dress categories here amongst students could be more or less follow the major divisions of the Cast, and the styles would follow the divisions respectively, from most popular to least.
Dress Clues to Cast Membership:
Prep: Generally a style most used by members of the upper strata of the Cast, Prep males were outfits that fit like they were tailored for them. P-coats in the winter or trench in the rain. They carry their books in leather bags that they sling over their shoulder. Colors are conservative, or ever so occasionally gem tone. Ties in patterns that can be found in 17th century French wallpaper. Hair styles deviate ever so slightly from the confines of AH.... the slightest stylistic variation to send a message.... I was learning quickly how these messages worked. Female Preps were much easier to spot. Just look down. A heel of three inches and higher worn daily almost always indicates membership in this style block. Pencil skirts are quit common, as well as knee length tailored wool coats worn in the winter with scarves and pearls. After looking down, look up. female Preps wear their hair in voluminous slightly curled-volumized-shiny shoulder length manes. They spend hours cultivating this look in the morning. They carry all of their scholastic needs for the day in a large purse. Large enough to fit a laptop, and two books. These purses are commonly made of leather, or faux snake-skin. Dress colors vary, but stick to a common theme of slate and jewel tones.
Common American Eagles: The broadest stylistic block. This group contains members of all sections of the Cast. As the name indicates, anything that American Eagle sells, goes. That's nearly all i need to say. Females in this style block almost always wear ballet flats. Males choose khaki distressed chinos and button downs in colors that it would be easy to ignore. Leather shoes.
The Shunned: These were the rest of the population. The ones who hadn't attached large portions of their ego to the cost of the threads on their backs. Tennis shoes or cousins of the tennis shoe are common among both genders. Males wear button downs in a solid color... and they are often one half size too large; and/or pleat fronted chinos in navy blue. You must at all cost avoid dressing beneath your allotment in the cast.
Introduction to Music Literature.
It was one of the core classes for any music major here and as such was quite populous. Any student who had planned to perform or teach anything in the musical realm would have to take this class at some point along their journey. The class was lead by a short and delicately precise man named Fred Coleman. He drove at break-neck speeds, giving sweeping over-views of a large portion of Western Music. On the first day of class heir Coleman instructed that we should feel the liberty of referring to him affectionately as ‘Uncle Fred.’ I chose not to. I decided that there was quite enough fantasy here without having to imagine that I was related to the teachers. His teaching style was quite theatrical. He came up with clever acronyms for remembering important names and dates, and once or twice leaped onto the bench of the 9 foot Steinway to make a point and awaken a few of the members of the class. Even though it was a three credit class it had the reputation of being as easy as yawing, and thus lured in students with such far reaching majors as ‘Missions’ and ‘Counseling’ or ‘Being A Virtuous and Child Bearing Woman.’
It was absolute foolishness for me to have taken the class first semester, topping off my work-load at 20 credits straight out of the gate. I had nothing to compare the work-load with, however, and so thought nothing of it. This was one of the classes that i didn’t study for. Five or six rows 20 people long filled with bright eyed pupils converged in a large diamond shaped room precisely at three o’clock in the afternoon Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. A sweeping variety of the social strata were represented, and as we were seated by our last names; I would be situated between a quiet, mousy-brown haired Jane Doe Groupie and a mute Seriously Serious Musician.
Time was moving quickly to the point where everyone should have chosen their opposing-gender companions for Artist Series. I had no idea where to begin. Women out-numbered men on the campus two to one. Perhaps because statistically women tend to pursue higher education more these days…. Or it could be because they’re more likely to believe that wearing panty hose would grant you special privileges in the after-life. Be that as it may, if I had too I could resort to making a randomized phone call to one of the woman’s dormitories…. Whoever. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Just pick one. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. I would need to come up with something soon though. I would by no means allow that barrel-chested puppet of the regime, Roland, to predict my social arrangements.
There were a few minutes before class started in which the students were shuffling their things around willy-nilly and chattering about assignments or other events. At the beginning of the semester moods were light and the students felt free to cross the boundaries of the social strata. A love of music was the common thread. It was a room full of people who in some way or another, worshipped beauty. Same as me.
I was bored with the people sitting beside me, so I turned around to survey the row behind. Girls. Perfect. I scanned the row homing in on those who looked like they were closest matches to my own situation in the Cast. My eyes darted around quickly assessing tiny details in dress or conversation. Assessment 100% complete.
Me: “Hello!” I said brightly. “I’m Josh! What’s you’re name?” I offered the girl behind me in a tinsel covered tone.
Girl: “I’m Christine.” She replied. Her tone was quizzical. She had a smirky look on her face… like I was speaking elvish or something. “I know who you are.”
Target Acquired. Parameters set… This would be my female companion to required entertainment. Christine was an inch shorter than me and had shoulder length ash blonde hair that fell gracefully to her shoulders. Straight white teeth. Im quite partial to people with good dental hygiene. She had fascinatingly large blue eyes the color of a frozen lake. Gray blue. She used them to regard me with skepticism.
Me: “Hey…. So…. Do you have any plans for Artist Series?”
Christine: “Not yet.” Languid. Emotionless. Complicated.I liked her already.
Me: “Well…. Hm…. Wanna go with me?”
My tactlessness amused her. I amused her in general. At least that what her smallest of smiles indicated.
“Sure.” She said.
Click.
Mission accomplished. We talked a little more before class started. I attempted to sculpt away the awkwardness of my introduction/invitation with a bit of humor. Fred started the class with a prayer. He asked mystic Hebrew god to guide the class towards knowledge… I listened intently and took pages of notes. I would soak up everything he had to say.
