Tales From College

I have quite a few friends who are Hokies, and I, by association, am often presumed to be a Hokie as a result. I can say with 100% accuracy that I may have attended a few parties in Blacksburg, and may have even been making drinks for other Hokies at a fraternity party at one time or another, but under no circumstances am I a Hokie. As a matter of fact, I had quite a unique college experience, attending a south-of-here HBCU. Historically Black College or University.

See, as you may know, I-66 is classified as a blasian. Half black, half asian (Korean to be precise, but Blorean doesn’t roll off of the tongue). Smart enough in high school but not necessarily applying myself, I was limited in my post-graduation options and elected to go to the first place that would take me. I-66 U was, at the time, taking anyone with pigment and a pulse, so I was in… and that was a damn shame. Allow me to explain via stories…

  • Freshman year I stayed in an enormous tower of a dorm, but on the 3rd floor. At my desk I sat, typing away at something, when I saw my belt buckle move. Thinking that was strange because belt buckles don’t move on their own, I slowly looked down and saw it.

    A roach.

    On my belt buckle.

    I jumped up like I’d sat on a hot plate and started brushing off everything but my shoulder. I realized the perpetrator was no longer on my person and I started looking around on the floor, spinning like a top and looking in all directions. Finally I saw it, upside down with its little legs running on air, and stomped it out as if it were a fire. I looked up and my roommate was looking at me with his jaw hanging by a thread.

    “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked.

    “Roach. On my belt buckle.” I said between breaths.

    What I learned: We had big roaches. And that doesn’t even mention the dude who smashed one against the wall with an NBA slam dunk-style jumping bare handed swat in front of 10 other people and the fact that nobody would dap him up for weeks after that.

  • Not long after moving in did I learn that we did not have “coed visitiation”, which will be shortened to “coed” because that’s what we called it. It means what you think it means. On campus it was not permitted for members of the opposite sex to be in eachother’s rooms. This was problematic not only for the um… recreational… things, but also for group projects where it became necessary to meet in the library or another common venue. Under the “if you treat them like children, they will act like children” supposition, men and women would sneak up to the other’s room and when their business was done, they would pull the fire alarm to require everyone to leave and give the offender a chance to sneak out a fire entrance and not through the main lobby. Seems harmless, but not when the alarm is pulled at 3am when you have an 8am class to get up for.

    What I learned: HBCU’s are measurably more conservative than others. To say the least.

  • Sophomore year, a few of us were milling around a side lobby. One of the guys put a dollar into the machine to get a bag of chips or something and the food got stuck on the way out. He shook the machine and threw a forearm into it. Unpredictably, the glass shattered totally. Four or five of us stood and looked in shock, before looking up and realizing what was before us. Saying nothing, everyone in there ran up to their rooms, grabbed backpacks, and ran back down to the vending machine and emptied it out. We had snacks for weeks.

    What I learned: If you give us very little, we’re going to take what we can get when we can get it.

  • One evening while hanging out in front of the dorm, one of our boys came running around the corner and up the walkway. I mean, he was bookin it. He breezed past us and said only this through his heavy breaths before scampering into the building:

    “They chasin me”

    Two guys who looked somewhat bum-esque came running up seconds later and realized he was gone.

    “DAMN! We was gon get him!” they said before walking off.

    Three of us scrambled into the building and up the stairs to his room and opened the door and found him sitting on the floor in the corner. According to him, he was coming home from the 7-11 (which nobody ever went to alone, except him evidently) and these 2 guys called him over from behind a building. Our friend then ran and was chased. We think he probably left out the part where he said something about what they should do to themselves which caused them to chase him. Whichever.

    What I learned: Don’t go to 7-11.

  • And lastly, the most spectacular story…

    It was the night of the basketball intramurals championship game. Two teams faced off in the gym, but the match never finished because one of the girls in the stands threw a bottle down at one of the players. It smashed at his feet and he looked up in the stands quickly before running from the court to the bleachers, finding the offender, and bodyslamming her. To say a fight broke out is an understatement. Later that night there was semi-automatic gunfire at the dorm across the street. Rumor has it that the guy who slammed the girl was in vicinity and fled the scene, deciding to hide in my dorm. That is evidently the reason for the real fire that was started in a trash can in a bathroom upstairs from us. When the alarm went off, we assumed it was someone trying to sneak out of the building so we stayed in our room playing Playstation. My roommate and his friend came down and threw the door open and told us we’d better get out because it was a real fire. It started in the trash can on roommate’s friend’s floor and they stopped off to tell us. With everyone driven out of the building by the fire (the reason it was presumably started to begin with), if I’d been shot at I would’ve made for a location far away personally instead of standing around outside in the open, which may be why there was no drama outside.

    What I learned: Transfer. Now.

    Not good times.

  • One Response

    1. My son is also “Blorean” but your right…it’s not a very smooth sound.

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