I recently reunited with my college roommate, and nostalgia ensued.
It was rather humorous (and not a little disturbing) to find that each of us had forgotten large chunks of our college experience, most of which were brought back to vague and struggling memory by the prompting of the other person. Some things one of us won’t remember at all. (Which, yes, does imply that there are things that neither of us remember – I know this, but I’m in the company of Cleopatra about that reality.) For instance, I didn’t remember a certain, and apparently extremely good-looking, guy with dreadlocks. But she doesn’t remember stealing another friends’ underwear, intending to mail back one pair a day for the next month. Or that it was my mentor, a professor from the psych department, who gave us the idea in the first place. (We didn’t hide the stash well enough and were discovered.)
But the things we both remember best were our successful pranks. We played most of these on our RA or on our neighbors.
I’ll just give you a few highlights.
We sticky-noted large messages about drugs and other ghastly behaviors on our neighbors’ walls. (Remember, Christian college. Such things were shocking.)
We took a bucket of 500 mint Lifesavers and hid them in our RA’s bags, shoes, pockets, drawers, and socks.
Then, my roommate’s grandmother sent her this truly horrible bottle of perfume. If you combine the power of skunk odor with the sickening-sweet of pansies and the throat-searing burn of formaldehyde, you might have an idea of what this stuff could do. But, since it was a gift from her grandmother, and my roommate was a good Christian girl, she couldn’t throw it out. We tried to give it away several times, but it was like a toxic boomerang.
I was suddenly inspired. Spray it. Outside, you might ask? No. In our RA’s room. We sprayed every article of clothing she owned, spritzed every blanket, wafted over every pillow (she had many) and pumped that spray bottle over her carpet until our pointer fingers ached.
Then we went to dinner.
We came back, over an hour later, wandered into our dorm, up the stairs, and pulled open the door to our floor.
We started to walk in and our eyes started to water, and my roommate started coughing.
“Oh my gosh! It’s leaking out into the hallway!”
We sprinted past our RA’s door and into our room, slamming our door and racing to open our windows.
Our RA never did say much about that. I’m not sure how she slept that night. Or for the week after that, actually.
That was just a small sampling, and not even the best of the things we remember. Maybe I’ll tell you the rest another day.
For now, we’re going to go out and make new memories. And take lots of pictures so they’re easier to remember.