It was sort of funny the way the Octumvirate expanded as the semester progressed. It started off with two roommates and then doubled into four people. In less than a month it snowballed into a group of eight students, plus or minus a few here and there. Any worry that we incoming freshman had about meeting people was quickly forgotten as each newcomer arrived. I first met Morty, then Morty and I met Leonard and Stan. We met Phil when he showed up claiming to know Leonard from somewhere. We met Alan when Leonard introduced him as being in one of his classes. We met Michael when we went to dinner with Alan. And so on.
Rex Hall was one of four large dormitories that sat on an elongated city block at the northern edge of campus. The dorms had been built in such a way that their back doors all exited into one large, shared parking area. This is the area where we first met Michael Arthur a few weeks into the school year. Alan had mentioned his roommate might join us, to which we all said he was more than welcome, but the guy continuously never showed up. Was he shy? Was he afraid? Was he some alcohol-induced phantasm that Alan thought up late one night?
One evening in early September, Morton, Leonard, Phil, and I approached the entrance to the long tunnel that led to the cafeteria. Alan usually waited for us here but tonight he had not yet arrived. Or so we thought. We found Alan off to one side of the parking lot watching someone throwing an aerobie, those lightweight, pink flying rings. Michael was going for height, trying to see how far above the buildings he could throw the disc-like toy. When he saw us he instead playfully flung it toward the four of us, barely missing Leonard’s head.
From this introduction, Michael could best be described as a very relaxed person. Very little fazed him and he much rather wanted to have fun than worry about bookwork or the seriousness of the semester. Still for all his playfulness his usual dress code was collared shirts, khaki pants, and the like. His major was English (I found that rather non-descript since he didn’t explain if his specialty was the language, composition, or literature) and he often identified himself as a “literary jock.” I like to think this stemmed from the quiz bowls he participated in that allowed him to showcase his amassed trivial expertise. Perhaps had academic strengths and prowess been celebrated in the same way that athletes were showered with praise then Michael’s abilities would have been better known across campus. Instead I’m sure he was thought of as nothing more than some geeky bookworm. On rare occasion he let slip with some of his arcane references during meals that resulted in nothing but confused looks from most of the rest of the group.
Michael and I didn’t interact much but the two of us did have Piggy. I was recently out of high school fresh on a multi-month class project involving The Lord of the Flies and still had characters and quotes on the mind. I had not spotted a Jack or a Ralph yet on campus but that large guy behind the pizza counter surely could double for Piggy due to his general annoyance.
There was, unbeknownst to most everyone it seemed, a silly rule that said you could not receive your main entrée or a secondary item, like pizza, at the same time. If someone wanted both the meatloaf and a slice of pepperoni that person had to find a table and set down his or her tray before returning to stand in line for that coveted slice of pizza; the general reasons being the staff encouraging better eating habits and trying to curb waste. I had discovered this the hard way early in the semester and remember being a bit perturbed but trying more not to laugh as I stood listening to this whiny kid waving a spatula and sputtering something about some policy. This anecdote amused Michael to no end because, as I later found out, he too had run into this same problem. Michael acted differently than I did for he went and told off the employee – telling him “sucks to your policy” or some such – and made it a habit of getting a slice of pizza a few times a week just to stare down his adversary.
This then was the genesis of my long-association with Lord of the Flies characters at college, most notably with my mimicking of rotund, bespectacled kids in striped red shirts named Piggy. The following semester was the last semester for pizza counter Piggy as he disappeared or graduated or something. Still, this bulgy cafeteria employee was the inspiration for a Lord of the Flies interview I did in an English composition course the next semester. Toward the end of my senior year I had to script a scene for a television writing course and chose to relive the Piggy interview from my freshman year.
Yes, all that happened because it was time for a pizza break.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Pizza Break
(Ben Fleming/Simon Fair Timony)
The Stinky Puffs
From the album Little Tiny Smelly Bit
1995
