Monday, October 03, 2005

I consider myself an accomplished intelectual bulimic, capable of gorging information at the last minute and vomiting it, only partially digested, on a test or quiz. All I need is a little time.

The last time I tried to do this was on friday, a mere sixty minutes before my Social Psychology exam. An hour, I thought, would be sufficient to cram six chapters of material down my aching gullet. No problem. I'd done it a bajillion times before.

So, after Women's Studies, I hunkered down with my books at a long table in Whispers cafe. Sixty minutes. There would be no time to spare.

No sooner had I opened my textbook, than a bum - a grizzled, toothless man of the streets - sat down across from me. My nose detected him well before he introduced himself. If I had to guess, I'd say that his last shower must have been two weeks ago, give or take a night in a dumpster. He smelled of carrion and sour butter.

A moment later, one of my friends (we shall call her Carrie) sat down next to me, across from the homeless fellow. The two of them set up a chess board between themselves. The bum proceeded to instruct Carrie in chess strategy - a lesson which culminated in an animated practice game punctuated by his lisping commentary.

Because my time was so short, I could not get up and wander the overcrowded cafe until I found another table. And yet, I could neither drown out their conversation (I had forgotten my headphones), nor rid my nostrils of the bum's repulsive odor.

I'm not a cruel person. I try hard to avoid making arbitrary judgements of my fellow man. However, this bum smelled so bad, it was all I could do to keep from wretching. The funny thing is, Carrie didn't seem to notice his fragrance at all.

Such an environment was not at all condusive to cramming. My test score reflects that fact. I'm surprised I passed.

shiny objects