JUST WHEN I THINK I HAVE COLLEGE FIGURED OUT something goes and surprises me. I take night classes, which leaves me with about an hour or so inbetween work and school before my first class starts. I usually spend that hour wandering, and this past Tuesday found me wandering the same main hall. It’s become a hobby of mine to watch the people as they go past and try and figure out what they’re like – super chic, emo, trendy, social, unsocial (did I just walk past a mirror?).

So there I am, minding my own business when I hear music. A guy in a florescent pink shirt was strumming a guitar and playing peacemeal music with his croonies standing nearby. I guess I hadn’t really noticed that nobody else was walking past them, but I had to, my class was that way.

“Hey!! Hey you? Yea, YOU! You wanna hear a new song?” the shaggy-haired, pink-shirted guy called out to me. Not that there was any need for him to shout, seeing as I was only five feet in front of him.

Now don’t get me confused, I may seem over-confident online but in person I’m full of boring lines and awkward pauses. This was one of those moments where I tried to act invisible, tucking my head against my chest and moving forward thinking, Don’t pick me, don’t pick me, please don’t pick me. Shaggy-haired, pink-shirted guy literally ran after me down the hall, jumped in front of me and asked again if I would like to hear his song.

“Sure,” I mumbled. What else was I supposed to do? I needed to go that way and he was blocking my path.

“I’m going to sing you a song,” he paused, strumming his guitar for dramatic effect, “and it’s called, Getting Stoned.” One last strum finished up the intro before he began into a fast-paced tempo. It would have been catchy, had I been able to focus. I was too preoccupied trying to backpedal to clear my personal forcefield. You see, Shaggy-Haired, Pink-Shirted Guy was in the building and he was rocking out – in my face, singing like he was Steven Tyler of Aerosmith in front of crowds of millions, but the only thing he was crowding was my personal bubble.

“Erm, that’s great!” I said, cutting him off mid chord. I wanted desperately to dissapear, sink into the floor, anything to get me away from Shaggy-Haired, Pink-Shirted Guy, his guitar and most imporantly the crowds that had begun to gather and congest the hallway.

“You really liked it?!” He asked. I’m not a good liar at all, so I huffed a quiet “Sure” and walked away as fast as I could. The looks I got continuing down that hall was priceless, and I’m now regretting not getting his autograph and photo with him. That could be my lame clame to fame someday! Reporters would ask me how I met Shaggy-Haired, Pink-Shirted Guy and I’d gush, “well it all began back in college, when he exclusively sang me his hit song about getting stoned. . .”

But seriously, if you are ever in need of entertainment, don’t go to the TV, go to your local community college.