Disheartened Fraternity Boys
Following my Intro to Horse Science class, I always walk to the university Cat Tran stop across from the Harvell building. After going to that same stop two days out of the week at least fifty times this semester at around the same time of day, one begins to notice things. The older and very tall man from India is there often, standing quietly looking down the street in the direction of the Teal tran's route. The row of motorcycles behind the lava rock wall always hold my interest for a few minutes at least. I like the orange one with white blazes on it and I always wonder what the person is like who rides the black motorcycle. Its kickstand is always propped up by a smooth, black rock and the seat is patched with gobs of black duct tape.
As I walked up to the stop, I noticed two guys waiting there. There was nothing unusual about these guys in particular except that I knew immediately they were fraternity boys. The fact that I could tell right away, puzzled me. I hadn't seen these two before and there was nothing marked about their appearance that tipped me off. I just knew. It was also strange to see them waiting at that stop. Usually when I catch the tran at that time, there are very few people at that stop and we continue down the road to pick up people from the Education building. There, at least fifteen people get on, mostly frat boys from the fraternity near the University Medical Center building. They pile on and drape their arms and legs all over the seats, filling the air with their odd and sometimes awkward conversation. Some days they talk about the hot Russian teacher or how they “own” their girlfriends, whatever that means. Most days they talk about sports, their speech riddled with “like”, “yeah, man”, “dude” and an array of unpleasant four letter words that would make a sailor cringe. They are harmless and otherwise sort of pleasant, and, although the cat tran drivers have told me some stories of those particular frat boys' rude behavior, I always see them pleasantly thank the drivers as they descend at their stop.
So, it was odd that these two fraternity boys were standing at a stop far from their usual place and it was odd that I recognized them as guys from that fraternity in the first place. They must have some sort of “frat boys from near the UMC” demeanor. I stood next to them in the shade, listening to their conversation. I had nothing else to do. My Creative Writing teacher had given us the assignment to listen for metaphors in everyday conversation, so I listened for that reason too, not really expecting anything spectacular. The tallest guy was saying something about a test.
“Yeah, dude. That test was hard.”
“Oh, F-in s***, man, I know what you mean,” responded the other guy.
This was not sounding promising. The conversation continued as the taller guy commented on how the teacher grades. Suddenly, tall guy said,
“The way the teacher grades is kind of F***-in unfair. I always have trouble with his tests and then knowing he is a hard grader is just disheartening.”
Whoa! I stopped listening. “Disheartening?” Did I really just hear the word, “disheartening” come from this guys' mouth? What a beautiful word! I marveled at his use of it. It sounded vulnerable. He wasn't just covering his annoyance with the usual steal-coated cuss words. I marveled at the fact that this is probably the best and longest word I have heard any of them speak. The sound of his voice saying the word echoed in my head a few times as if to convince me that it really had been spoken. It wasn't a metaphor, but the conversation was worth listening to if only to hear him use that one interesting word. I wondered if he secretly liked to use soft, literary, interesting vocabulary, but chose to hide his passion with jagged, angry words.
My reverie was soon broken. As if to make up for his moment of “weakness” in using such a telling word, he hammered down another hard F-bomb in the next sentence and continued with a tirade of unsavory descriptions of his attitude towards those #@***!!!?**@ tests.
Ah, well a moment like that can't last forever.
As I walked up to the stop, I noticed two guys waiting there. There was nothing unusual about these guys in particular except that I knew immediately they were fraternity boys. The fact that I could tell right away, puzzled me. I hadn't seen these two before and there was nothing marked about their appearance that tipped me off. I just knew. It was also strange to see them waiting at that stop. Usually when I catch the tran at that time, there are very few people at that stop and we continue down the road to pick up people from the Education building. There, at least fifteen people get on, mostly frat boys from the fraternity near the University Medical Center building. They pile on and drape their arms and legs all over the seats, filling the air with their odd and sometimes awkward conversation. Some days they talk about the hot Russian teacher or how they “own” their girlfriends, whatever that means. Most days they talk about sports, their speech riddled with “like”, “yeah, man”, “dude” and an array of unpleasant four letter words that would make a sailor cringe. They are harmless and otherwise sort of pleasant, and, although the cat tran drivers have told me some stories of those particular frat boys' rude behavior, I always see them pleasantly thank the drivers as they descend at their stop.
So, it was odd that these two fraternity boys were standing at a stop far from their usual place and it was odd that I recognized them as guys from that fraternity in the first place. They must have some sort of “frat boys from near the UMC” demeanor. I stood next to them in the shade, listening to their conversation. I had nothing else to do. My Creative Writing teacher had given us the assignment to listen for metaphors in everyday conversation, so I listened for that reason too, not really expecting anything spectacular. The tallest guy was saying something about a test.
“Yeah, dude. That test was hard.”
“Oh, F-in s***, man, I know what you mean,” responded the other guy.
This was not sounding promising. The conversation continued as the taller guy commented on how the teacher grades. Suddenly, tall guy said,
“The way the teacher grades is kind of F***-in unfair. I always have trouble with his tests and then knowing he is a hard grader is just disheartening.”
Whoa! I stopped listening. “Disheartening?” Did I really just hear the word, “disheartening” come from this guys' mouth? What a beautiful word! I marveled at his use of it. It sounded vulnerable. He wasn't just covering his annoyance with the usual steal-coated cuss words. I marveled at the fact that this is probably the best and longest word I have heard any of them speak. The sound of his voice saying the word echoed in my head a few times as if to convince me that it really had been spoken. It wasn't a metaphor, but the conversation was worth listening to if only to hear him use that one interesting word. I wondered if he secretly liked to use soft, literary, interesting vocabulary, but chose to hide his passion with jagged, angry words.
My reverie was soon broken. As if to make up for his moment of “weakness” in using such a telling word, he hammered down another hard F-bomb in the next sentence and continued with a tirade of unsavory descriptions of his attitude towards those #@***!!!?**@ tests.
Ah, well a moment like that can't last forever.
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