Once upon a time, in what seemed like a galaxy far, far away was Frostburg, where I was settling into my new life as a college student. I was free; 2.5 hours away from home with few responsibilities aside from homework, laundry, and feeding myself Ramen Noodles.
So, I'll be kind and rewind and take it back to the mid-two thous - '06 to be exact. It was moving day and I was carrying a box of mixed CD's up to my 4th floor apartment. WE UP IN DA PENTHOUSE YO! I couldn't wait to charm the new roomies with my timeless, eclectic music collection...I mean, c'mon, we were in college and I felt if we were going to be reenacting 'Animal House', then it was only appropriate that the Ying-Yang Twins and Journey came along for the ride.
With my box in tow, I meet 'Mike' in the hallway. Mike seemed friendly enough in his Wrangler jeans and baseball cap. So, good 'ole Mike asks me to go get ice cream the next day. Being the smart ass that I am known to be, I really wanted to say 'uh, sure let me go grab my poodle skirt and I'll meet you at the malt shop with Rizzo and the rest of the gang'. Instead, I smiled and said 'sure', because even though I wasn't attracted to this guy, he was NICE and with that, he's deserving of a chance.
Oh, Michael Zucco!
While we're chatting over our DQ Blizzards - by chatting I mean he's talking my ear off and I'm spaced out thinking how I wish my dessert was a beer instead - Mike casually asks me when my birthday is. I don't miss a beat and spit out 'January 31st'. I resume my mental vacation, which is cut drastically short when I hear him say he can't wait to see what's in store for us and something in his eye was telling me he wasn't talking about the indigestion all this dairy would soon cause. There were plenty of hills around and I wanted to be running for them. Fast forward to 2 weeks later; let me stress it's a Tuesday night in mid-September, Ice Cream Mike strolls down the hallway and knocks on my door. He pulls a *drum-roll please* bottle of Hypnotiq from behind his back and says 'Happy Early Birthday!' (um, what?) I say, 'thanks!' take the bottle, shut the door, and leave the party patrol outside.
Looking back, I know how rude that was of me - Mike was just trying to be nice, and I didn't even invite him in for some blue drank. Where was Fiddy Cent? It was clear we were gonna party even though it's not ma birfday. What can I say? I was a selfish 20 year old that was just given a rare gift - free booze - forget that I didn't like him or had shitty taste in alcohol - it didn't cost nothin', except maybe a broken heart. Ah, yes...immaturity at it's finest. I wanted to run outside into the hallway and invite all my neighbors over for SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! - with Lil Jon and EVERYBOOOOODY except Mike, who's ear was probably pressed against my door.
Goose got me loose!
A few nights later, Mike was back at my door, bottle-less but drunk. My roommate, Lindsay opened the door and was greeted with his wet, blotchy, snotty face. Mike was inconsolable; in between his sobs he demanded to see me. Little did he know, I was a few floors down ripping shots of Jager with some new friends who didn't buy me early birthday gifts. Down on his knees in the frame of his doorway, Mike stood up, tears still flowing out of his swollen eyes. Without any hesitation, Lindsay lightly pushed Mike out of the threshold and he stumbled backwards into the wall. After she shut the door, she continued to watch him through the creep peep; Mike was still leaning against the wall until he slowly slid down, leaving a trail of black dye from his shirt.
Poor Mike. I'm not sure what became of him after that night - it's like he disappeared into thin air, if not into the wall. They say there's someone for everyone and I'm hoping Mike eventually found his very own Dairy Queen.