The Honors Dorm

The Marks Brothers were in their usual state of repose, in the living room. I guess at this point I should give a layout of apartment Z, a place I'd come to know like Joyce knew Dublin...

The building itself was white and ugly. It consisted of 26 apartments, and was 3 stories. There were no elevators. There was a back yard of mostly dirt and gravel and patches of grass, named, of course, "The Outback." Even Honors students at UM worshipped the sun, and the girls would set up towels there (especially Christine, the best endowed, who would move there the following year, and whose bosom would be responsible for the beginning of a friendship that's lasted over 30 years --more on that later).

The guys would toss footballs and baseballs and frisbees there, and I ended up breaking 2 first floor apartment windows over my 3.5 years there, with errant throws...

The apartment itself had a dining area on the left when you walked in, with a pressed board table covered with peeling formica strips. On the right was a naugahyde couch and chair, and the Marks Brothers' amazing stereo, on plywood shelves and cinder blocks --a look I would copy for years after I left 22, in my first off campus apartments.

There was a kitchen off the hall, and then 2 bedrooms, each with 2 beds, and a single bathroom on the left. Continuing down the narrow hallway, there was another door that opened into an interior stairwell, and the next apartment, which always housed girls, during my tenure. A knock at the back door was always a positive thing...

The Marks Brothers shared the first bedroom, and I ended up alone in the second one. The deal was that you had to take an Honors course to stay in the dorm, and someone (probably a grade hungry pre med student) had dropped one, so I ended up, a second semester freshman, that Spring of 1980, with my own bedroom.

Building 21, the next door identical structure, served as the dorm for the swimming and diving team, and the Marks Bros had befriended Carl, a 6'4" blond adonis swimmer from rural Michigan. Carl fit right in with my roommates, and was ALWAYS in 22, since his own roommate, a "real Nazi" with the name of Vanderdyke, hated Carl, and the fact that Carl was a complete pothead.

The MArks Bros and Carl would smoke prodigiously each afternoon (again, Pink Floyd's "The Wall" played over and over) and make up comical mocking names about Vanderdyke, each one longer and more absurd, fueled by the cannabis. I remember one Carl came up with: "Dudes --let's call him Zin-Van-Dyke-a Sluice-Von Tropolis!" This never failed to lead to raucous laughter among the 3, and I, trying to make sense of Inorganic Chem on the dining room table, laughed along, too.

The other thing I remember about Carl is that he always walked around with a baseball bat, a size 34 "Al Kaline" model. Carl was a huge Detroit Tigers fan. I asked him about it. "Dave --it's a dangerous world out there. A man has to protect himself from all types of evil. If attacked, I can 'Al-kaline' the aggressor. He pronounced his new verb like the opposite of acidic. I LOVED the verb. Al-kaline-ing someone...

In those days, the Swimmer/Diver's Dorm had a budding celebrity living there --Greg Louganis, who would go on to become an Olympic champion and openly gay celebrity. He came by with Carl a few times, and, when he left, Carl commented "Great athlete, but I think he likes boys. I'm cool with that, as long as he doesn't appear at my bed some night. If he does, I'll have to Al-kaline him..."

Ah, the Marks Bros. Mark T was a pre-vet student. He transferred after his sophomore year back to college in Indiana. I wonder if he made it to Vet School. MArk B and I became closer.

The Marks Bros joined the Zion Coptic Church, a group of hippies on Miami Beach who claimed weed was a sacrament. They joined to, that's right --smoke more weed. They also brought some strange girls they had met back to 22. They also started dealing some weed.

One night, I was asleep, and Mark B woke me. He had a full pillowcase full of "Jamaican sensimilla" he had received at the Coptic Church. "Dave --I'm just going to place this in the empty closet. Some angry Dudes are coming over --MArk and I have a conflict with him. They're a little rough. But don't worry --they'll never look in YOUR room."

I sat bold upright in bed, thinking about my father's reaction when he learned I was either arrested by the police for drug sales, or was an innocent bystander killed in a drug deal gone bad. This was 1980 Miami, and the drug murders were just starting to become routine...

I heard a door open, some yelling, and then the door slammed shut. It was 3 am. Mark B reappeared in my room, fetched the pillow case (it must have held 20 lbs) and said "Thanks, Dave. You're righteous!"

I politely asked him to never do that again, and, for the rest of the semester, he and Mark T complied.

But neither one had a car, and, one MArch night, as I slept with my visiting HS girlfriend, appeared again at my door with another strange request...