Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman.
Something unnatural is happening in Room 250.
Precise rows of seats have been placed to face the lectern at the front of the room. Separately, a handful of chairs line one of the walls. This is where The Lost Boys insist on sitting for an hour and a quarter of lecture time—isolated from the rest of us. They are on familiar terms, these guys, entertaining one another with sly eye contact and non-verbals.
Because they’ve shunted themselves to the side, seats that are intended for them remain empty. The odds of a girl seating on either side of those yawning voids is near certitude.
We’re well into our second month now and the Lost Boys are still hugging the side of the room. It hasn’t occurred to even one of them that taking a seat next to a lovely young anthropology student can do wonders for a guy’s weekend.
