Alexplorer Goes Time Traveling...

If you're just joining this series already in progress, then it means you don't have a time machine, so here's the short version: Every Tuesday (your present), I come back from my adventures time-traveling around MySpace and fill you in on what happened to people from my past as they keep slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future.

Ah, here's one now...


James (not his real name) lived next door to me his freshman (my sophomore) year in college when Jack and I lived together.  He was an actual Cajun.  He would come out with random utterances in Cajun French that would have the rest of us going, "Uh, what?" and he would try to explain idiomatic expressions to us with limited success.

He and Jack frequently got into it over the former's bigoted attitudes, particularly where race was concerned.  I realize a lot of this was just to push Jack's buttons since a wound-up Jack was often a hilarious spectacle.  However, I wonder just how much of James' attitudes were exaggerated considering the giant Confederate flag he hung across the length of his room.

James loved to drink, and even used to bring moonshine his relatives made back to the dorm.  If you lit a match in the room when the jar (Yes, is was in a Mason jar) was open, you would have blown out the windows.

He was pretty good at pool, so he got recruited by a team to play for their bar against others in the region.  He wouldn't start drinking heavily until the tournament was over, then would hang out at his "home" bar well after they closed, getting wasted until the early hours of the morning.  My roommate and I had trigonometry with him Tuesdays and Thursdays, so we used to wake him up and drag him to class with us still drunk.  He sat in the class alternately falling asleep then waking up and laughing at things to were only funny if you were happened to be drunk.  He made better grades than I did.

Married to the girl he started dating somewhere toward the end of his freshman year who is a couple inches taller than he was without his cowboy boots (which is likely why he wore them).  They have a couple kids.  She's an Ob/gyn; he was an EMT for a few years, but his ego couldn't take it and he's now finishing his MD with the intention of specializing in psychiatry.

Hypothetical letter I'll probably never send to him:

I realize that racism isn't classified as an illness in the DSM-IV, so given that you've never been treated for it, I'm wondering how you're going to resolve your atavistic tribal attitudes with the fact that you plan to practice in Louisiana where you will undoubtedly be asked to provide the best care possible to patients of all colors.  Please advise.

-Your surrogate conscience.

Copyright 2007 Ale[x]plorer.  All photos are of the actual individuals described above because, seriously, I can't make this shit up.
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