Since this story made Erin snort, I thought I’d post it...
In the fall of 1995, after only one year, I gave up a four year FREE RIDE scholarship to the theatre department at EIU and I moved to London. All by myself. Not through an exchange program. Just found a school, packed my bags and went. I had my own apartment off campus and an inheritance from my dad that, if he were alive today, would probably make me pay back every cent of when he found out what it went towards... but I was set. I loved it there, for sure. I’d move back in a heart beat. I met some of my best friends there- (Shout out to Milo) I loved it. It was definitely the best time of my life so far.
The thing about me at that time...I was...to put it bluntly...a blind, stupid, gluttonous, uneducated pig-whore of an alcoholic who constantly ditched class to go shopping in Knightsbridge or to catch a plane to another part of Europe. But I thought I was sooo cool and sooo worldly. Which was such a great way to be, given that the school I decided to go to was an international university full of people from every country of the world (I had never heard of Malta before I went, but would end up flying there for a wedding 8 years later. Cool.). This also meant that there were many different religions being practiced. Even then I did not pay attention because I’m an American and we never gave these things a second thought before September 11th when we all of a sudden woke up and discovered that there really are other people in the world who don’t think we’re as great as we do.
Anyway, after about 3 seconds of being there, I started dating the "big man on campus" which, in this world, was a 6’ 3" Indian dude named Rajeev who was the president of the student council and who was kept in Armani and a Jaguar by his family, who owned one of only 2 alcohol distribution companies in the middle east and just about all the duty free shops in UAE. I was 19. This, for some reason, was attractive to me, I guess. I still have the gold necklace of Nefertiti that he brought back for me. Really, the only good thing that came out of the "relationship".
OK- exposition over...here’s the story...
Rajeev was an RA. An RA who liked cologne. I mean really really liked it. Because he was an RA he had this huge room to himself with all these book shelves. He didn’t store books up there, oh no- he stored cologne. He probably had 50 bottles. No joke. And they were all shapes and sizes.
Well, one day I was bored yet feeling incredibly manic, so I decided to smell all the cologne. So I started into them, ripping the tops off, snorting em and putting them back. One right after the other. Rip top off, sniff, make a face of approval or horror, throw top back on and move on to next bottle.
About half way through, I get to a shiny bluish bottle shaped like an elephant and I try to open it by, what I thought was the most appropriate way, ripping its head off. But it wouldn’t budge or turn or anything. I was so frustrated. I tried cracking it open as many ways as I could. Finally I held it up and asked Rajeev, who I’m sure was probably looking at himself in the mirror, because I think it’s what he majored in,
"What kind of cologne is this?"
and he replied,
"That’s not a cologne. That’s my God."
And the ashamed young American very carefully puts the elephant God back on the shelf. Polishing it on its way up and whispers,
"Sorry".
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