Part of Your Tuition

by westernpablues

I was the only one outside of the library smoking that night, which was unusual because the hippies were usually out there taking drags on parliament lights and camels. They discussed things like the importance of tea to a cigarette and, I assume, rock climbing and kayaking. They all went rock climbing and kayaking. The dudes made me jealous because they had beards that came in thick and full and the girls made me jealous because they were attractive and had momentum—people were interested in them.

But they weren’t around that night. It was just me under the yellow lights that illuminated the entrance to the library. I was sitting on a bench. A light snow fell on the quad in front of me. I was still kind of high from the night before. I never smoked much grass but at Slippery Rock it seemed like a certain amount of marijuana came as part of your tuition and found it’s way to you whether you wanted it or not.

After awhile this guy came out from the library and stood maybe ten feet away from me. He was a big deal on campus. At least I thought he was a big deal, because I was still under the impression that such a thing could exist at a place like Slippery Rock. He wrote for The Rocket, the student newspaper. He wore a leather jacket with studs and patches and had slicked back greaser hair. Once I read an article of his about what would happen if Zombies invaded campus.

He put a cigarette in his mouth and pulled out a lighter. He made two or three attempts to light the cigarette but he only produced sparks from the flint. Each time he flicked the lighter the sparks drew my attention and lasted longer than I knew they were supposed to.  I watched him make a couple more attempts and it felt like thirty seconds or more went by between each try.

I expected him to turn in my direction and ask for a light but he continued flicking away in vain. Finally I worked up the ambition to call over to him and said, “Hey, you need a light, man?”

He started walking in my direction, smiled and said, “Yeah, the zippo doesn’t work as well as it used to.”

I handed him my disposable lighter and he lit up on the first try. I took the lighter back, told him to have a good night and walked off towards my dorm.