On the day I arrived at college for my freshman orientation (many moons ago) I promptly unpacked my clothes, set up my stereo, positioned a photo of my girlfriend next to my bed, and arranged my school supplies in an orderly fashion around my desk. My new roommate arrived just as I was finishing. Up until that moment I had only known his name and home address, information the college supplied in case the two strangers they were shoving together had any interest in speaking prior to the first day of school (neither one of us did).
His name was as apple pie as the face that walked up and shook my hand. Standing no taller than 5 foot 6 inches and sporting a boy-band haircut, my new roommate was the definition of unassuming. This didnt bother me and, in fact, left me somewhat relieved. I had prepared myself for the worst, thinking that the guy I ended up rooming with would probably be a sociopath. I sensed his relief as well, figuring he undoubtedly harbored the same initial fears.
After talking briefly we both concluded that things were off to an acceptable start and that this whole living together experiment might just work out. At this point my new roommate did something I have never forgotten. Instead of unpacking his clothes or arranging his desk, he hastily dug through his belongings before finally pulling out a long cardboard tube. After extracting the rolled up poster from inside, he then carefully adhered a full-sized movie print of Marlon Brando from The Godfather to our door.
I watched as he methodically lined tape around all four edges, leaving no room for foreign fingers to pry the poster off. When he finished he stood back and admired his work. Perfect, he said as he gently closed the door. That poster is going to work wonders for us.