A very angry man (or how I learned to stop worrying and love people who watch people take other people's clothes out of the trash)

I was sitting in the computer lab at my dorm with my back facing the doorway when I hear a guy suddenly start yelling at me: "No way, no way!" Being the epitome of cool that I am, I slowly pivot around in my swivel chair to see what the ruckus is all about. This guy was starting right at me, mouth agape, looking absolutely stupefied and mortified. After sputtering and stammering for a moment, he managed to tell me that he had a very mean ex-boss with a shaved head, and he had mistaken me for him. The best part? He used to work at a camp, presumably for children. Who knew there was so much drama at Camp Happyland or wherever he worked? I think I'll double check the lock on my door before I go to sleep tonight .

With that crisis narrowly averted, the guy sat down at a nearby desk and chatted with a few of us in the lab. I quickly realize this man harbors a great deal of anger, hidden under a thin veneer of nonchalance. One girl borrowed a pen from him, and he very pointedly made sure she knew that he needed his pen back. Later he told me that he thought anyone who ordered Miller Lite while in London was making an insult to all Brits and Irish, and should summarily be physically assaulted by said nationals. While I admire his vigor in promoting native beers while in the UK, given the long history of hooliganism in Ireland and England, I think his advocacy of pub violence is misguided. And finally, after being out of the room for about 30 minutes, he came back and started swearing up a blue storm, threatening to tear it out of the wall, after he had trouble with a payphone in the dorms.

All in all, I started to become quite worried about this very troubled, albeit young, man. Please God, in your infinite mercy, do not allow this man to be led down the destructive path of anger. Once down the dark path you start, forever will it dominate your destiny. Do not let Satan fill him with anger over pens, Miller (lite or otherwise), or youth camps. Amen.

A few minutes later, some lady ran into the lab in quite a lather and yelled out to nobody in particular, "Is Heather here? There is some lady across the street picking other people's clothes out of the trash! Seriously, she is taking clothes out of the trash!" Wow, you mean you actually saw a homeless person go through the trash?! In London, a city of almost 8 million people?! What are the chances on that one!

Despite the fact that I wanted to be a garbageman when I was seven, I had a little trouble understanding why anyone would be agog over the prospect of seeing someone pick through rubbish. Perhaps she is distantly related to Oscar the Grouch, and a deep-seated love of garbage runs in her veins. Yes, that must be it.