Each autumn, before a single class is held, all University of Chicago freshmen spend an entire week in orientation. I passed much of the first day standing in line. At the front of one long line, a smiling upperclassman handed me a canvas bag. Inside the bag were pencils and coupons and class schedules and the like, a silver whistle to blow in case you were attacked, and information on the fabulous jobs we could all expect upon graduation.
I noticed Axel the first day of orientation. He didn’t look like anyone from my high school, or for that matter anyone else at college. He wore a tattered wool three-piece suit and leather-soled shoes. He also carried a guitar. Later, in my sophomore German class, I saw a photo of a traveling carpenter who looked like Axel. Since he himself was of German descent, I suspect his resemblance to a Zimmermangeselle was not accidental. But I never had the chance to ask him. By sophomore year, he was gone.
He looked up at me.
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In addition to swimming, the University of Chicago also tested every student’s physical fitness. During orientation week all freshmen gathered in the gymnasium for an afternoon of running, stretching, and sit-ups. Each of these exercises was graded, and the combined score supposedly revealed your total level of fitness. Then, depending upon your score, the gym coach assigned you between zero and three quarters of physical education. One quarter was the best deal. That quarter could be spent ballroom dancing, and the ballroom dance class was filled with girls. This made it the unathletic boy’s best chance of finding a date.
At the end of the day, Axel and I left the gym together. He retrieved his bottle of grape soda from behind the bush and took a long drink. Then he lit a cigarette, and together we headed back toward the dorm. Again, we talked bad about the test, but we also discussed books. Axel mumbled a lot, so I didn’t catch everything he said.
Soon after our walk to the lake, I started to plagiarize Axel’s look. I began by buying a felt fedora. He actually wore derbies, but the difference was lost on me. I took to wearing the fedora while shooting pool in our dorm lounge, and then, confusing romantic notions of poker and pocket billiards, I matched my new hat with a pair of sunglasses so no one could see my eyes.
Axel seemed to have some friends in the dorm, but most students didn’t really like him. He didn’t have much use for them and I suspect not a whole lot of use for me. As the quarter moved on we spoke less and less, and finally, one night I gave up on him. It happened in the hallway outside my dorm room. I was sitting on the floor and talking to my neighbor when Axel got off the elevator and came down the hall. I said hello, but he was too drunk to notice. He stepped over my legs, shouted to himself, and ripped a message board off my neighbor’s door. Then, honest to God, he kicked his heels. As he walked away, my neighbor looked down and scratched her head.
