In the summer of 1999, I attended an orientation session for incoming Freshman at my chosen college, UMass Amherst. Unlike the majority of matriculates who came from Massachusetts high schools, I did not know a soul. But within about an hour, I befriended a couple who also hailed from the Philadelphia area: A cool, friendly girl named Deena and her boyfriend Jeff.
We soon discovered that Jeff and I were both in a program that grouped higher-achieving pre-English majors on the same residential floor and made us take some English classes together. Through this program, I eventually made many of my closest college friends, but Jeff was not to be one of them.
I made plans with Deena and Jeff to hang out in Philly before the semester started. I liked Jeff; we shared an interest in punk music, and he was an intelligent guy. The first night we hung out, they met me at the King of Prussia mall as my shift at the Coffee Beanery ended, and I convinced them to follow me in Jeff’s parent-purchased Jeep-like car to my friend’s house. When we got there about 20 minutes later, Jeff was simply livid. He accused me of taking them to the middle of nowhere without warning, and complained that he wouldn’t have enough gas money to get home. When we left my friend’s house, I followed him to a gas station and paid for his gas. Then, about a week later, I went to his grandiose house in the swanky Main Line suburbs, where it was obvious his every whim was catered to. And I paid his gas money?
When school started, we hung out together pretty frequently, but soon an unflattering impression formed, that off a pompous rich kid who got off on baseless, dogmatic arguments that were enraging to participate in. Jeff was fiercely Straight Edge and derided those who weren’t. My cigarette smoking was a constant issue for him. Personally, I thought this was hypocritical because he had a girlfriend who (I assume) he engaged in sexual relations with, consumed animal flesh with delight, and chugged numerous cans of Pepsi.
But that was besides the point. Jeff was incapable of admitting fault and spewed his views on everything with a closed mind. Gradually, I grew apart from Jeff. The exact details are hazy. By Senior year, we were on polite speaking terms if we should run into each other, but there was always sort of an undercurrent of mutual hatred. Jeff went onto Grad school in California and we never spoke again.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, through a college friend I come to learn that Jeff is the new lead singer of one of the greatest punk bands ever: The Dead Kennedys.
And the screaming in my ears has not stopped since.
