The jury is still out on most of the new students living in my building, but I’m already impressed by the guy who was on the elevator with his friend when I stepped on this afternoon.  He was scrolling through contacts on his phone, reading them aloud.

David… Diana… Danny… Ellen… Erica!  That was her name.  Erica.

The conversation that followed when he dialed Ms. Erica’s newfound number made clear (if it weren’t already) that he’d met her the night before, punched her number into his phone for safekeeping, and then forgot who she was until the next day.  This relationship is destined for greatness.

Now we just have to get the police in to teach the kids above me that it is inappropriate to carry on conversations from their balcony to persons on another balcony at 11:00 at night.  Last year’s students took one or two weeks to learn that.  This year’s seem to be collectively less intelligent.