The next couple chapters are going to be about my part-time life at Deborah’s college. I was there every single weekend, so much that everyone thought I actually went to school there. Truthfully, the amount of stories I have for what was basically a part-time residency is unchained. And the first story starts with this…

Freshman year of college. I didn’t go to university my first semester, but Deborah did. Her campus was predominantly Caucasian, meaning the Black crowd was small and everybody knew each other. Still, I was there so often it felt like I paid tuition right alongside them.

One weekend, it all went left. Deborah was roommates with a basketball player, and we all vibed together. She was very nice, still friends with her til this day. This night we decided to go out and smoke. Now granted, I don’t smoke anymore, but back then? Heavy. Five people in rotation, and when someone pulled out the extendo… I tapped out.

Not sure what that is? Phone a friend.

We came back to campus with two of the guys and went up to the dorm. I had one thing on my mind: my Chipotle. I grabbed it, headed for the common room, and was warming up my food when Deborah came over to me and said, “Oh my gosh… Brandon is here.”

Who’s Brandon? He was her roommate’s boyfriend… or ex… or something in between. I couldn’t keep track. I was pissed because I just wanted to eat, but I followed her back into the room. And what I walked into is a memory branded into my brain forever.

Brandon was screaming, “This is what you’re gonna do to me?!” trying to fight one of the guys we had just smoked with. I ended up holding Brandon back, begging, “Please, I just want to eat my Chipotle,” while motioning for the other dude to leave.

Here’s the kicker: Brandon had been laying on the top bunk. But it wasn’t even a real bunk setup — the bottom was a desk. Lights flipped on, and he sat straight up like the Undertaker rising from the dead, eyes locked on the scene like he’d just caught the finale of his own soap opera.

It was chaos, confusion, and comedy rolled into one. And little did I know, this was only the beginning of the ridiculousness that dorm would bring me.

It wasn’t how I pictured ending my night. I wanted Chipotle, but instead, I was holding back a full-grown man from fighting in a dorm room I didn’t even live in — with my burrito bowl sitting cold in the corner. That dorm had a way of turning the smallest moments into unforgettable stories, and trust me… this was just the first.

Because the real legend of that dorm wasn’t Brandon. It was the day a man said with his chest, “If you don’t call me daddy, I’m gonna stop.”

Now that… that’s a story worth telling.