October 1, 2007—The victim of a September 9 bias-related assault identified Philip Cooney (MSB ‘10) as one of his attackers on two separate instances, Lt. Alberto Jova, the commanding officer of the Gay and Lesbian Liaison Unit for the Metropolitan Police Department said on Monday.
It’s six o’clock on a Monday at Soviet Safeway and the place is packed. Sandwiched between a pretty residential street and the subdued bustle of 17th street, the undersized Dupont Circle grocery store is crawling with the neighborhood’s young professionals and older long-time residents, all there to pick up that gallon of milk, can of cat food or roll of paper towels that’s been missing from their shelves.
I never knew what to write in people’s yearbooks in high school. I wasn’t eloquent enough to state my feelings plainly and I was afraid of the alternatives: overly-sentimental messages that made me cringe or vapid goodbyes that made me question the strength of my friendships. But when my friends always finished their messages in my yearbook and could only wait for so long, I’d scribble something along the lines of “Remember the night we…” or “I could not have asked for a better roommate” and hand the bulky yearbook back, feeling fake.
It had rained the night before and, as my classmate fluidly sailed past me on the slick asphalt path, my reaction was that I had witnessed a miracle. It was my first time seeing a pair of Heelys. The first messiah had walked on water—could the second one glide inexplicably across wet pavement?
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Halfway through winter break, with all the current TV shows on a holiday hiatus, I had grown tired of dabbling in The West Wing, Seinfeld and Weeds and without an engaging television drama to amuse me, I took a desperate measure. I turned to a show that I’d promised myself to never watch: the bastard child of the soap opera and the medical show—Grey’s Anatomy.
I worked in the Senate with Mercy, a tall, pretty senior from UMass who lived for movie stars. The interns had a game inspired by Kevin Bacon’s six degrees of separation in which we’d name an actor and a movie as dissimilar as possible (try James Dean and National Treasure) and Mercy would have to connect them from memory. After two weeks of the game, it was Mercy: 46, interns: 0.