Mid-February, 2009–As odd as this may seem, one of my favorite places on campus is the front porch of my Buc Ridge apartment. Buc Ridge is a student apartment complex with 15, two- or four- bedroom buildings up the hill, on Buccaneer Ridge Drive, from the main activities of campus. All the buildings are a drab gray color and three stories high.

When it was warmer I loved to bring my little, black, plastic, computer chair outside on the porch with homework or a book, prop my feet up on the rail, and enjoy the fresh air and the feeling of the afternoon sun warming my face.

Buc Ridge apartments are set up in a circle so most buildings face each other. My first floor, two- bedroom apartment faces into the middle of the circle, and this provides a great view of the bus stop bustling setting. 

Many athletes from the soccer, basketball and track teams live in the buildings around me, and they always seem to be on the move, either going to or coming from practice or a game. The Buc Shot, a bus that takes students to and from campus, has a stop just to the right of my porch and runs on a 15-minute schedule. 

On one particularly warm day in early February, I was back in my place in the black, plastic computer chair on the porch. I was working on some homework on my laptop when the seven-foot tall basketball player walks by to wait on the Buc Shot. He lives in the building to my left, so I can watch him walk across the parking lot to the bus stop.

It is interesting for me, a guy of average height, to watch him walk with his long stride and enormous shoes. I can’t help wondering what it would be like to look down to talk to someone, or to have to duck your head to get through doors.

A little later I see my friend returning from one of his many excursions. He gets out of his silver GMC Envoy, and because he lives directly above me, he stops by and says hey. We talk for a while and he eventually makes his way up to his apartment.

I enjoy being around this guy. He is a socialite and is always doing something or seeing someone. That makes for some great stories and I really enjoy listening to him retell them. He seems to know everyone on campus, but most times he can’t remember who he is talking to. I feel bad for the person’s name he can’t remember when he tells the story, but in a weird way it makes me feel special because he knows my name and wants to see what I’m up to that day.