22 February 1998
Joe and I didn't try very hard to blend in when we attended McHenry County College. I was a flunkout from Northern Illinois University and Joe was a freshman whose friends had all gone to four-year schools. We both fancied ourselves way too cool to be there, and we behaved as such.
Everyone we encountered was given a name. The 40-ish woman in our Spanish class who sat in the front row and participated enthusiastically was Mommy. The silent, homely girl in our advertising class who wore floods and tennis shoes and earrings shaped like the Hang Ten logo was named Foot. The blonde who sat near us in Spanish was named Tone after her place of employment (which we overheard as we eavesdropped)--Tone 'N Tan. We were surrounded by a sea of ninnies; we felt detached and smug.
The way we clung together belied our haughty attitude. On Mondays Joe and I both started class at 10:00 a.m. When I finished at 5:00, I had to accompany Joe to dinner in the MCC cafeteria before I could go home so that Joe wouldn't have to go to his 6:00 class hungry. It was only in November that we even began frequenting the cafeteria at all. For two months we ate our brown-bag lunches in my car as we drove up and down highway 14, afraid to be seen among the population of a rural community college. We sat together in "safe" areas in the hallway, away from the common lounge. When one of us went to the bathroom, the other waited outside the door.
By May we smelled freedom and began to care less and less what people thought of us. We began to chat people up in class, asking what college they would be transferring to or what they planned to study. We hung out in the cafeteria between classes instead of hiding in obscure hallways. We felt ready to embrace the community, but wondered...would they have us?
One morning when Joe came to pick me up, we discovered that we were both wearing identical outfits--jeans from the Gap and orange polos, also from the Gap, with white t-shirts underneath.
"I'm not changing," I announced.
"Well, I'm not changing, either," Joe said.
We stood looking at each other. "Do you still have your green Izod windbreaker?" I asked.
"Oh no...we can't...we'll look like dorks...oh my God, you're going to make us, aren't you..."
Without responding, I dashed into my room and emerged, pulling my green Izod windbreader over my head. "Let's go."
After a quick trip back to Joe's house, we entered the doors of MCC, dressed in the same exact outfit. I am 5'10, Joe is an athletic 5'7. We looked like complete idiots.
The reaction we received was gratifying. People, used to seeing us attached at the hip for 9 months, smiled and pointed. "Allright!" they said. "Nice duds!"
"Hey! Amy and Joe! It's about time you started dressing alike!"
We strutted proudly off to the cafeteria. We felt communal love for the first time.