While a few incidents directly led to this status, I like to think the real reason was because I was a cocky young kid and my scholarship hall director was a cocky ex-Marine sergeant named Judd. We were bound to clash.
The first incident occurred not too long into that fall. Somehow, the entire hall ended up drinking beers and smoking in our closet-sized room that sat directly above the main entrance.
Our hall was very small and everybody heard everything. (If you shacked up with a girl, you were sure to hear about it the next day, as we were forced to hear it the night before).
As I watched my Dutch roommate Jan stumble around the room, shouting over the stereo, I knew we were doomed. I kicked everyone out and followed them. A huge cloud of smoke poured out into the hallway into the face of an awaiting Judd. I said hello as though nothing was wrong and fled outside, free for the rest of the night at least.
In the morning I went to see him first, hoping my honesty would help soften the blow.
Strike one. I was sentenced to do the dishes for the whole hall for what would turn out to be the rest of the year.
Strike two was for leaving beer in my fridge over Christmas break. Judd had promised he wouldn't open fridges, but said mine had been "leaking." More dishes. And a meeting with the residence halls director.
Strike three was the most absurd of all: food theft. A ton of pizzas were delivered for dinner one night and as a joke, I ran off with one and hid it in the closet. I was honestly only trying to be comical - and yes, I realize now the lack of humor in the stunt - and needless to say, Judd was not amused.
"If we were in the Marines, I'd make you do push-ups `til you puke."
