I got so city girl on you.

Ah, back in school.

There's a group of college-age children sitting across from me.
There's a girl experiencing some sort of sickness, nervous breakdown or some sort of personal drama that is causing her to be all sad and angsty.
There's her boyfriend; I know he is her boyfriend because she has her head on his lap and he's stroking her back, speaking in a disgusting baby voice that I'm sure he thinks it's comforting and saying things like, "Do you need any water? Are you tired? Do you want some juice? Are you sure you're all right? Do you want get you something to eat?"
The boyfriend and the girlfriend have basically the same haircut except his is yellow-blond like mustard and hers is crunchy-leaf brown with mustard yellow highlights.
We also have the third wheel, he keeps trying to strike up conversation with the couple but is failing miserably and always reduces himself to sitting on the end staring in the opposite direction.
"Can't you see I'm enabling the over dramatic and ridiculous behavior of my girlfriend?! Damn it, Kevin. Go sit over there."

The guy across from me has been staring at me since I sat down. He's giving me the same look Dave the Cafe Guy gives every woman who unwittingly places herself next to him.
It's a predatory look, but it's the look of a predator who hasn't eaten in an extremely long amount of time because his hunting skills are poor so he is dying of starvation and is willing to eat every piece of trash that he finds on the street.
It's hunger. It's an emaciated mountain lion look.
This is the book he's pretending to read.

A while ago, the boyfriend left with his razor scooter to go get food and the girlfriend fell asleep under her sparkling, electric-green blanket that looks like a bathroom rug and the third wheel fell asleep on the floor.
The girlfriend kicked her bookbag that was sitting on the end of the couch in her sleep and it came crashing to the floor with a loud thump.
The crashing noise startled the girlfriend and she woke up violently, making a sort of snorting-inhaling-grunting-gasping noise that made me accidentally "lol" to myself.
Luckily, she was too delirious to notice what I had done and just rolled over and went back to sleep.
Then, a large group of Asian tourists came through the room and more than one of them stopped to take picture of the two sleeping.

When the boyfriend returned, he yelled at the third wheel--after careful eavesdropping of their conversation I have discovered his name is Pedro--for allowing the girlfriend to roll over on her stomach because, wouldn't you know it? She's pregnant.
That's nice; I'm glad I have the privilege of witnessing the future of America panning out right here in front of me.

If nothing else, college is allowing my people-watching to flourish and is giving me a head start toward a degree in modern social anthropology.

What's the point of leaving your room if you're just going to sleep in Smith Hall all day anyway?