The Three Musketeers

Even though there is a stereotypical TACer, that does not negate the wide diversity of personalities that one encounters there. Even if they are not eccentric, you can have rather odd relationships with them. One prime example of this is the interaction between me, Nathan, and Conor. Mr. Dragoo, our latin tutor this past year, called us the "three Musketeers." He called us a few other things, too, but that's the nicest one ;-)

Nathan and Conor by themselves are a hilariously amusing dynamic duo. They go everywhere together, say and do ridiculous things, and are rather cynical - or as they prefer, realistic. The three of us in combination were a strange combination. My joyous optimism, which they pegged as naivete, was in a constant opposition to their life-view. I called Mr. Berquist a "cute old man"; their response was to look at me incredulously and pull out the dictionary and look up "cute." They liked to prove me wrong. In nine months, I think we all three of us learned things from the other. I learned to temper my happiness and they learned to not squash every little blossom of hopeful happiness they encountered. We argued and we will continue to do so, but I can honestly say that they are two of the kindest and most caring guys I know.

I sometimes wondered whether or not they considered me as a friend. Sure, we hung out together sometimes and had interesting conversations much of the time, but I wondered if they were being authentically friendly or if I was their charity project; perhaps talking to me was their one good deed for the day. I came to learn through various circumstances that it was the former.

One instance of their extraordinary was one particular afternoon wherein my knee was hurting an incredible amount. My kneecaps tend to slide off sideways, which causes both pain and instability. After lab class, I could barely stand, let alone walk. Nathan and Conor expressed concern about it, but I shrugged it off, promising to only walk the necessary places. I hobbled out, my knee buckling every step. I managed to get through the commons and to the mail room where I clocked in for work. I walk out of the mail room and almost ran into Conor. He was holding a banana (why I remember that little detail, I don't know) and Nathan had a wheelchair.
"Get in." he said
"Oh, come on, Nathan, I don't need a wheelchair."
"Yes, you do. Get in. Now."
"Nathan, really..."
"Stop being an idiot, Bridget. You're getting in whether you like it or not."
"What are you going to do, force me?"
("Not a bad idea" mumbled Conor)
"Bridget, please."
Alright, I thought. Fine. I was embarrassed 1) because I had to ride in a wheelchair and 2) that Nathan and Conor were being so insistent. I hobbled over and got in. "Thanks, guys."
We started wheeling out. Nathan says to Conor, "After we drop her off at work, I want a ride." Conor rolled his eyes, but didn't disagree. I, trying to negate some of the humiliation I was experiencing, started waving at people we passed.
"Stop it."
"Why?"
"Do you think you're the only one who's embarrassed here?"
Oh, right. I hadn't thought about that. I guess it could be rather embarrassing to be pushing me around campus in a wheelchair, especially with me waving like an idiot. Then someone across campus waved at me. I waved back.
"Seriously, Bridget, next time you do that I'm going to run you into a wall."
I laughed. "Yes, that would be taking care of me stupendously." I looked up at him and grinned.
Nathan and Conor then started complaining about me to each other. This is a favorite tactic of theirs when I become too illogical or aggravating to deal with directly. ("Why does she do that?" "I don't know, maybe because she's a girl." "I guess they do silly things sometimes." "Good thing we never do.") This is never meant seriously or insultingly, but they're trying to get me to see their point. I usually do.

They are both great guys who are good friends to me. Seeing me every day in class, they came to see how physically breakable I am. All of our section did, for that matter. One day I was limping as I went to collect my math test from her and she asked if I was okay. Nathan replied, "Never ask her if she's okay. The answer is never 'yes,' but only varying degrees of not okay." But we came to understand each other pretty well, even when others couldn't. Mr. Augros called me the translator of Nathan-and-Conor-speak. They did the same for me, but since it was less frequent, it was less noticeable to him.

I'm going to miss having those two in section next year... :-)