A Bad Idea I'm About to Do by Chris Gethard

Author:Chris Gethard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Published: 2011-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

Nemesis

As a tried-and-true nerd, I’ve always suspected that finding one’s nemesis was just another step in the process of becoming a man. You grow hair on your body, your voice changes, and you find your ideological counterpart to stand in stark juxtaposition to, highlighting your own heroic tendencies in the process.

Spider-Man had the Green Goblin. Hulk Hogan had King Kong Bundy. And I had Nick Forman. As with nearly every other aspect of puberty, I didn’t discover my nemesis until I was in college.

I didn’t learn much of anything during my time at Rutgers. I was an American Studies major. I signed up for it because my only goal was to graduate while doing as little work as possible. American Studies was great because most of the class titles could conceivably end in an exclamation point. “Urban Adventure!,” “P.T. Barnum!,” and “Murder in America!” were just a few of the notables from my transcript.

One summer class I took was titled “The Cowboy in Fiction and Film!” We watched a movie during each class, one of them being Shanghai Noon starring Owen Wilson and Jackie Chan. I didn’t read any of the books. Each week I’d put my head down and fall sound asleep immediately once class began.

But one day a discussion about a book titled The Virginian was keeping me awake. The professor was describing a scene involving a chicken sitting on a rock after its egg had been taken from its nest. He asked the class about the symbolism behind the chicken’s behavior. I hadn’t read the book, but the conversation was annoying enough to interrupt my slumber, so I took action.

“Chris?” the professor asked when I raised my hand. It’s always a sign that you’ve slacked off when a teacher calls on you in question form.

“Yeah,” I said, wiping sleep from my eyes. “Here’s the thing. Even though it was just a chicken it lived life and, therefore, had dreams. That egg represented its dreams.”

Everyone stared at me. For the majority, it was the first time they had heard me speak.

“When the egg was taken away, the chicken sat on a rock,” I continued. “Why? Because even though it knew its dreams wouldn’t come true, it still had to chase them.”

I squinted and melodramatically gazed out the window.

“It’s something all of us would be well served to learn,” I said. “Achieving your dreams is not always the most important part of life; having dreams is.”

“Exactly,” the professor said. He smiled at me.

With that, I dropped my head down on my desk and fell right back asleep.

The only downside to my major was that it required me to take two real classes through the history department. I took mine with a feisty Southern professor named George Kayne. To this day, he’s the only person I’ve ever seen manage to look tough while wearing a sweater vest.

“If you ever have to take a history class,” my friend Sean Gorman told me at the beginning of freshman year, “take it with George Kayne.

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