By Aussielthrbiker

It was my first year at university. I had moved out of my parents and into a dorm and had picked up a part time job in a department store downtown. Dorm life was great fun but our dorm was pretty quiet – it had a reputation for being the dorm you lived in if you actually wanted to study. My part time job was also great fun; I worked three shifts a week in the “Young Men’s” department. Two were all day shifts when I worked alongside the permanent employees, who were around my age and a fun bunch. However, my favourite shift of the week was Thursday evenings. On Thursdays I worked with Brad, who was another university student. He was in his second year at another university. He was around my height and build, ie, 5’11” and slim. He had blue eyes and short curly blond hair. After the store closed, we would have dinner together at the burger joint across the road before catching our respective buses. Brad would often tell me about life in his dorm, which sounded a lot more active than mine. In particular, he would recount in some detail the hazing, which usually involved one of the guys (sometimes him) being tied and gagged. I would listen intently to his stories wishing this would take place at my dorm. I made this comment to Brad a couple of times.

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