Excerpts From Journey of Resilience

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During the time I worked on the project, they built ten units of eight apartments each. On one occasion, when one of the units was almost completed, the electricians were getting set to turn the electricity on for the first time. I was in the upstairs hallway, sweeping the floor, right near the big red fire alarm. Suddenly, I jumped, my ears filled with a raucous “Ding!” Ding! Ding!”

I turned and looked at the alarm to see smoke coming out of it, followed by flames a minute later. Thank God for a short that immediately shut down the electricity. I asked the electrician about it later that day. Apparently, someone had hooked up the twelve-volt fire alarm to the 240 voltage. My workmate and I had a good laugh at the irony."

We drove a bit past the town to set up camp, and a few minutes later, our legs were itching. Within minutes, all eight of us tore off our pants and beat them on the Pan-American Highway, dancing on the shoulder, while ants bit our legs. We moved on to a better campsite.

After driving back to town, a nice Mexican man gave us watermelon, beer, and tequila. We drove a bit past the town to set up camp, and a few minutes later, our legs were itching. Within minutes, all eight of us tore off our pants and beat them on the Pan-American Highway, dancing on the shoulder, while ants bit our legs. We moved on to a better campsite.

I played ice hockey on fraternity teams during my seven years at RPI. When I started as a freshman, I used figure skates because that was all I had. I was faster than most but lacked control on the corners. The coach told the class not to skate like I was skating. RPI had a great hockey team, composed mostly of Canadians. One year, they made it to the semi-final playoffs in Boston Garden. My roommates came to Foxboro with me, and we rode to Boston to see the game.

The Garden didn't allow drinking for college games, so we bought a case of beer and put it in my hockey bag with a jersey on top. My mom gave us a big coffee can fill with cookies, and we put that in a paper bag, squaring it up to look like a six-pack. We huddled as I explained our entry plan. Tom would go through the ticket takers first and act suspicious with the fake six-pack under his arm. As soon as he gave them his ticket, he would bolt ahead. I would follow with my hockey bag. Everything went according to plan. They called Tom back as soon as he surged forward, asking to see what was in his bag. Security opened it up, and Tom offered them a cookie. Security didn't question me as I quietly strolled to my seat with a case of Budweiser cans. We laughed. The three of us finished the case before the game was over. Dad and Jay showed up at the game later to drive us home. We kept quiet about the beer.