People in the hall between McMahon and Lowenstein are staring and whispering. So juvenile. No one is making eye contact with me, but no one ever makes eye contact with me. These people have always been intimidated by the way I look. My suits aren’t the typical college apparel, but why dress like a typical college student when you could take an interest in the way you look? It’s called professionalism. I’m not sure what everyone is freaking out about, anyways. That disgusting girl was absolutely asking for it. And her repulsive boyfriend. People are saying that I was flirting with her. As if I would be interested in a Communications major. I’m pre-law. She was rude, and she was in my way, and she nearly spilled her drink on my blue silk cravat.  Women are always asking to be treated equally, so it is entirely beyond me why these people are now so scandalized that a woman was treated like a man. Sometimes a person needs to be put in their place, and I have never been afraid to do what others are too weak to accomplish. As far as what happened after I left the bar, I was doing the legally responsible thing. Those minors should not have been admitted, much less have been served alcohol. It’s like I’m the only one at this school who understands how to be an adult. It’s not like anyone will remember this after a few days. It’s not like I’ll become part of the lore of Fordham or anything. A boy leans towards his friend’s ear as I pass. So immature. I straighten my tie and grasp the handle of my attaché. I’m late for mock trial.