Editor’s note: The following is a continuing journal of a fictional college student. It is intended to be a humorous and enjoyable feature about an average Joe. Though written by Iowa State’s own Scott Jacobson, a Daily staff writer, people, places and events detailed below are not analogous to a real student.

January 14, 2000

So there I was, admiring a pair of dishpan hands that can only come from six hours in a heart-shaped hot tub, when I looked to either side of me and saw that Walt and Eddie were just as soaked and shriveled as me.

Their hands, that is.

I don’t know if it can be blamed on the phantom Y2K bug or if we were just plain lucky, but somehow my boys and I ended up spending New Year’s Eve in a honeymoon suite in Des Moines.

Of course, there was a hitch.

It was boys’ night out.

Through several awkward twists of fate, we all ended up without dates for the millennium magic and that’s how it came to pass that six of us squeezed into a heart-shaped hot tub with several bottles of champagne and a case of Old Milwaukee.

It was an Old Mil commercial just waiting to happen.

How did this bachelor bash come to be? Simple.

Walt’s wife had to work. Carl’s new girlfriend decided she had found a new boyfriend. And it wasn’t Carl.

Pablo was hoping in vain to hook up with someone at the hotel while Eddie just gave up looking for a date after three weeks of solid rejection around Campustown.

Even Chet was flying solo for the celebration as Sydney was on vacation with her family in Europe over break. Earlier, we had figured out she was enjoying the hoopla in London right about the time that we were cranking up the bubbles so we made sure to raise our glasses to the dawn of the new year in England.

We made another toast around 11 p.m. that night in honor of Taylor’s festivities.

She was back in Atlanta over break working with the company she had spent the summer with and she didn’t get any days off for the holiday. Now I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate quality time with five other guys in a heart-shaped hot tub, but I was hoping for a kiss on New Year’s Eve from someone other than Eddie.

The smooch from Eddie seemed almost pleasant, however, compared to the news flash I was faced with one week into 2000.

The folks that Taylor worked with over break were so impressed with her energy and enthusiasm for the job that they offered her a full-time opportunity at a salary that would make a pro basketball player jealous. Well, not a really good pro basketball player, but it was impressive nonetheless.

Again, there was a hitch.

She starts the job Monday.

It’s the opportunity of a lifetime and though I hate to think of her being several states away frightened by the idea that everyone down there might be like John Rocker, I can’t imagine her passing it up.

When she asked what I thought, I insisted it was the right thing to do. I told her I wanted her to take it. Maybe I was lying a little, but I just want what’s best for her.

I figure, it’s kind of like the end of “Shakespeare in Love,” where the two people know they belong together, but the situation just won’t allow it to happen. Well, it’s just like that except for the part about her dressing up like a guy and me pretending to be a chamber maid. And I guess there wasn’t a shotgun wedding, a queen or a shipwreck. Come to think of it, maybe it’s not like the movie at all.

Regardless, I’ve been helping her pack and as I her watch her empty her apartment, I can’t help but be optimistic that everything will work out in the end.

After all, if this year’s Chicago Bulls can win three games in a row, anything seems possible.