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. It runs weekly, on Fridays. 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.

October 23, 1998

So there I was, decked out in my favorite rayon shirt, walking down the sidewalk with Eddie’s cousin Chet, when he assures me that I’m going to have a good time on my blind date.

I asked him if he’d actually ever met this girl.

Not really, he replies, but Sydney said that she’s really nice.

Nice. Now there’s an adjective that can mean so much and yet say so little.

My sixth-grade teacher was nice. I dressed up nice every week for Sunday School until they told me not to bother coming anymore.

When I told my mom that I had gotten our station wagon stuck in a muddy cornfield when I was 16, but she wasn’t really listening because Cricket and her thought-to-be-dead boyfriend were having a fight on “As the World Turns,” all she said was, “That’s nice.”

I was always told to be nice, play nice and smell nice while doing a nice job working on my homework with my nice neighbor girl.

So I have a real hard time putting my finger on a definition for nice.

But hey, if Chet’s girlfriend says she’s nice, so be it.

When we got to People’s, we saw Sydney right away. Her face lit up like a DPS parking truck and she gave each of us a big hug.

Chet and I proceeded to buy a couple drinks and a couple for the girls and a quick shot of McGillicuddy’s for good measure and then we made our way to the table Syd had saved.

It was then that I was introduced to the lady I would be keeping company for the next few hours.

I didn’t quite catch her name the first time as some guy from my art history class yelled something in my ear just as she and I were shaking hands, but I didn’t think much about it at the time.

This girl was smoking. Not smoking like nicotine, cancer stick, kiss-my-ashtray, puff-puff-wheeze wheeze-I’ll-just-have-one-more-if you-please type of smoking. I’m talking hot stuff, simply en fuego, somebody-call-a-doctor-or-I’ll-be dead-by-morning type of smoking.

And she liked my rayon shirt. She even felt it. Mmm … rayon.

So there I was, having an amazing conversation with this goddess of beauty and brains, debating the finer points of “Swingers” as she occasionally caressed my rayon sleeve when I realized that I’m on a blind date and I’m loving it.

It goes against all things logical.

She’s not supposed to be attractive, intelligent, interesting — and single. It doesn’t happen. Well, at least it doesn’t happen to me.

But I guess if Ponch and Jon can make a comeback and return to cable in their new show “CHiPs 99,” then anything is possible.

The rest of the night unfolded perfectly. We talked. We laughed. We danced. I sang. She laughed. I tried not to take it personally. Things were good.

When Dazy Head Mazy finished up their show, I offered to walk her home, but she had her car parked down the block.

So I walked with her to her car — excuse me, Jeep Cherokee — and asked her if she’d like to do this again sometime. She agreed and asked me to call her. I said that I didn’t want to wait to call and asked if she wanted to go out Friday night.

Then she got one of those looks.

She said she already had plans with her friends to see The Nadas Friday night and she couldn’t back out.

“That’s cool,” I said. “That’s actually what I was going to ask you to do. So I’ll just see you there.” Hi there, I’m a stalker.

Luckily she grinned and nodded. Oh, her smile. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, told me to call her and hopped into her Cherokee and disappeared in the horizon.

What a woman.

So now I’ve got a pseudo-date for tonight, which is a helluva lot better than a blind date.

I already know that she’s not only nice, but she’s smart, funny, good-looking, likes live music and rayon and loves “Swingers” and she wants to see me again.

Now if only I would have been listening when she introduced herself.