Dave

Not sure why, but I was reminded of him today.

In my freshman year of college, I knew a guy named Dave. When school let out for the summer, I stuck around for summer school. He was from there and happened to know the friend I was staying with for a few weeks. We went out a few times, but the most memorable evening was not what I would call a date.

Dave was a pretty talented artist. His portfolio consisted mainly of snapshots of his work, which turned out to be mostly graffiti. One night he asked if I wanted to go with him and another friend. It was pretty much as you'd imagine, the three of us dressed in black, Dave with a backpack full of supplies. Andy's job was to listen for police cruisers while Dave worked. After a few amateur attempts, I just hung back and watched. He really was amazing.

He showed me some other stuff he had done too, in a studio on campus. It was traditional painting, and it was also very good. Then I found out that he didn't really have access to the building, but had been climbing in through the window.

After I moved into an apartment, I didn't see him any more. But later that summer, someone caused an explosion in the art building. I worked in the PR office, so we were responsible for making some kind of statement about the situation. When I found out Dave had been arrested, I let slip that I knew him. My bosses wanted to know if I would like to make a statement, but I did not.

I wasn't really surprised that Dave had been trying to make a pipe bomb that accidentally exploded. But I was mad that someone with that much talent wasn't using it better. I would have given anything to have half the talent he had. I would try looking him up, but a) I can't remember his last name, and b) I suspect he doesn't want to be found.