A year and a half has passed since Alec Ernest set foot on campus, and in that time, we've seen him go from the cloyingly boisterous, big-haired and belligerent freshman to the slightly more subdued sophomore who, shedding his dark locks, also seemed to shed a bit of his rambunctiousness.
Yes, I think many would agree that Alec is a tamer beast these days -- thawing the hearts that once hardened against him and his surplus ruckus. But despite the reformation, there is no end to the irony of the last name, for Alec is still anything but earnest.
The first day we met, I remember sitting shotgun in his SUV as we drove around Santa Monica and wondering, "Did he just call himself a ladies man?" It seemed a stretch. My girlfriend at the time also met Alec and reported that she was surprised by his candor in discussing the women that ebb and flow throughout his life. She also added that he made a few brazen attempts at flirtation. So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when she visited Tufts six months later and, upon our returning from a night on the town, found her suitcase missing a number of delicates. And by delicates I mean thongs. Guess who shot them all over the room?
I guess the main question that comes to mind when one thinks of Alec is not who he is, but who the heck he thinks he is. He brandishes a big game. An accomplice to his big game is the classic Ernestian technique for getting attention: He says blasphemous things and sits back with a grin as he watches his listeners' faces contort with forced smiles in attempts to conceal how uncomfortable they are. Once you're used to it though, it's not half bad; entertaining, even. And I've seen it evolve: He's honed his skill into a marvelous ice-breaking social instrument. He uses it mostly around girls he is interested in. And the girls seem to like it too; they see it as a sort of fearlessness. And so does he.
"Look at the dirty things that spill from my mouth!" he seems to exclaim. "Each one a monument to my audacity! My utter distaste for the rules!"
I've got to admit, it's impressive. I've been surprised more than once by the interested fluttering of a girl's eyelashes and her slightly embarrassed rouge cheeks. Yes, some fall for it, his sort of candid crudity, for it's not without its particular charm -- a mirthful laugh and roguish look from those light blue eyes.
When asked if he had any remarks about the TUTV series "Mouthwash," Alec, who plays Travis, said, "I really didn't kiss as many girls in the show as it seems like. Everyone thinks I'm kissing mad girls, but I counted and it really was only like three." Ah yes, only three. A wee number compared to his lifetime of smooching.
Alec was one of the few students around campus this Thanksgiving weekend. When we spoke on the phone, I kind of felt like I was talking to the planet's lone survivor of a freak catastrophe: "Wanna know how many people I saw on campus on Thanksgiving? Not one," he said.
Bored out of his mind, Alec got to thinking about his priorities in life. "I have a list of things I need to do in my life," he said. "Of course, be a fireman." But number one on the list: "Become the guy that drives the horse carriage through Central Park."
As you may know, Alec is not wholly the macho troublemaker that I'm making him out to be. He has a softer side, whether he's willing to admit it or not. Heck, he told me he's still afraid of the dark. Adding, "Dude, I have a nightlight at home," as if I didn't believe him.
As an ode to our California roots, we will occasionally skateboard late at night under the glow of campus lights. I've caught glimpses of the earnest Alec, a guy who squeezes a kind of blunt honesty from us all, whether he knows it or not.
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Michael Goetzman is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at Michael.Goetzman@tufts.edu.
