They call me Iceman. And by ‘they’… I mean everybody.

Monday, January 26th.

6:45am. Boy I woke up in a shitty mood.  Some nights I’ve been sleeping really well here. Last night wasn’t one of them. I’ve been here for 10 days, and sometimes I don’t know if I can make it much longer. It’s not just the no sugar, no caffiene, no salt, no tv, no radio, no freaking newspapers, rules. I got used to those a long time ago. I no longer waste my time on childish pursuits. I’m over things the old me used to enjoy… like talking to girls, or going outside. Things of the past. Okay. I’ll stop there or it’s going to be a long day. Besides, it’s not like I won’t get two dozen other opportunities to share my feelings today. They’re not big on you keeping your feelings to yourself around here. Just try it… see what happens.

9:15am. Western omelette, hash browns and toast for breakfast. Lunch is roast pork, mashed potatoes and stuffing. Man, I’m going to gain a hundred pounds. I had been planning on walking out of here looking fit. A picture of health. Now people are going to wonder if I went to a fat farm. Or when I’m leaving. What can I tell you? When you’re robbed completely of all other vices and food’s all you’ve got… You make the most of it. Did I eat the extra pudding? …DID I EAT THE EXTRA PUDDING?! YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I DID!!!! God, I think I’m finally losing my mind. The food really is excellent and we have a lot of laughs during meals. It’s one of the few times we get to cut loose a little bit. 

Most of the guys have nicknames. There are currently four Dave’s residing here, so it makes it easier. There’s Mexican Dave, who is actually Peurto Rican. His nickname is Pedro. Preppy Dave used to play on the PGA Tour, and dresses like he’s still out there. Chainsaw Dave was travelling for work once, and got so fed up with a loud neighbor that he got the chainsaw out of his truck and cut a hole in the hotel room wall. Big enough to walk through. I swear to God. And there’s Asshole Dave, because well… he’s an asshole. The other day I mentioned Donnie Osmond and Johnny Guns. Two more nicknames I handed out personally. Donnie’s one of my better friends here. I tried to label him Osmond right off the bat, but he got wind of it and lobbied hard for Donnie Brasco. Can’t blame him, I guess. I still call him Osmond, though. Or just Marie. Johnny Guns got his nickname because, despite being a really good guy, walks around with the sleeves rolled up on his tee shirts. Started out as ‘Gun Show’, turned into Johnny Guns.

The day he got that name, strangely enough, was the same day I found out I already had a nickname, myself. Turns out I’ve had one for some time, actually, and I’m still a little pissed off about that. I’m going to give you this little exchange verbatim, because I still find it a bit confusing. It was the second or third day, and John came walking into lecture ten minutes late. So I said, “You’re late.” And He said, “Yeah, whatever.” Then I said, “Yeah, okay Gun Show!” And everybody laughed. Then Mexican Dave said, “Good one, Shrek!” And everybody laughed again. …Then I turned around and said, “That’s awesome! …Who are we calling Shrek?” And nobody said anything.      For a long time.     Are you kidding me? Shrek?! I”M SHREK??? How do you figure? Let me tell you something, when it comes to nicknames, I’m all set. Got one. It’s Iceman. Has been for years. My last name’s Eischen, so it’s kind of a no-brainer. Eischen… Iceman.

1:45pm. I can’t belie—Are you kidding me? Shrek? I’m Iceman, for the love of… I don’t even know what they’re trying to say. I few brave and well meaning villagers tried to tell me it was meant to be a compliment. Because I’m a big guy… but I’m a sweetheart when you get to know me. Great. Awesome. This sucks. I don’t want to be Shrek. And if you people think I can’t promote my own cool nickname, maybe you’ve never seen the cover (front and back) of my parents’ 1984-1988 Yellow Pages. Yeah. One wouldn’t have to conduct much of a search to figure out whose kitchen they were standing in, I’ll tell you that much. Mine, that’s who. St. Michaels CYO Hoops. JV Red Team. #30 ICEMAN. Those books were covered. Along with the ’chore board’ on the fridge and any other flat surface left lying around. ICEMAAAAAN!   I’m so pissed.

9:30pm. Alright, to be honest with you, Iceman never really took. At any age. I think they called my brother Iceman a little bit, so I let people know they could call me that too if they were so inclined. I told them this often. I don’t know why I couldn’t get people to at least try it… Did I already mention the Eischen–Iceman connection? Seems so obvious. So, maybe I wa thinking this was my last shot. God willing, this is the closest I’m ever getting back to Summer Camp. I had no idea everybody was going to have nicknames. But since they do, I haven’t kept mine a secret either. “…lot of people call me Iceman…” I must’ve let that one slip around the water cooler or the Meds counter a dozen times. Shrek… Whatever. I’ve got to grab a Sharpie and get to work on the Phonebooks. Shrek, my ass… I’m Iceman.

2 Responses to “They call me Iceman. And by ‘they’… I mean everybody.”

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