Admittedly, I’m no beacon of normality. I’m sure I’ve done things and said things that have made people rush home to tell their friends all about the “total weirdo” they just ran into. Here in Ithaca – land of the organic, city of the dread-locked – I think it’s fair to say we’ve all been there. Like the time you tried to ask that cute girl in your writing seminar to meet you by “leeb slope” or “beeb lake,” only to discover later that day, upon recounting the story to your friends, why she seemed so confused about the whereabouts of your intended rendezvous. Or that time you broke into uncontrollable giggles upon first hearing (from your advisor no less) the words Ho Plaza.