Instead of mentally and physically decomposing for the winter recess like most of his fellow pupils, Bill Klein decided to enroll in a weeklong immersion class on the topic of 20th Century European History. He remembered the importance of first impressions.

“I think you’re whole grade depends on that first moment you step into the classroom,” said Klein. “That’s why I wore corduroy.”

He wore a forest green colored corduroy which most fashonisté claim to be the most intellectually colored corduroy.

“Nice entrance,” thought one student in the front row. With a gracious head nod, Klein hurdled through the threshold and right into another pivotal moment in classroom strategy—the picking of the seat.

“If you pick the wrong seat, you risk sitting next to a mook or a loner,” said Klein. “Then you commit to talking to this person on a regular basis. Honestly, I didn’t put much thought into it this time.” Klein managed to land, with no comprehension of geographic location, next to an attractive young woman.

“She looked cute,” said Klein. “Well at least on the left side of her face.” She would later turn out to have an equally acceptable right side of her face, and smelled like April. Klein hoped that he could achieve what some men don’t achieve in an entire semester. Well, at least courageous or charismatic men. He wanted to possibly “hook up.” He had seven days to execute his mission.

Day 1 would yield little time to establish some sort of line of communication. The only time came during a group session following a lecture. Klein capitalized by issuing a few seemingly intelligible statements but failed to learn a name.

DAY 2-Blitzkrieg
Day 2 of this campaign saw basic preliminary diplomatic exchanges.
“I didn’t think those books would be so expensive,” “These exams are open book,” “God bless you,” said Klein.
“I know, 90 bucks,” “Yeah that’s much easier,” “Thank you,” she responded with a complicit smile.

DAY 3-Week End
Class persisted with the inevitable awkwardness of group work. But Klein took advantage to develop a line of communication and finally learned her name.
“I saw her write it on the paper we had to hand in,” said Klein. “I felt like Bond. Sean Connery though, not Pierce Brosnan.”
For respect of the privacy of the girl, we referred to her as ‘Queen Latifah.’
Class then recessed for the weekend.

DAY 4
Monday returned with the full fury of a fully loaded week. That’s a lot of F’s for one week, but Bill had another ‘F’ in mind. Regardless, he walked into the classroom and lacked corduroy determination.
“She had on a purple shirt,” said a dejected Klein. “Purple! That’s a power color. I was intimidated quite frankly.”
Klein, at this point, had also failed to establish any kind of routine banter before or after class.
“Recognizing each other’s existence is vital to relationship survival,” said Klein. “This “ship” had almost sunk.”

DAY 5
Following Monday’s debacle, Klein hoped to reverse his fortune. But, he totally blew it again. He was the New York Rangers of classroom loving.
The night before, Klein had engaged in a social game of beer pong—as if one really exists. During the regularly scheduled film session, Klein succumbed to the suffocating heat and noxious odors that emanated from CSI’s thirty-year-old radiators. He doesn’t remember if he leaked out any of the despicable Budweiser farts that he held in for two hours.

DAY 6
And then they fell...
Klein had consumed enough coffee to power a shuttle launch. This day was not only important for the mission, but also important for his grade. Today happened to be ‘review day.’

Klein managed to balance both with fairness and discretion. He initiated conversation by comparing notes. During a brief break he made a strange maneuver. He chatted with the girl on the other side of 'Her.' Klein had an angle.

“Women respond to jealousy,” said Klein. “Plus, it put her in a position where if she wanted to socialize she had to talk to me because she was in the middle of both of us.”

The professor ushered in one more film before the final exam. That also meant that one more group session would take place. The professor made a major announcement. He would allow students to openly discuss and compare notes during the final exam. A light bulb flashed above Klein’s head. And then a janitor walked in an unscrewed it.

“Hey why don’t we compare notes,” said Klein in an ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ fashion.

“Yeah sure,” she said. “Here’s my e-mail.” She wrote in on a piece of paper, tore it out of her Mead 5-Subject and handed it to him.

“I’ll mail them to you when I get out of work tonight at like ten,” he informed her.

“Good, I should be up,” she responded. Klein arrived home from his job at Rocky Toto’s fine Italian restaurant on Amboy Road in Tottenville--where you can visit him on Wednesday and Friday evenings after four o’clock—later that night at 10:13. He logged onto Safari and did what any good Bond spy would do in his situation.

He looked her up in MySpace. Much to his dismay, the relationship status indicated “In a Relationship.” Not “Single” or “It’s Complicated.” Full on, “In a Fucking Relationship.”

“I actually felt betrayed in a way,” said Klein.

Klein never emailed those notes that night.

DAY 7
The following day, Klein showed up quite prepared the following morning. A circle of students had gathered in his area to take the exam.

“I’m going to work alone,” said Klein. He never gave her an explanation as to why he didn’t send her his notes. He felt he didn’t need to explain. She was the one who betrayed him by having a boyfriend prior to their introduction.

“We met on paper,” said Klein. “That’s beautiful. It sounds like a Toni Braxton song or something.”

Klein then took out his text book, the one with Stalin on the cover, and began his exam.