When at UNC, I stayed in Hinton James dorm, which had suites of four rooms with a shared bath/shower room. Because I was working about 24 hours a week (3 shifts, evenings or overnights) at Gravely Sanitorium and between working and studying, I really wasn't in my dorm room much. Once, on a Saturday night when I came back after finishing my shift at work, it was about 11:30 pm, I noticed there was a group of folks, boys and girls, in one of the other rooms just talking and drinking beer. To be polite, even though I was all beat to hell--I had worked the overnight shift Friday/Saturday and the evening shift on Saturday--I popped in to say hello. One of the unattached girls in the room, looked up, smiled at me, and said, "You look just like Bob Weir." I smiled and thanked her, stayed a few more minutes, and then went over to my room, collapsed on my bed, and immediately fell asleep. It was many years later that I realized . . . that girl was hitting on me. The notion that any girl would hit on me so farfetched to me at the time, that it never even crossed my sleep-deprived mind. For the record, neither then nor any time before or afterwards did I ever--even remotely--look like Bob Weir.
