Sympathies.

Don't worry, Ghani. I feel for you. Let me tell you a story.

So it's sophomore year. I'm the RA of the smallest freshman hall on campus. It's Saturday night. I've just gotten back from the KKG formal. In short, I've had a normal, healthy college evening, and it's 3 a.m. I'm talking to my roommate, Jim.

Then the loudest fucking noise I've ever heard rips out from the side of my room. Everything rattles. Jim looks around. "Upstairs?" he asks. I notice two ghostly lights just below my dorm room window.

Oh yes. It's a car. A 3000 GT that now has seven grand worth of damage and is rapidly driving away from the scene. I just wanted to make sure the fucker was okay. As he drives off, that altruism dissolves into murderous rage.

I didn't catch him, but he only lost me after I had run on his tail half way across campus (south housing to the library, since you'd have a frame of reference) and had vomited twice.

So I feel your pain.