Randy was pissed. It had been a great weekend; it was the Florida-Alabama game and like every fan at FSU, he was jazzed. Problem was, they had no TV. Or rather, they had a TV, in Tex’s dorm room, but no cable to hook it to. Big Paul had come up with a solution—a crazy stoner’s solution, but they loved it—and it had worked. Sort of. Big Paul and Little Paul had gone to the fourth floor, the first women’s floor at Kellum Hall. Wearing white overalls, which Big Paul had snitched from the maintenance office, they had told the few girls desultorily watching a local channel while sweating in the hot dorm lounge, that they were there to fix the TV, which did have cable. Since the channel was local, when they unhooked the cable and dropped it out the window, nothing had changed. Apparently Big Paul knew something about TV cable, which in this year, 1976, was a new thing, and had come up with a one-hundred-foot roll of it and the terminals to connect it.
