It was the spring of 1998 and you could have called me naive.
I had just finished a horrifying semester at college, and it was only a matter of time before I was discovered to be a total failure. I had spent my first semester exploring the campus and people, second semester buckling down and doing quite well, and the next semester doing what the majority of Quebec college students do - lounging about, preparing for a summer to remember.
I, on the other hand, was preparing for a summer I would dread. Despite having succeeded (I use that term loosely) at masking my inexplicable laziness and lack of motivation to further my education, my cover was about to be blown...