campuscharacter Tales of a Traveling "Theologian" Theodore May plays 'rut from Middlebury to Beirut

Author: Tess Russell

Theodore May '08 is a man with a plan. He is doing his part to correct what he sees as a drastic flaw in Middlebury's policy - namely, our escalating efforts to decrease the College's carbon footprint.

"Who wants to attend a school with such tiny feet?" May, a History major and Manhattan, N.Y. native, joked during our recent interview at The Grille. (And by "interview at The Grille," I clearly mean "Trivia Night" at Two Brothers.)

If you are interested in joining the initiative to "consume more," there are some simple steps you can take. May pointed out that one easy way to get involved is to leave that "mystery switch" in your room on at all times. Hey, you never know - you could be igniting the main energy source of a small country somewhere.

I have known the "Theologian," as he has been dubbed by his suitemate Rowan Morris '08, since our prep school days, when we used to practice our shotgunning technique on Vanilla Cokes (sad but true) while he forced me to watch hours of C-SPAN against my will. Actually, I am pretty sure I owe every bit of my limited political knowledge to him, and trust me, I know things - there is a woman running for President!

All kidding aside, when May puts his mind to something, he is pretty much impossible to deter. That dedication, coupled with his natural mischievous streak, served him well last spring when he worked as a journalist in war-ravaged Lebanon. He and his fellow reporters would rent cars in Beirut and journey to the country's rural areas, encountering bombed-out bridges, rogue cows and mounting anti-American sentiment as they traveled south.

May recounted the story of one such mission to a Shi'a village in the region. When he and a Lebanese colleague attempted to ask the employee of a local drugstore a question about condom sales, they were literally run out of the shop as the man screamed "Shoo! Shoo!" at the top of his lungs. (Shoo translates to loosely to our "what," though the English meaning seems equally appropriate in this case.) The pharmacist later explained that he had not wanted to offend the women and children in the store, and put May through an exhaustive background check, only to ultimately reiterate his original position that he knew "nothing" about the administration of contraceptives.

Similarly challenging, but perhaps more illuminating, was an interview he conducted in one of the most conservative nations in the Middle East, with a "progressive" Yemeni≠ - so labeled because he had dared to request a face-to face meeting (chaperoned, of course) with his fiancÈe before their wedding. The man explained that foot fetishes are absolutely rampant in his homeland, because while virtually all of his countrywomen cover their bodies and faces completely, they do leave one small section of skin exposed by sporting sandals on a regular basis.

In addition to Lebanon and Yemen, May visited Syria, Jordan and the United Arab Emirates, where he tested out Dubai's famous indoor skiing facilities. He also spent the fall 2007 semester studying at the American University in Cairo, Egypt, where he gained notoriety as a rodeo champion, at least where the local amusement park was concerned.

"I noticed a crowd of veiled Egyptian woman wildly cheering on their sons, who were lining up to ride a mechanical bull," May said. "But the kids were hanging on for probably 3-4 seconds maximum! I figured it was my duty to uphold the stereotype of the rugged, all-American cowboy."

Sure enough, May ended up shattering the previous record, and was even offered a free ride by the operator, who appreciated the large crowd his performance had attracted. May celebrated his victory with a "triumphant roar of strength," which he claimed was a big hit with the Egyptian mothers. (By the way, he did the whole thing wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the word "khuwaga," Arabic for "foreigner.")

Still, the highlight of his year abroad is uncontested - he was able to successfully unite Beirut, his beloved city, and Beirut, his preferred contest of imbibing.

"My Lebanese buddies were amazed that there was an American drinking game named after their hometown," May said. "I decided I had to make it happen, so we organized a massive celebration after I finally tracked down Ping-Pong balls, plywood and Solo cups (albeit mini ones)."

The finishing touches? A rousing rendition of the Lebanese national anthem, team "uniforms" of traditional Lebanese garments and plenty of local beer.

"Basically, everyone burst out laughing when they saw that the game was played by dropping 'bombs' over the formations of cups," May said. "It was epic."