i met Maeve because i was her RA and someone had called to complain that she was throwing nuts out the window at people.  sure as shit i get up there and she was sitting in the windowsill, throwing nuts out the window.  i asked her why and she simply said, “i try to get them into people’s cars through their windows.  its quite fun, give it a try.”  she extended a bag of nuts.  not one to exclude the possibility of adventure, i threw a cashew out and it went inside a window of a passing car.  ”see?” she asked. “just before you came in i got one through the sunroof of a car and hit a bald man right on his bald head with a brasil nut”.  i nodded, said “carry on” , and left.  we were friends ever since. 

i have never been to India, but Maeve seems to have run away there several times.  she kind of drops off the face of the earth, this crazy irish-american hippie-raised nutter of all that is silly and wonderful, and months later a postcard from India signed by her will appear in the mailbox.  the last one read “there are very few native americans here, only about a billion indians.”