FROM a pessimist's perspective, your first week at Harvard is essentially a string of inane, superficial conversations. From an optimist's perspective, it's a great chance to meet and converse with 1600 fascinating people... for 30 seconds each.

Although Orientation Week may seem like a tryout to be a game show host, it's really just a game. More accurately, it's a series of games that you've been playing since you arrived first and claimed the only single in your room for yourself.

The Hometown Game

"Where do you live?"

"Thayer."

"No, I mean originally--where are you from?"

"Tulsa, Oklahoma. And you?"

"Westfield, New Jersey. You've probably never heard of it."

"No, I haven't. I switched planes in Newark once, though."

"Yeah, Newark." Knowing laugh.

"Yeah." Weak smile.

The goal of forming some kind of bond, as weak as it may be, has been reached. Chalk one up for both sides. Forming the bond was the real point of the conversation, while finding out where the other person lives was secondary.

At about this point, you notice a deafening silence. How to escape? You can't say you hear your mother calling you for dinner. Perhaps it's time to move on to another fairly innocuous, non-contact, non-competitive game.

The Name Game.

"You went to Hotchkiss? Do you know Kate Lindsay?"