FALL registration is here, and I am one happy camper.

I never thought I'd be so excited for it. Last year, I was too nervous about my upcoming first year at Harvard to do anything but hate the event. And I'm still not too thrilled about the prospect of standing in long lines and fighting my way through the extracurricular tent.

But now, more than anything else, the Mem Hall happening means I'm back at home. I'm back at Harvard, the one place where I can finally escape being asked the one nightmarish question that's dogged me--and many other Harvard students--all summer long.

WHERE DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

QUITE simply, it's THE question for college students. It's basic smalltalk, a standard request that often forms the basis for an entire conversation.

The college question was popped on me many a time during the summer, which I spent in Israel, working, studying and touring-- and engaging in smalltalk with scores of American college students. One of my conversations involved a fellow named Fred, though my talk with Fred was almost identical to those I had with Jennifer, Chris, Michael or Maria.

I met Fred while waiting for a bus on Jerusalem's Ben Yehuda Street, an Israeli version of Harvard Square with the added attraction of occasional Palestinian terrorist bombings. And during my ephemeral acquaintance with Fred, I had a particularly typical, particularly terrible conversation that revolved around the college question.

"HOT ONE OUT TODAY, huh?" Fred asks me.

"You bet," I say. It is around 100 degrees, so I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

We start talking, and before I know it, we both know where the other is living, what he is doing, and how long he has been doing it. That means it is only a matter of time until Fred pops the question.

"So," Fred begins, "are you in college back home?"

I nod slightly, hoping his line of questioning will end at this. It doesn't.

"Where?" Fred continues, smiling. He really seems like a friendly guy.

"In Boston," I answer. Here we go again, I think. Fred looks unsatisfied. I know that the "in Boston" thing usually doesn't cut it, but I thought I'd give it a shot.

"B.U.?" Fred offers. The man really wants to know.