Ken Weidler was a broad-backed, fresh-faced boy from central Pennsylvania when he showed up at Penn to begin dental school in the fall of 1977. He had fair hair, blue eyes, a square jaw, and perfect teeth. Despite his good looks, Ken was hesitant and awkward. He figured dental school was going to be a grind. College had been fun, but now it was time to knuckle down. His father was a dentist, so Ken expected his classmates would be like his father. Dental school would be populated by mature, serious, hardworking students preparing for a normal, responsible life. This is how he saw it. There would be no more drinking bouts, no more all-night parties, and, even more likely, no more pot. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he had thought it through and he was ready for it. That perception lasted only a few weeks. Ken found that although most of his classmates in dental school were more serious students than those he had known at Muhlenberg State College, and did tend to be more reserved socially, there was nevertheless a sizable proportion of potheads to keep him company.
