Fletcher.

Fletcher walked straight from the pages of The Preppy Handbook. He wears sherbet –colored collared shirts of the dress and polo variety with jeans and Topsiders. Though he did wear flip-flops for as long as the weather would allow. When the weather turned particularly foul, the brand spanking new Timberland boots were broken out. A Christmas give from his mother, no doubt.
His straight straw colored hair is usually covered by a Chicago Cubs baseball cap. When it is not, his hair is his hair combed meticulously to the side.
He sits in the same seat for every class. Last row, aisle seat. He contributes in every class, expressing staunchly close-minded Republican views. But, Fletcher is smart.
Born and raised in Florida, he graduated from University of Miami with a degree in finance which he carries on his sleeve as evidence of his future Master of the Universe status. “Fletch”, as his friends call him, is obsessed with sports, especially college sports. While other students may discuss the reading before class, he and his buddies discuss the various football, baseball and hockey games that were on the night before.
Fletch takes his notes on a yellow legal pad. Occasionally he will bring in his MacBook Pro with the prominent Miami Vice wallpaper and play Tetris or check the espn.com if he starts to get bored.
He was pigeon-holed the moment he stepped foot in the classroom. Yet his subsequent behavior proved that sometimes first impressions can be correct. The public interest clique, comprised of the curly-haired voluptuous Latinas and pink-mohawked feminists and pixie-sized hippie chicks, dismissed him without a second glance. Though, there was no love lost. After his particularly offensive statements (usually regarding immigration or poverty) the girls exchange glances, shake their heads and mouth “What a douche!”