Antonio was the first professor I met at Princeton, when I was assigned as his advisee. I was so nervous as an incoming freshman, but Antonio’s laidback attitude made it easier to adjust. He treated his students and advisees like people… like friends. I remember sitting in my first advising group with him and listening to him jump back and forth between English and Spanish, jokingly warning us not to spend too much time on “La Calle,” where much of Princeton’s nightlife takes place. He consistently sent out encouraging and funny emails. When I was freaking out over midterms, he wrote that he understood how it could be difficult to deal with “four papers, problem sets, two exams, and a desperate girlfriend/boyfriend texting you frantically and threatening with moving on if you keep being the nerdy self you are these days...., but that’s part of the Princeton experience.” He always acknowledged that there was life outside of the classroom. My second semester, I made sure to enroll in his Spanish class on advanced grammar, which could have been a dreadfully boring topic, but Antonio made the class so much fun by using crazy example sentences to explain each concept while simultaneously making fun of everyone in the class. I always left with a smile. It was because of that class and my conversations with Antonio that I decided to declare a Spanish major and attend a summer program that he led in Toledo, Spain. Antonio was the life of the party throughout Princeton in Spain. I went to a Corpus Christi parade with him and a few other people and he made jokes about the costumes the entire time. He made everything fun. After a tour of Toledo, he sent out an email with a photo of handcuffs of freed Catholic prisoners that were hung to show the Catholic victory during war. Antonio called them the queen’s “bling bling.” My birthday fell on a day when everyone was writing final papers and I was planning on just doing work all day, but Antonio came into the dining room during lunch, holding a cake for me. I’ll always miss his hilarious emails randomly signed “Paz y amor, P. Diddy,” his lessons about Spanish slang while drinking Mahou on the sidewalks of Toledo, and his hilarious and lively personality. His death seems so surreal because he was one of the most alive people I’ve ever met. He will always be remembered.