To those who know him only in passing, carrying on a conversation with Milton is one of the easiest things in the world.
"I think that's why Milton connects so well with people is that he can make a conversation out of anything," said Briana Schmidt (sophomore-economics and finance), who admits to not knowing him well. "He's very open and easy to approach ... and there is always something going on in his life to talk about."
And yet to his closest friends, talking with Milton can be an excruciating experience.
"It's very frustrating at times," housemate Joshua Surkosky (junior-information sciences and technology) said. "Once it took 20 minutes for us just to get from the [Penn State Bookstore] to the White Building. It's ridiculous."
Simply put, Milton Newberry III (junior-wildlife and fishery science) knows everyone, or so he says, as a veritable Van Wilder of Penn State.
A socialite to the Nittany degree, Newberry, known to most solely by his first name, is widely known across campus for nothing other than being himself.
Of course life wasn't always so grand for the trombone-playing band geek whose name garnered many a joke in his youth.
"Oh my gosh, I got every name in the book," he bellows. "On my lunch pail, my mom put the 'L' and the 'T' together so kids called me Mihon."
Other winners include "Miltz," "Motonia," the "Miltonic Dynamo" and, presently, "Milt Man."
So how exactly does a guy with a name rarely heard outside of board games become one of Penn State's most recognizable faces?
Sitting in the HUB-Robeson Center, Milton is assailed by a constant barrage of passersby -- most of them women -- giving their hellos, high fives, handshakes and hugs. He is as energetic and boisterous with each and every one, beginning to answer that very question.
Some students pass Milton off as cocky, but his subtleties give away his genuine demeanor. He's very matter-of-fact when discussing his life and social prowess, and it's apparent he's still getting accustomed to his celebrity.
Talking to one friend, he becomes distracted by another and moments later yet another. Milton apologizes profusely and genuinely along the way, trying to make his way back to friend No. 1. But a moment later, Beaumont Hung, manager of Panda Express, approaches to greet the fro-sporting big man on campus, to continue Milton's never-ending cycle of socializing.
That evening finds him relaxing at his home-away-from-home, the headquarters of the Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia music fraternity, where he is -- to little surprise -- the social chair.
Far fewer distractions deter Milton from conversation, with only 10 housemates to interrupt rather than the myriad of fans he has around campus.
In his room, surprising amounts of Transformers and Dragonball Z paraphernalia cover the walls and his desk. Surely, this guy can't have a love life? Smiling and -- for once -- scarce with details, he merely says, "Just tell all the single ladies to talk to me and find out."
Downstairs, Milton points to the mantle to show off one of his most valued possessions.
"This is how my friends view me," he says, pointing to a black animatronic hip-hop Santa. Upon pressing a button, the Santa begins to dance and rap a carol as he busts a move reminiscent of Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
During last semester's Facebook fad, Milton's charm garnered the creation of not one, but two, online groups dedicated to him.
One, created by friend Deanna Miller (sophomore-music education), came out of one of Milton's few social disappointments at Penn State.
"I really had my hopes up that Milton would be voted as Homecoming king this year," Miller says. "When he didn't make the top five, I know he was crushed. ... So, to prove to him that he deserved the crown, I created the 'I Know Milton' group on Facebook."
Yesterday, the group's membership was at more than 400 Penn Staters. The other group, "I Do Not Know Milton But We Talked Once!" has 22.
"I think it's all crazy," Milton says. "Don't get me wrong, I love it. I should make a group of people I appreciate and I'd add all those people to it."
As for the present, Milton has nothing less than a very full weekend planned. Thursday? Social. Friday? "Small" get-together ("but a lot of people always show"). Saturday? Huge house party.
Milton is cognizant of the future and is already in talks to get a job with the United States Department of Agriculture.
Until then, he balances a full academic and social schedule, performing as a member of a cappella group The Dreamers, playing trombone in the pep band and working at Redifer Commons.
Despite his omnipresence across campus, Milton insists he keeps it real for his own sake, as well as others.
"I know my imperfections and that I'm not the best at this and that," he said. "My mother would tell you that I don't. She calls me arrogant all the time. I tell her it's called a high self-esteem."
