College is such an interesting place to be. Everyone is over stressed and under slept. There is always a chapter to read and a paper to write. Nutrition, whatever lofty concepts we had of it at home anyway, is a thing of the past. Diets consist of candy, greasy diner food, pop-tarts, and soda. When you do eat a proper meal it is always preceded with the hunt for someone to eat with you. It could be a stranger, a friend or roommate, professor; it really doesn’t matter. But companionship is a must, if you are alone—something is wrong.
No one has money. And yet, there always seems to be books or food or supplies that need purchasing. If you can bum a ride, you do it. If you offer people rides, you do it in the hope of being reimbursed on a longer trip. You remain cautious of the University Police, if only for the simple fact that they love to write parking tickets. You cheer for
But I love college and am starting to get the hang of it.
It is such an exciting place. The fraternity and sorority parties help keep life interesting on slow nights. They throw parties called ‘swaps’ where there is a different theme for the frat boy and sorority girls that attend. One was ‘dirty old men and school girls.” The outfits, which are determined by the theme, are ridiculous; but I guess that’s the point. Public humiliation is supposed to humble you I suppose.
Well, I have had a fun personal experience with the afterbirth of such parties. One night a young man was escorted, stumbling, into the dorm lobby wearing a black-tank top and black short underwear. Garnishing his ensemble were nearly knee-high boots covered in electric tape and electric tape wrist bands. He resembled either a professional wrestler or a gladiatorial combatant. We, in the lobby, dubbed him Testicules after the ancient hero Hercules.
His helpful companion pressed the elevator button and asked where Testicules’s room was. The companion received gnarled mumbles for an answer. The elevator opened and the questioning continued while Testicules took a seat on the elevator’s chair…and tipped-over directly to his right side, slamming his head against the elevator’s wall. A hazy eyed chuckle was soon followed by a frown and a rubbing of the quickly knotting area of cranium. In honor of the occasion, or perhaps to prove in retellings that the events were actual, several members of the lobby party snapped pictures of the incident on their cell-phones. They still make me smile.
Later that night, I received a phone call from my room mate alerting me that Testicules was naked and running wild in the dorm! I grabbed April, deciding for her that this life experience was too valuable to miss. We jumped into the nearest elevator and raced down to the lobby, hoping all the way down we would garner a glimpse of a drunken, wildman streaker.
Our hopes were soon dashed. What we were greeted with were stories of the remaining lobby party bearing witness to Testicules baring it all. Apparently his companion had left him on the wrong floor because Testicules was unwilling, or unable, to dispel the proper answer. Apparently the night’s excitement had gotten to our hero, and he took time to vomit all over a bathroom on the third floor. None was in the proper receptacle. He then ventured down the third floor hall, which is occupied solely by girls, smearing his vomit down the length of the hall as he went. He found what would have been his door, had he been on the right floor, and beat it until his hand was sore. When his phantom roommates would not yield, he got back into the elevator and managed to press the lobby button.
When the elevator doors opened onto the lobby he had removed his underwear and revealed himself to the crowd there. How appropriately named Testicules proved to be. I think he might have been kicked out of the dorm, but I am not sure. But any group of so-called brothers that would allow one of their own to disgrace himself, and in proxy the entire group, is suspect. But they are rich and influential and keep political control on campus because the system is run by the machine. I accept this, as do most college students. That does not mean it is right, and something should be done about it. Where does public drunkenness fit into networking, community, and social service?
This is what I get to experience on a weekly basis and I love it. There are few dull moments and many great conversations. I am constantly broadening my horizons with our required readings and I feel like I’m finally becoming a person in society’s eyes. Now if I could just find a way to participate…
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