House of Kidz (DRAFT)

2006-05-27T11:49:00.000-07:00

"Oh, wretched memory that compels us to remember the paths we took to arrive at the present state of affairs!"
-- Witold Gombrowicz

Introduction

1 - Hold My Calls
2 - Do You Drink Beer?
3 - Get Down, You Big Brown Cow
4 - I Hope You Get Pregnant Tonight
5 - Passing by the Thin Skin of One's Balls
6 - Bidding Farewell
7 - Brotherly Love
8 - The Summer of Breakfasts at Denny's
9 - Sophomorons
10 - When a Frat Is Not a Frat
11 - The Best of All Possible Weekends
12 - Brother's Keeper
13 - White Wedding
14 - The Summer of Highs and Lows
15 - One Small Sip
16 - Too Bad, I Did Her
17 - Fun Is the Best Thing to Have
18 - The Summer of Contemplation and Consumption
19 - They Hate Jews, Don't They?
20 - Thanksgiving at Daddy's
21 - The Color of Honor
22 - Dropping Trou
23 - Go Deep--I'll Fake It to You
24 - Scorpion Bowls for Four
25 - Growing Up

Introduction

2006-05-27T11:25:00.000-07:00

Introduction

It has now been almost ten years since I first started writing this book--at the tail end of my long expatriation in Eastern Europe. It was my first piece of writing; and reading it over now, I see that it suffers many of the problems that would be expected of a first-time author who had little professional input. But it also has the freshness that can only be found in the voice of someone who doesn't know what they're doing. So, while this book would've been completely different if I were to write it today, I'm glad I did it when I did.

You should be forewarned that this book is extraordinarily vulgar, without the slightest pretense of correctness. Even I have blushed at some of the language. If you are easily offended by humor of a sexual, scatological, or racial nature, please read no further.

But I make no apologies for this. Although this is work of fiction, the situations and the language used in the book are quite reflective of the times upon which they're based.

I'll conclude here with Rabelais' great words:

Good friends, my Readers, who peruse this Book,
Be not offended, whilst on it you look:
Denude yourselves of all depraved affection,
For it contains no badness, nor infection:
'Tis true that it brings forth to you no birth
Of any value, but in point of mirth;
Thinking therefore how sorrow might your mind
Consume, I could no apter subject find;
One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span;
Because to laugh is proper to the man.

25

2006-05-27T11:22:00.000-07:00

25

Growing Up

I must have stared for hours into the parking lot where the fraternity house stood, before finally noticing that it was getting dark.

"The sun also sets," I whispered as I looked up at the sky.

I then quickly turned on my mobile phone and called Sarah, but the line was busy.

"Well, I guess I'd better be heading home then," I said to myself as I walked to the corner to catch a cab. While I was waiting, my phone rang.

"Where the hell are you?" Sarah screamed. "I've been trying to call you for hours."

"I'm in DC."

"What the hell are you doing in Washington?"

"It's a long story. I'll try to explain it to you when I get home. I'm heading to the airport right now, so with any luck, I should be home in a few hours."

"You better believe you'll explain it, Jake. You know, all I got this afternoon was some cryptic message from Maria about how you would be out of the office for the rest of the day, and unreachable. What's going on? Have you forgotten that today is your tenth anniversary at the company?"

"No, I haven't forgotten."

"Well, then did you forget that Daddy was throwing you a dinner party tonight?"

"No, I didn't forget that either. Please apologize for me."

"You should apologize yourself. I can't understand what could've possibly gotten into you."

"Listen, honey, I really don't want to talk about it right now. Can we talk later?"

"Fine! Good-bye!"

"Well, that didn't go nearly as badly as it could have," I whispered to myself as I put my phone back in my pocket and hailed a cab.

"You know, this city seems to have changed a lot," I said to the driver on the way to the airport.

"When was the last time you were here?" he asked.

"Well, this is the first time I've been back in about ten years. I went to college here."

"Yeah, things have certainly changed considerably since then. You know, the one thing that's always constant about DC is that it's always changing. It's the very nature of the city. And it's especially changed in the last few years, almost entirely for the worse."

After he dropped me off at the terminal, I checked in on the next plane to Newark.

As I sat in the waiting area, I remembered how I had run into George's brother Tony in the Boston Airport about five years earlier. I also remembered how surprised I was when I saw him dressed as a priest.

"Tony DePalma?" I asked, when by chance I passed by him while he was waiting for a plane. "Is that you?"

"Yes," he replied, obviously not recognizing me at first. "Wait a minute. I know you, don't I? . . . Yes, you're Jake, one of George's friends."

"That's right. My God! What happened to you? You know, you have to be the very last person I would've ever suspected of becoming a priest. Oh, excuse me."

"It's okay, Jake," he grinned. "Your reaction isn't much different from the reaction most of my friends had when I told them I was entering the priesthood. George didn't even believe me when I told him. And my mother, well my mother nearly fainted."

"So why did you become a priest? That is, if you don't mind me asking."

"No, not at all. You know, to be perfectly honest, I really can't say that it was one thing in particular that led me to make the decision. I certainly didn't have a vision or anything like that. It was a decision that came about over the course of a number of years. As you know, I was pretty wild and reckless when I was younger. It was all so meaningless. I really needed to find something that would bring value to my life. Now that I'm a priest, though, everything has changed, and I couldn't be happier. I run a house for troubled inner city youth in Boston. It's been quite an experience for me. You know, most of the kids are pretty decent. They've just had a lot of bad breaks and need direction. Everybody deserves a second chance in life, and giving someone that chance is an incredible feeling. I'll tell you something, if I can reach even one out of ten of these kids, I'll consider myself more successful than I could have ever been doing anything else. Well, enough about me. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm doing great. I work for a management consulting company in New York. I was just here in Boston on a business trip. I'm also married. In fact, my wife and I are expecting our first child at the end of the year."

"Congratulations! You know, George is also married. He married Karen a few years back. To be truthful, though, I had some mixed feelings about it. If you haven't already heard, George converted to Judaism."

"You're kidding! George is a Jew?"

"Yes, George is Jewish. Karen would only marry him if he converted. Obviously, I wasn't particularly happy about it, but I understood why he did it. Karen is a wonderful woman. And it certainly didn't change the way I feel about him. Nothing can do that."

"What else is he up to?"

"Well, he's now an attorney, and he's doing really well at it."

"Just what this world needs, another Jew lawyer."

"I'll tell him you said that," he smiled. "Hey, why don't I give you his number. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

"That would be great. You know, I haven't seen him or any of the other guys since Gary's wedding, and that was right after graduation."

"Speaking of Gary, he is also doing well. As he and George are still pretty close friends, I see him and Belinda now and then. In fact, they just had twins last year. You should see them. They're both unbelievably cute."

"Wow, I should give him a call as well."

"Come to think of it, not too long ago George had a party at his house, and a number of guys from your fraternity were there. Do you remember Brian? Well, he's now an assistant in the new Clinton administration. The guys were really teasing him about it. And Joey and Kevin were also there. Did you know they just opened a restaurant together?"

"Joey and Kevin?"

"Yes, Joey and Kevin. A few months ago they opened up some kind of steak house in Manhattan. George and a bunch of guys went down there for the opening, and George said that it was the best steak he ever ate. He also said that Joey and Kevin are now completely inseparable."

"That's unbelievable!"

"Well, I must say that they certainly make an unusual pair. But hey, that's the wonderful thing about fraternities--great friendships are formed between people who would've never been friends otherwise, and the friendships can last forever. You know, I was in a fraternity as well, and I still keep in touch with a lot of the guys."

My concentration was broken when we started boarding the plane, but as soon as I stepped on board, I was again deep in thought about the fraternity. Toward the end of the flight, I somehow managed to doze off, but I was soon woken up by one of the flight attendants.

"Sir, please wake up," she said to me as she gently shook my shoulder. "We've landed. We're in Newark."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said as I awoke to a completely empty aircraft.

"That's quite all right. I hope you had a pleasant nap, and, of course, a pleasant flight."

I stood up, slowly put on my jacket, and walked out of the plane.

As I passed through the airport corridor, I started thinking about all I had accomplished in the past ten years and all I had lost, and I tried to determine whether I actually came out ahead. Had I really become a better, happier, and prouder man? Or did I just sell out who and what I was, all for a dream that was never really mine?

"I thought I grew up," I whispered to myself as I left the airport, "but I guess I just grew old."

When I finally got home, I stood in front of the driveway for a few minutes, not quite ready to go inside. Someone must have seen me, however, because my two young daughters soon ran outside and jumped on me.

"Daddy! Daddy!" my oldest daughter Rachel shouted. "What did you bring us?"

Moments later, Sarah slowly walked outside, and as she put her hands on her hips, she glared at me. Although she did look angry, I could tell that she was actually glad to see me.

We continued to stare at each other for a few seconds, before I briefly looked down at my daughters. When my eyes finally returned to Sarah's, for the first time that day, I genuinely smiled.

Selling out, it seems, has its benefits.

THE END

24

2006-05-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

24

Scorpion Bowls for Four

"HEY, Black Flag!" someone screamed at me as I walked into the library to study for final exams.

"David, is that you?" I replied as I turned around. "Man, I don't think I've seen you since freshman year. I thought you probably transferred or something."

"Well, you've probably haven't seen me around because I live off campus. Also, I spent junior year in France. So, what are you up to? You sure look a lot different than you did freshman year. Are you still a neo-nihilist?"

"Not quite. It's pretty amazing that you still remember that."

"And what about Black Flag? You must still listen to Black Flag, don't you?"

"Well, to be real honest, not that often. I'm afraid I've kind of outgrown that type of music."

"So tell me then, what's going on? I guess you're going to be graduating in a few weeks."

"Well, I certainly hope so. And after I graduate, there's a good possibility that I'll be able to get a job with this management consulting firm I know."

"Management consulting firm? Boy, you certainly have changed. I mean, four years ago you were this wild-looking guy, a neo-nihilist who listened to Black Flag. Man, you were so fucking cool. Strange, but cool. You know, this whole school is just filled with these preppy types. No one seems to be original at all. They're just preparing themselves to be mindless cogs in the corporate machine, without any soul or inspiration. I always thought though you were different, but I guess you sold out and became one of them as well. Just another terminal preppie."

"What do you mean, I sold out? What did I sell out? I was a nihilist--I didn't believe in anything."

"Well, just remember, believing in nothing is still believing in something . . . I think."

While I was sitting in the library studying, I could not help but think about what David had said. There certainly was an element of truth to it. I had changed a lot, and I did kind of fit in with everyone else. While at first this disturbed me a little, I also remembered how my life had improved tremendously over the same period of time. So maybe I had become a terminal preppie, but at least I was a contented terminal preppie.

Although I studied reasonably hard during the final days before my last exams, I spent almost every evening getting drunk and having a good time. I knew it would almost certainly have a detrimental effect on my grades, but these were my last few weeks as a college student, and I wanted to enjoy them as much as possible.

That week, we began almost every night by drinking some beer at the house, before eventually spending most of the evening at the Black Rooster. We would then usually come back to the house for a late barbecue.

Late one night, as Joey was getting ready to drive to Safeway to buy some food for that evening's barbecue, he suddenly stopped at the front door and turned back to us.

"Hey, Kevin," he said, "would you like to come and give me a hand?"

"Sure," Kevin replied.

After the two of them walked out of the house together, the entire room fell completely silent. It was the first time that I even saw Joey talk to Kevin.

"Did you guys see what I just saw?" Brian asked. "I must be really drunk."

"Well, maybe now that Kevin is a brother," Pete replied, "he's putting all that stupidity behind him. Besides, I can't see how anyone could dislike Kevin for any period of time, not even Joey. He just needed to get to know him a little bit."

Late that evening, when I finally went upstairs, it couldn't have been earlier than 3:00 A.M. As I walked into my room, it felt as if I had walked into an oven, as it had been a hot day and I had forgotten to leave the window open before I left that morning. As I opened the window, I heard voices coming from the front steps. When I looked down, I saw Joey and Kevin talking among themselves. Even as I was falling asleep, I could still hear them laughing and joking outside.

"Kev," Joey said, "you only think that you've eaten steak before. Give me a call sometime this summer. I'll take you to my cousin's restaurant. The meat there will literally melt in your mouth."

A few days later, as I was about to enter class for my last final exam, I looked at my watch and saw that I was almost an hour early. However, as I had already been studying for the exam the past two days, I felt that it would be better just to sit and wait for it. When I walked in, I was surprised to see that I was not the first one there, as a few other students were already sitting in the classroom going over notes together.

"How come you're not studying?" one of them asked when he saw me staring out into space.

"Well, at this point," I replied, "either I know it or I don't. Studying further would just bring diminishing returns."

"Diminishing returns?"

"Yup, diminishing returns. I learned all about it in my economics class."

About half an hour before the exam started, Jeff, a fellow Philosophy major that I had known since freshman year, walked into the classroom rolling a keg of beer.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Well, I talked to the professor last night," he replied, "and I asked him, considering that this will be my last final exam, whether I could bring a keg of beer. He said, 'Sure, why not?' "

"You've got to be kidding!"

"No. Professor Roosevelt is really cool."

I helped Jeff roll the keg of beer into the corner of the classroom, just before the professor walked in. He looked quite surprised.

"Oh, my God!" he cried. "You really did it! Jeff, I thought you were joking. Just do me a favor though, guys--don't tell anyone I let you do this. I almost have tenure."

During the course of the exam, more than once I went up to the front of the room to get a beer. While I probably had two or three beers, by about an hour into the exam, the professor was visibly drunk. Near the end of the exam, after almost everyone had finished, the room became quite loud, and the atmosphere became more like a party than a final exam.

"Excuse me," the professor said to the few students who were still taking the exam, "if we're bothering any of you, please feel free to go next door to finish."

The students still taking the exam remained in the classroom, though, probably because they were too busy copying off each other to leave.

After I finished, I stayed and had a few more beers; and I would have stayed even longer, if not for the fact that the graduating seniors in the house had planned an outing to Trader Vic's that night. When I saw what time it was, I ran back to the house, and I got there just as everyone was getting ready to leave.

"Where have you been, Jake?" George asked. "We were about to leave without you."

"I'm sorry, but there was a keg of beer at my last final exam. In fact, I'm already pretty drunk."

"A keg of beer at a final? Man, I should have been a Philosophy major."

About ten of us then went to Trader Vic's, a restaurant famous for its strong Asian drinks. Although we had made a reservation for twelve, they had no large tables, and as all the tables were bolted to the floor, we had to sit separately. George, Tom, Johnny Mass, and I sat together.

"I can't believe that I had my last final exam today," Tom said while we were waiting for service. "Of course, as I'll be going to law school in the fall, it's just the beginning."

"So, have you decided on which school you're going to go to?" George asked.

"Well, right now, I'm kind of leaning toward NYU, but it's not definite. I'll have to decide pretty soon, though. What about yourself? Are you still thinking about applying to law school?"

"Maybe in a few years. But I want to get some experience under my belt first. Especially as my grades aren't all that great."

Just then, the waiter, a thin Asian man named Wu, came to our table to take our order.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he smiled. "What can I get you?"

"Scorpion Bowls for four," Tom replied.

"Very good. One Scorpion Bowl for four."

"No, no, no. You must've misunderstood me, Wu." Tom then pointed to each of us in turn, including himself. "One Scorpion Bowl for four, one Scorpion Bowl for four, one Scorpion Bowl for four, and one Scorpion Bowl for four. We want four Scorpion Bowls for four. You got that, Wu?"

"Yes, very good."

The waiter then left, murmuring something in Chinese under his breath as he walked away.

By the time we were finishing our second round of Scorpion Bowls for four, all four of us were very drunk.

"You know, I've never been very good at math," Johnny said, "but if we were to order another round of Scorpion Bowls for four, I guess that would mean that we would each have had twelve Scorpion Bowls for four, right?"

"Yes, Johnny," Tom replied, "you're not very good at math. If we each had three Scorpion Bowls for four, it would mean that we would each have had three Scorpion Bowls for four. What I think you are trying to get at is this: if we each had a third round of Scorpion Bowls for four, we would each then have had the equivalent of twelve Scorpion Bowls. Normal Scorpion Bowls, that is."

"Oh, right. Thanks for setting me straight on that point, Tom."

"My pleasure, Johnny."

About an hour later, we stumbled out of the restaurant together. As we were walking away though, Johnny noticed a Washington Times vending machine standing in front of the restaurant, and for some reason he stood and stared at it.

"What the hell are you doing, Johnny?" Tom asked. "We're going! Come on!"

"You know what, guys?" Johnny said. "I've never really liked the Washington Times."

He then picked up his right foot, and with all his force, kicked in the window of the machine.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Tom screamed as he ran toward Johnny. "You're going to get us all arrested, you fucking idiot!"

Johnny then grabbed the machine and knocked it onto the ground.

"Fucking Moonies!" he screamed as Tom dragged him away.

Fifteen minutes later, as we were approaching the house, I stopped when I saw Jeff in the street.

"Hey, Jeff, how's it going?" I asked.

"Great, man," he replied, obviously quite inebriated. "We just finished the keg."

"What? You mean you guys kept drinking after the exam? That must have been at least two hours ago."

"That's right. We stayed there until the keg was completely tapped. Man, you should have seen Professor Roosevelt. He was out of his fucking mind. He was even doing keg hits with us. You know, I hope he decides to correct the exams right now. We'll all get A's for sure. And let me tell you, he wasn't the only guy who got smashed. Right now, I'm so out of my fucking mind that I have to go pass out immediately. I'll see you at graduation if I should live so long."

When I returned to the house, I walked upstairs to Tom and Johnny's room, where some of the guys were hanging out after returning from Trader Vic's. While almost everyone looked as if they were in bad shape, no one looked worse than Johnny. He was lying on his bed with his head leaning over the edge, staring at the ground, as if he were waiting for hell to swallow him.

"What's the matter with Johnny?" I asked.

"I think Johnny had one too many Scorpion Bowls for four," Tom replied. "You know, the funny thing is that this might be the first time in the four years I have known Johnny that he has absolutely nothing to say."

Saturday afternoon, the day before graduation, I waited outside the house for my parents to arrive. As it was a beautiful day, a couple of guys took the television set outside and were watching it on the front lawn. They also took the opportunity to tan themselves. While none of them were in particularly great shape, Gumby, who at the time must have been at least a hundred pounds overweight, was especially unattractive with his shirt off.

"Hey, Gumby," Gary smiled. "I'm sorry, buddy, but you really look like a beached whale."

"Laugh if you'd like," Gumby replied, "but my girlfriend thinks that my blubber is very sexy. She's one of those tubby chasers, you know."

A few minutes later, my father turned the corner and walked up to the house.

"Son, are you ready?" he asked. "I parked the car just down the street over there. I found an incredible spot. Wait until you see it. So, let's hurry up, your mother is waiting for us in the car."

As I stepped inside the car, I leaned over and kissed my mother on the cheek.

"Hi, Mom," I said. "How was the trip?"

"Oh, the usual," she replied. "So, where would you like to go for dinner? This is your weekend."

"Oh, it really doesn't matter to me. I'm not really all that hungry."

We went to the Orleans House, a restaurant across the river in Virginia that specialized in prime rib. While we all ordered the prime rib, I ordered the largest cut available, the King Louis XIV. When the waitress brought the enormous slab of meat, my mother was shocked.

"You're not hungry, Jacob?" she asked.

"You didn't see me get a salad now, did you?"

After dinner, while we were finishing our coffee, my mother leaned over toward me and started caressing my cheek.

"Oh, Jacob, do you have any idea how proud we are of you?" she said. "You're the first one in our family to graduate from college."

"What about your cousin Harry?" I asked.

"I stand corrected. The first sane person in our family to graduate from college. Hey, where's Sarah this evening?"

"Oh, she's out with her parents tonight. That reminds me though. Her parents invited all of us to dinner tomorrow night after graduation."

"Oh, so the big-shot consultant will be taking us out, eh?" my father replied. "It's too bad I left my coat and tails at home."

Almost as soon as they dropped me off at the house that evening, I started drinking, and I didn't stop until well past 6:00 A.M. A few hours later, when I finally pulled myself out of bed to get ready for the graduation ceremony, I had never felt so bad. Somehow, though, I made it to the bathroom.

"This is it," I thought as I slowly shaved. "Graduation day. I thought it would never come."

Later that morning, when I arrived at the Smith Center for the graduation ceremony, I picked up my gown and cap and sat down with the other three Philosophy graduates.

"Man, you look the way I felt the other day," Jeff said to me.

"Jeff, please don't speak so loud," I replied.

"But, Jake, I'm not speaking loud at all."

"Oh. Then maybe it would be best if you didn't speak at all."

After the graduation ceremony, I met my parents at a reception in the Marvin Center.

"Congratulations!" my mother screamed as she hugged me.

I almost buckled over from the sound of her voice.

"What's the matter, honey?" she asked. "Aren't you feeling okay? I guess this must be a pretty emotional moment for you."

"Something like that."

"So tell me, where are Sarah and her parents?"

"Oh, Sarah is in the business school, so their graduation was in a different building. She told me, though, that we should meet them at the Four Seasons at around six. It's not too far from here, so we have plenty of time."

A little after six, when we walked into the restaurant, I saw Sarah and her parents sitting and waiting for us. I also noticed a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling next to the table.

"Congratulations, honey," Sarah said as she got up from the table and gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

"Same to you. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not really. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes."

"Congratulations, Jake," Mr. Goldman said as he stood up and offered me his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Goldman," I replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"Oh, please call me Ben, for Christ's sake! And David, it's nice to see you again. I bet you're real proud of Jake today."

"Absolutely. I guess this is a special day for all of us."

"David, please let me introduce you to my wife, Kim."

"It's so nice to finally meet both of you," Mrs. Goldman said to my parents as she shook their hands.

"And this is my wife, Ruth," my father said.

"It's a pleasure to meet both of you," my mother smiled. "I must say that you raised a wonderful daughter. We both think very highly of Sarah."

After we sat down, Mr. Goldman called the waiter over to pour the champagne.

"A toast, everyone," he said, raising his glass. "To Jake and Sarah: congratulations, and best of luck. We're very proud of both of you. And hopefully, in the not too distant future, we'll have something even better to celebrate."

"Daddy, don't embarrass me," Sarah interrupted.

During dinner, although there was some small talk, it did not seem as if there was any real conversation taking place. Our parents quite obviously did not have much, if anything in common.

"So tell me, Jake," Mr. Goldman said, breaking a relatively long period of silence, "have you given any thought to what we were talking about over Thanksgiving? You know, about coming to work for us."

"Yes, I have. And I'm really interested, if you still are. I even took accounting and economics courses this semester, like you suggested."

"That's terrific news. I tell you what: why don't you relax for a few days after you get home, and then give me a call. I'll arrange for you to come in for an interview."

At the end of the evening, the six of us walked out of the restaurant together.

"Thank you very much for dinner," my father said to Mr. Goldman as he shook his hand goodnight.

"Don't mention it," Mr. Goldman replied. "You know, now that the kids are home, we should really get together more often."

"We could even go to services together," Mrs. Goldman added.

I then walked Sarah home, and in front of her dorm, I kissed her goodnight.

"You're not coming in?" she asked. "I thought we would spend our last evening in school together."

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I promised the guys that I would meet them at the Rooster. This is my very last night at school. I hope you're not going to be too upset."

"No, go on. Have a good time. You need to finally get this out of your system. Give me a call tomorrow morning though. I think we're going to be leaving around eleven. That is, if we can get all my stuff into the car by then."

I then went to the Black Rooster for the very last time. After it closed, Mike the bartender let us stay, and he even poured all the new graduates a shot of sambucca on the house.

"I don't know about this, Mike," Gary said as we were about to do the shots together. " 'Bucca bad; 'bucca hurt Gary."

"Don't be a pussy," I said. "Just drink it."

A little later, Brian and I walked back to the house together.

"You know, I'm really going to miss you, Jake," he said as we walked into the house. "This place just isn't going to be the same without you guys. I really hope that you'll visit often."

"Well, I think the house is in pretty good hands. Hey, I guess you're pretty psyched about being the new president, eh?"

"I'm pretty excited about it, but I'm also a little nervous."

"Don't worry about it, you'll be fine. Who knows, Brian, maybe this will be the start of a long political career."

"I don't know about that. You know, I really don't know if I'm cut out for politics. I'm afraid that my political views are not particularly popular."

"You never know. What's unpopular today could be popular tomorrow, and vice-versa."

"That's the problem, Jake. I don't agree with that. What's right is right, and what's right should always be right."

"Maybe you're right, Brian. Maybe you're not cut out for politics."

"Well, hey, forget about me. What about you? How do you feel about joining the real world? Have you got any job leads yet?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Sarah's father works for a management consulting firm, and he says that there's a good chance he can get me a job there. It sounds terrific; I really hope that it works out."

"And how is Sarah? You know, I've hardly seen her other than at that Semi-formal."

"Well, she's not big on fraternities. Fortunately, she has other qualities."

"You're pretty whipped, aren't you?"

"Whipped, chained, and beaten, my friend. Basically, it's all over for me but the shouting."

"Too bad, I did her! He-he-he."

"Very funny. Hey, do you want another beer?"

"You must be joking. I'm going to bed. But make sure you say good-bye to me tomorrow before you leave. Goodnight, buddy."

After Brian walked upstairs, I went to the Beermeister and poured myself a final beer. As I took a sip, I heard voices coming from the back room. When I walked toward the entranceway, I saw Joey playing darts with Eric, a friend of his who was a brother in one of the neighboring fraternities.

"I don't know how you can put up with it, Joey," Eric said.

"Put up with what?" Joey asked as he shot a dart.

"You know, with having that fucking nigger in your fraternity."

Joey calmly put his beer down on a table and turned to Eric.

"What did you say?" Joey asked.

"What? What do you mean?"

"What did you fucking say?" Joey screamed.

When Eric did not answer, Joey walked up to him, and with one hand, picked Eric up by the collar and raised him into the air. For some reason, it instantly reminded me of my European History professor's description of Bismarck lifting his would-be assassin into the air after being shot.

"Don't you ever use that word in this house again! Especially in reference to a brother. Do you fucking understand me, asshole?"

Eric nervously nodded his head a few times, before Joey finally dropped him onto the ground. Joey then nonchalantly walked back to his beer and took another sip.

"Why don't you get the fuck out of here," Joey continued. "You're really starting to bore me."

Eric quickly got up and ran out the back door.

By the time Joey noticed that I was standing by the entranceway, I must have been smiling at him for at least a few seconds.

"What the fuck are you grinning at?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "Nothing at all. Goodnight, Joey."

"Goodnight," he said as he threw a dart. "And hey, congratulations."

I walked back into the main room and took one last sip of beer before leaving the half-full glass by the Beermeister. I then took a quick look around the room, where so much had happened to me over the previous few years.

"You know, I'm really going to miss this place," I whispered to myself as I walked up to my room. "Dee was right. This house really is the epitome of kidz."

23

2006-05-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

23

Go Deep--I'll Fake It to You

AT the end of the semester, everyone in the house was excited about Greek Weekend, an annual event that took place the last weekend before the end of classes. During the course of the weekend, the fraternities and sororities on campus competed against each other in a variety of events. Although we had never come close to winning before, our numbers had swollen to almost forty, and a few of us were even marginally athletic. There was an air of subdued confidence around the house.

"The first item on the agenda," Tom said as he opened the brothers meeting the week before Greek Weekend, "is to select a Greek God and Goddess for the contest on Friday night."

"Well, I may be going way out on a limb," Johnny Mass said, "but I would like to nominate Jason Mason for Greek God."

The room erupted to a mix of cheers and laughter.

"I second the nomination," Mike said.

"Well, what do you think about it, Jason?" Tom asked.

"What the fuck?" Jason replied. "It sounds like fun. Besides, all the assholes around campus are probably going to be taking this thing seriously. So we'll show them that we have a sense of humor. The only question remains, who will be my Goddess? . . . I would like to nominate Jake's girlfriend, Sarah. Do I hear any seconds?"

"Not in your wildest dreams, Jay," I smiled. "There is no way in hell she would do it. I'd never even ask her."

"Well, if we are going to make a joke out of this whole thing," Dennis said, "then why don't we go all the way. You guys remember last Halloween when I dressed up as a chick; I don't think I was bad looking at all."

"I nominate Dennis O'Malley for Greek Goddess!" George immediately shouted.

"I second it," Gary added.

"Boy," Tom said, trying to hold back a smile, "I really hope you guys know what you're doing. The next item on the agenda is our final party. Like usual, we're going to hold it on the last day of classes, which is the Thursday after next, I believe. While I may be a little biased because it's my last semester, I would really like to see this party be the best one we ever threw. We have a big surplus in the budget and I think we should go all out. What do you guys think?"

"I agree," Gary said. "As social chairman, I have been talking to some of the guys about it, and I've put together some good ideas. One, I think we should have the whole party outside, with the house reserved for brothers and hot-looking chicks. The house is in bad enough shape already without having it ravaged by hundreds of students. Besides, I don't think anyone wants to clean the house the following day. There's plenty of space outside and it'll certainly be warm enough. Secondly, I've contacted some companies, and I found out that we can arrange to have a couple of beer trucks come to the house at a very reasonable price. I figure we'd order about two dozen kegs of beer. We can even sell T-shirts and get a couple of Porta-Johns. But the highlight of the evening I think will definitely be the wet T-shirt contest at the stroke of midnight."

"That's great, Gary," Tom said. "Let's get together after the meeting and discuss a budget. I guess you're going to need a lot of help with organizing this?"

"Without question. If anyone has some free time, please let me know after the meeting."

"Okay, then. I guess the last order of business will be selecting a new president. It's been a great honor for me serving as the president of this chapter for the past three years, but as I will be graduating (God willing), we need to vote for a new president. We have two candidates: Brian and Pete. Each of them will give a short speech, and then, by secret ballot, we will vote."

During the few weeks prior to the election, there had been a lot of tension between Pete and Brian. In spite of their extremely differing political views, they had been good friends since freshman year. Brian, in fact, had nominated Pete to become a brother. However, both of them wanted to become president, and Brian was especially upset that Pete was running against him.

"I can't believe that jerk," I overheard Brian saying one evening at the Black Rooster. "He knew for a long time that I wanted to run for the presidency. You know, I really considered Pete to be one of my best friends. Let me tell you, we got into a big fight when I found out he was running. I just don't understand why he's doing this when he knows how important it is to me."

Before the speeches, Tom flipped a coin to decide who would speak first, and Pete won.

"I have been a brother now for the last two years," he began, "and during those two years, I have seen some amazing things. You know, I remember coming here to my first rush party when this was still a relatively small, little-known fraternity on campus. In fact, I still remember walking into the house for the very first time and seeing beer shoot through Jake's nose while he was doing an inverted beer bong. Well, we've grown to become one of the biggest and best houses on campus, and I think the main reason has been the quality of the individuals here and the true sense of brotherhood felt among us. As your president, I would strive to continue the growth, but at the same time, make certain that we don't become so large that we lose what has made this such a wonderful house. Thank you."

Brian then stood up to give his speech.

"I would first like to reiterate what Pete was saying," he began. "What really makes this fraternity great is the people. Unlike every other fraternity on campus, it's impossible to categorize us. We are the perfect example of how the whole can greatly exceed the sum of all parts. As president, I would work to make sure our fraternity continues to attract the best people on campus. Of course, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to replace all the great guys we are losing this semester. Thanks."

After we voted, the ballots were counted in the back room. A few minutes later, Tom and a couple of the other house officers came back into the main room.

"It was a very close vote, guys," Tom said. "But unfortunately someone has to win and someone has to lose. . . . Your next president is Brian."

Pete quickly stood up and was the first person to congratulate Brian.

"You know, I hope we can put everything behind us now," Pete said.

"Absolutely," Brian replied. "In fact, I'm really sorry that I got pissed off at you, buddy."

"Forget it. Just don't try to instill your left-wing, pinko values into the house. Otherwise, I'm going to be calling for an impeachment hearing."

The following Friday night, as I walked into the Marvin Center, it looked as if the Greek God/Goddess competition was just about to begin.

"Hey, I just got out of class," I said to George when I finally found where everyone was standing. "How's it going? How are we looking?"

"Jake, man," he replied, "wait until you get a look at them. I don't know who's funnier: Jay, who is wearing a tiny little toga that shows off his manly ninety-seven-pound physique; or Dennis. Let me tell you, Dennis is one ugly-looking broad. She, I mean he, looks like one of those chicks from the Monty Python flicks. And they're both wearing bright red lipstick. You know, if this contest was based solely on looks, we would win hands down."

Moments later, the MC, a short, balding man in his mid-thirties, came on stage and began introducing the contestants.

"And now," he said mid-way through the introductions, "representing Tau Mu: Jason and Dennis. Oh, excuse me. That must be a misprint. Here's Jason and Denise."

Six toga-clad brothers, using a large block of wood with makeshift handles, then carried Jason and Dennis on their backs onto the stage. During this we all screamed, "Tau Mu!" over and over again at the tops of our lungs.

For the talent portion of the contest, Dennis did a sexy striptease to the music of "Sweet Georgia Brown." Jason followed him by playing air guitar and lip synching to Bonjovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name." Toward the end of the song, however, Jason's toga accidentally slipped off, and he had to finish the song wearing nothing but his tiny red Jockey shorts.

After the talent portion of the contest, there was a question-and-answer session.

"You know, I must say, Dennis, you are one beautiful woman," the MC joked before asking Dennis his question. "Do you have any plans for after the show?"

"I'm going to be waiting for you. You sexy man, you."

"Oh, I can't wait. Okay, Dennis, here's your question: what is your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

Dennis thought about it for a few seconds before a smile suddenly came across his face.

"Vagggggggiiiiiiiiiiiina!" he hollered.

The entire room erupted into laughter, outside of a few sororities in the front of the hall. Most of them seemed confused by his response.

"Interesting answer," the MC grimaced. "You must be a real fun date. Now, Jason, here's your question: you find a gerbil on your front door step. What do you do with it?"

Jason thought carefully about the question before he finally answered.

"Okay, this is what I'd do. First, I'd put him in the freezer until he was completely frozen. And then, I'd shove him up President Elliot's butt!"

"You know, I bet you had a lot of pets as a child, didn't you, Jason?" the MC joked.

"Well, a few. However, for some reason, none of them seemed to live very long."

At the end of the evening, the judges talked among themselves for a few minutes before the MC returned to announce their decision.

"Well," he said, "our judges had a really tough time this evening deciding. All the contestants were excellent, but in the end, only three couples can win. . . . In third place, representing Alpha Omega sorority: Bill Watson and Wendy Marsh. . . . In second place, representing Zeta Beta Tau fraternity: Josh Bloomberg and Jennifer Schwartz. . . . And finally, in first place, what we've all been waiting for, representing Tau Mu fraternity: Jason Mason and Dennis O'Malley! Congratulations to both of you!"

Even before the MC completed his sentence, we began cheering wildly. In all the years that I had been a brother, we had never won anything. And now, not only had we won the most important event of Greek Weekend, we had a good chance to win the whole competition as well. After all the contestants walked off, Pete jumped onto the stage carrying our large fraternity flag. For at least ten minutes he led us in a wild cheer as he frenziedly waved the flag with one arm.

The following afternoon, the remainder of the events took place, and they varied from a tug-of-war contest to a game of Trivial Pursuit. As a number of the events ran concurrently, occasionally we could not always field the best people for each event. Such was the case when it came time to play touch football. Although Johnny Mass, Ryan, and Tall Paul were available, the team had to be rounded out with me and Gumby.

During the game, each side had one drive to score, and if both teams scored on their possession, the game would continue until one team scored and the other team did not. While our opponents easily scored on their second play from scrimmage, the first three passes we threw were incomplete.

"Jake, you're going to be the key to this next play," Johnny said to me in the huddle before our final play. "Success or failure will rest solely on your shoulders. Go deep--I'll fake it to you."

While we were not so successful in touch football, we were doing well in the other events. In the end, it came down to the final event--the tug-of-war, which pitted the top two teams in the competition, ZBT and us.

A few minutes before the match, the entire fraternity huddled around Tom.

"This is it, guys," he said. "I've been waiting four fucking years for this moment. This is our chance to show everyone that we're the best fraternity on campus. Are you with me?"

The ten guys we selected took their places. It was a grueling fight, but we were finally able to pull it out. All of us then piled on to each other, celebrating a victory that only a few years earlier would have seemed ridiculous to consider.

"You know, I really have to tell you something," I said to Tom after everyone calmed down a bit. "Even if we had lost, we would still be the best fraternity on campus."

"I know that, Jake," he replied. "But I had to get them psyched up."

After we celebrated for a few hours, I decided to visit Sarah.

"We won! We won!" I screamed as I staggered into her room.

"What did you win?" she condescendingly asked.

"We won Greek Weekend!"

"Oh, yippee! And what does that mean?"

"It means that . . . we won Greek Weekend!"

"Oh, my God, Jake! You're so drunk!"

"Yeah?" I replied as I clumsily grabbed her and put my arms around her. "And you're so beautiful. The only difference is, tomorrow I'll be sober, and you'll still be beautiful."

The next morning, while Sarah and I were having breakfast together, I told her about the upcoming party.

"You know, you just might want to come to this one, as it's going to be our last party of the year," I said to her as we finished eating. "You wouldn't want to say that you went to school here and never went to a single Tau Mu party, would you?"

"Heaven forbid!" she cried.

"Seriously, Sarah, this is going to be one incredible party. We're even going to have beer trucks and Porta-Johns."

"Wow! Maybe I should rent an evening gown."

"And the best part is, the best part is that we're going to have a wet T-shirt contest at midnight."

"A wet T-shirt contest? Oh, Jake--that's so gross! Why just settle for a wet T-shirt contest? Why don't you guys sacrifice a virgin while you're at it?"

"You know what, that's really not a bad idea. The problem would be of course, finding a virgin on campus. So, then I guess we shouldn't expect that you'll be competing, eh?"

Later that evening, I went to my final brothers meeting, but there was not much to discuss other than the party, apart from the seniors getting a chance to say their final words.

"I would just like to say what a great four years it has been," George began when it was his turn to speak. "You know, it's hard to believe that four years have already passed. I remember meeting Jake and Gary the day I arrived, just like it was yesterday. Maybe it's because I've been drunk so much during the past few years that everything else is just a blur. Anyway, I would also like to say, without any doubt, the best thing I did during these past years was join this fraternity."

"Hey, George," Johnny Mass interrupted, "what about getting laid in front of the Washington Monument?"

"Okay, so maybe this was the second best thing I've done. . . . Oh, and I have some great news, guys. Believe it or not, I'm actually graduating on time. I'll still have to make up a couple of courses during the summer, but they're letting me go to the graduation ceremony."

As I was sitting next to George, I spoke next.

"Like George, I would like to say what a great experience this has been for me. Four years ago, I never imagined that I would join a fraternity. And now, I can't imagine what school would have been like if I hadn't. Not only have I had such a great time, but I can't even begin to count the amount of beer I've drunk. You know, I really wish that it didn't have to end so soon. In retrospect, maybe I should have failed a few courses."

When Joey's turn came, he looked a little upset.

"I have a small announcement to make," he said. "Beth and I have decided not to go out anymore."

"What does that mean?" Johnny asked. "Does that mean you guys are just going to stay in?"

"No, Johnny. It means that I'm going to kick your fucking wise ass! That's what it means."

"Oh. Well, if you're going to kick my fucking wise ass with those big old boots you're wearing, I'd better go upstairs and get some padding."

On the night of the party, it was clear from the beginning that it was going to be a huge success. By ten, the grounds of the house were packed with people.

"This is going to be the best party this university has seen in years," Gary said to me on the house steps. "At the pace we are going, even with the twenty-four kegs we ordered, we'll be out of beer by midnight. Don't worry though. I saved a couple of kegs just for us."

Inside the house, Sanjay as usual was blasting dance music on his large stereo.

"I want to dedicate this next song to Brother George DePalma," he said into his microphone as a song ended. "He surprised all of us, including himself, by graduating almost on time. That's something I certainly can't say. This song is for you, Dee."

Sanjay then began playing Kiss' "Rock and Roll All Night."

"DJ Sanjay, thank you!" George drunkenly screamed.

He then stumbled toward Gary and me and put his arms around us.

"Guys, I'm so psyched right now. I'm graduating, I have an incredible girlfriend, and best of all, I belong to the best fucking fraternity on campus. You know, this house is just the epitome of kidz!"

"No, Dee," Gary replied, "you're the epitome of kidz!"

At 11:30, as the beer began to run out, Gary and Clayton decided that it would be a good time to start preparing for the wet T-shirt contest.

"You know, it's pretty cold tonight, guys," I said. "Especially for the first of May. Do you still want to have the contest?"

"Are you kidding, Jake?" Clayton indignantly replied. "You couldn't ask for better weather for a wet T-shirt contest than this. It will almost certainly add an extra dimension to the contest."

Clayton and Gary then methodically walked through the crowd looking for potential contestants, and after they signed up about a dozen women, we took them to Gary's room to change. Suddenly, while the three of us were waiting for them outside Gary's room, we heard loud sirens coming from outside.

I quickly walked out to the front steps, and I saw five or six police cars parking in front of the house.

"This party is over," one of the policemen said as he walked up to the house lawn after blowing his whistle. "Anyone who doesn't live at this house has to leave immediately."

"What's the problem, Officer?" Clayton asked. "I don't understand why you're shutting down the party."

"Well, we've had a complaint from one of the neighbors that someone at the party is throwing rocks at their window. We've also gotten a lot of complaints about the noise, so we're closing the party down. Right now!"

Everyone began quickly, though reluctantly, walking away.

"This is fucking bullshit!" Little Paul screamed. "I know our rights. They can't fucking do this!"

"Hey, asshole!" a large policeman shouted at Paul. "Do you have a fucking problem? How would you like to spend the rest of the evening at the station?"

"No, sir," Paul softly replied. "I have no problem at all."

"Good, then get the fuck out of here!"

Paul then dejectedly walked into the house.

"Well, I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one evening," he whispered as he passed us at the front door. "I'm going to bed."

Gary, Clayton, and I then walked upstairs to tell the girls the bad news.

"What's happening?" one of the girls asked as she and the other contestants gingerly walked out of Gary's room.

"Sorry, guys," Gary said, "but the police just shut the party down. That means the contest is canceled. But you can keep the T-shirts if you want.

"Keep the T-shirts?" the girl said. "Hey, I want to win that fifty dollars you promised me. Do you want me to take off my T-shirt right here in front of you? 'Cause I'll do it."

"No, I don't want you to take off your T-shirt right here in front of me. Believe me, there's nothing you've got that I haven't seen already. Like I said, I'm really sorry, but there is simply not going to be a contest tonight, period."

"Have you completely lost your mind, man?" Clayton screamed at Gary as the girls started walking down the stairs. "Hey, girls! Wait up! I'm certain we can work something out."

About an hour later, after everything finally settled down, I looked outside and saw Clayton quietly standing in the front yard by himself, holding the leaking hose that he had been personally planning to use during the contest. I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Jake," he said to me, almost weeping, "do you have any idea what it's like to be so close to something really special, and then, at the very last moment, have it taken away from you?"

"It'll be okay, big guy," I replied. "Why don't you let me buy you a beer."

22

2006-05-27T10:56:00.000-07:00

22

Dropping Trou

WHEN Sarah told me that her parents were taking her to Acapulco for the week of spring break, I tentatively planned to go back to Fort Lauderdale on my last spring break. During a brothers meeting in late March though, Ryan, one of the new brothers, made an offer that immediately intrigued me.

"I don't know if anyone is interested," he said, "but I'm the campus representative for a company offering bus transportation and hotel accommodation in Daytona Beach during spring break. I've already got almost ten people signed up, including myself and a couple of buddies of mine from the Army. I think that the price is pretty reasonable and I'm sure it'll be a really wild time, so please let me know this week if you would like to go."

I thought about it for a day before I signed up. I then told Dennis that I would not be going back to Fort Lauderdale.

"I hope you guys aren't going to be too pissed off," I said.

"Not at all," he replied. "I just don't understand why you don't want to come with us. We had such a great time last year."

"Well, to be honest, Dennis, I really didn't have all that great of a time last year. Apart from the Arkansas thing, of course. Anyway, I would just like to try something different this year."

"Well, we'll definitely miss you, Jake, but it won't be a problem for us. We already have a number of guys interested in coming. In fact, we'll probably have six people this year."

"You're going to fit six people in your car?"

"I must admit that it'll probably be a little tight, but somehow we'll manage it. The real problem is going to be with the room. You know, I've already reserved the same motel room as last year, and you remember how cramped it was just for the five of us. I think this 'brotherhood' thing just might get pushed a little too far."

On the first day of spring break, just before midnight, I walked to Twenty-first and H Street to catch the bus to Daytona Beach. As I turned the corner, I saw about a half-dozen people waiting, including Ryan and his two friends. Ryan, due to his stay in the Army, was a few years older than me even though he was only a sophomore. At 6 feet 3 inches and 220 pounds, he was the largest guy in the fraternity outside of Joey.

"Hi," I said as I walked up to him.

"Hey, Jake," he replied. "Let me introduce you to my friends, Bill and Rick."

As big as Ryan was, Bill and Rick, who were both still serving in the Army, were even bigger.

"All four of us are going to share a room together," Ryan said. "It's going to be a great time."

Ten minutes later, the bus came. As it had already stopped at a number of universities by the time it got to GW, it was almost completely full by the time we came on board. Luckily, there were still four seats free together in the back, so we were able to sit together.

"So, you guys served in the Army together," I said after the bus left.

"That's right," Ryan replied. "We were in Special Forces together about three years ago. Both Bill and Rick are career guys. Boy, do they have some really great stories to tell. Hey, guys, do you mind if I tell Jake what your assignment was after Special Forces?"

"Sure, why not," Bill answered. "I'm not ashamed about it."

"Both Bill and Rick were on Oliver North's staff."

"You're kidding!" I said. "What was that like? Did you guys get into any trouble?"

"No, not at all," Bill replied. "To be honest, we really didn't know anything about the shit that was going on. The Colonel wanted it that way. The fewer people who know about an operation like that, the better. The one thing I will say though, I never served under a better officer. Let me tell you, those fucking hearings last year were a total farce. I'm certain when the entire truth comes out, and believe me it will, he'll be completely exonerated. He'll even be considered a hero."

"So what do you guys do now?" I asked.

"Well, we both work in the White House," Rick answered.

"Really? What kind of things do you do there?"

"It's top secret. We'd tell you, but then we would have to kill you. And that would be rather unfortunate."

"You're joking, right?"

"They're not joking," Ryan smiled. "I don't even know what they're up to."

Early the following afternoon, the bus finally arrived at the hotel in Daytona Beach. We soon found out, however, that it was overbooked and that the four of us were part of the group of people who would be bumped.

"What the fuck is going on here, Jill?" Ryan angrily asked the tour director. "I had a block of rooms reserved over a month ago."

"Calm down," she replied. "It doesn't matter what reservations you made. Check the fine print of your contract: reservations are not guaranteed. The reason is that there is no way for us to know exactly how many people will actually show up. So, we overbook. However, we're going to put you guys in a really nice Day's Inn, just down the road."

"A Day's Inn? You've got to be kidding! I reserved this hotel! Day's Inns are all cheap fucking holes!"

"Listen, I understand that you're upset. But honestly, believe it or not, I'm really not trying to jew you guys. There is nothing else I can do. Besides, the Day's Inn is not a bad hotel at all. And it's right on the beach, just like this one."

We reluctantly got back on the bus and they took us to the Day's Inn, only a few minutes up the strip.

"This is not a bad place at all," I said to Ryan as we walked into our room. "In fact, this is a hell of a lot nicer than the motel in Fort Lauderdale where I stayed last year."

After we unpacked, Ryan and I went to a liquor store to buy some beer.

"We're probably not going to need to buy a whole lot of beer this week," Ryan said. "Neither Bill or Rick drink at all. And to be honest, I'm actually kind of glad they don't drink. They're so fucking wild when they're sober, who knows what they would be like if they were ever drunk."

When we returned to the room, Bill and Rick were standing on the balcony, shouting at people on the street.

"Drop trou!" they kept screaming, over and over.

"Drop trou?" I said. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What?" Rick replied, as if I asked a stupid question. "You don't listen to the Greaseman?"

"Not really."

"Well, 'drop trou' is short for dropping trousers. Obviously, none of these dumb bimbos have any clue what we're saying either. But you know what, that makes it even funnier."

A little later that day, the four of us went to dinner at a small Italian restaurant just down the street from the hotel. It served all-you-can-eat spaghetti for only six dollars. After we each ordered our fifth plate, though, the waitress seemed a little annoyed.

"Are you guys eating the spaghetti or inhaling it?" she asked as she walked back to the kitchen.

"I don't know about you guys," Bill said after he loudly belched, "but I'm going to eat here every day. Between this and the continental breakfast they're serving in the hotel, I'm going to be almost set as far as chow goes."

After we returned to the hotel, we walked around the hallway and met some of the other students staying on the floor. The entire hotel, if not most of the city, seemed to consist solely of college students. On our floor most of the students were from Southwest Kentucky State, including the three blonde girls staying next door to us.

"Is it me," Bill asked after we returned to our room, "or is every chick on this floor a blonde?"

"The question really is," Ryan said, "how many of them are really blondes?"

"Well, my friend, that's a question that all four of us need to answer this week."

That evening, we left our door open in hope that some of the women on the floor might stop by, but the first person to visit was a stupid-looking drunk guy.

"Hi, I'm Deke," he slurred as he stumbled into our room. "I'm from Louisville."

"That's pretty funny," Ryan whispered to me. "You'd think that someone from Louisville would know that you are not supposed to pronounce the 's.' "

"Hey, did you guys see the basketball game on TV?" Deke asked. "We really kicked some fucking ass today. I tell you, this is going to be our year. Louisville is going to take the title; 'specially with the way Never Nervous Pervis is playing. He's my hero."

"So, I guess you go to Louisville?" I asked.

"Nope. Couldn't get into Louisville. Unfortunately, they has very high academic standards there. However, if I keep my grades up at Southwest Kentucky State, maybe there's a chance that one day I be able to transfer there. It's my dream."

A few minutes later, our next-door neighbors walked in and introduced themselves.

"How y'all doing tonight?" Bambi, the tallest and best looking of the three asked.

"Why don't you girls drop trou!" Bill yelled.

"Excuse me?" she cried. "Drop trou? What in the world does that mean?"

Bill and Rick briefly looked at each other before they pulled their shorts down to their ankles. Neither of them were wearing underwear.

"Oh, my God!" Tracy, the shortest and the least attractive of the three shouted. "I'm out of here. Come on, girls!"

Pam, also not particularly attractive, waited behind a few moments before leaving. As she left, she put her hand on Bill's face and blushed.

"You're cute, stud," she whispered. "I'll definitely be seeing you later."

After she left, the four of us looked at each other and smiled.

"Do you think any of those girls have an IQ above 100?" I asked.

"I'm not interested in their IQs, Jake," Bill replied. "I'm just interested in shooting my hot spunk all over them. You know, I bet you that Pam chick is a real nasty little pig. She probably wouldn't even mind doing a little golden showers."

The next morning after breakfast, while we were waiting for the elevator, four guys from down the hall joined us.

"Hey, fellows," Bill said as we all stepped into the elevator together, "did you hear what happened last night?"

"What was that?" one of them asked.

"Some guy on the fifth floor brought a goat into the hotel. And he was screwing it right in the hallway."

"You must be shitting! We didn't hear about that. But I can sure believe it. This place is just crazy."

When we returned to the room, Bill and Rick started chuckling.

"Boy, those guys from down the hall are real dopes," Bill said. "Hey, Rick, do you want to have some fun with them?"

Bill then took two small plastic bags from out of his duffel bag and filled them both with water, before the two of them slowly walked down the hallway and knocked on the guys' door. As soon as the door opened, Bill and Rick threw the water-filled bags into the room and quickly ran back.

"Those fucking assholes!" I heard one of the four shout. "This is war!"

About five minutes later, a surge of water came rushing under our door. Almost half the carpet was entirely soaked.

"Those morons don't know who they're fucking with," Bill said. "Sergeant, I think you know what is in order right now."

Without any further explanation, Rick walked into the bathroom, and without closing the door, pulled down his pants, sat down on the toilet, and started groaning. After he finished, the two of them each scooped pieces of feces from the toilet bowl into another two plastic bags.

"They're completely out of their minds," I whispered to Ryan after they ran out. "I'm real glad that they are on our side."

"Now just imagine," Ryan smiled, "how wild they would be right now if they were drinking."

After Bill and Rick threw the feces at the door, they quickly ran back to our room.

"Jesus Christ!" we heard one of the guys shout. "They're throwing shit at us. Now what do we do?"

Early that afternoon, as we walked to the beach, Bill and Rick screamed, "Drop trou!" to just about every good-looking girl we passed, and almost universally got blank stares in return.

"They're not going to get tired of saying that, are they?" I asked Ryan.

"It's highly doubtful," he replied.

After we found a spot on the beach, the three of them went to play soccer. As I was tanning myself, two young guys wearing dark blue suits walked up to me and sat down.

"What the hell are they thinking?" I thought.

"Hello, friend," one of them said. "How are you doing today?"

"Great," I replied. "Hey, aren't you guys a little hot?"

"No, not really. We wear these suits all the time, so we're pretty much used to the heat. You don't mind if we talk to you for a few minutes, do you?"

"No, not at all."

"Can we ask you what your relationship is with our Lord, Jesus Christ?"

"Well, I'm Jewish. And to be honest, I don't even really follow that."

"Jewish? Wow, that's pretty interesting. You know, there are a lot of similarities between our religions."

"Well, that's probably due to Jesus being Jewish."

"Perhaps, but--"

Before he could finish his sentence, Ryan sat down next to me and interrupted him.

"Hey, why don't you guys get the fuck out of here!" he said nastily. "He doesn't want to be fucking proselytized. In fact, I would bet that no one here wants to listen to your bullshit. We're all here to have a good time."

"Excuse me, sir," the guy said as he turned toward me, "but was I bothering you?"

"Not really."

"Well, you're bothering me," Ryan said. "Now, get lost!"

"Excuse me, friend," the guy said to me as they both got up, "do you think that maybe we could talk again sometime later this week?"

"Well, it's up to you. But if you are looking for a convert, you'll be wasting your time, believe me."

Even after they left, Ryan was still mad.

"You know, I really hate assholes like that," he said. "I mean, I consider myself a good Christian and all, but it's my personal choice. I don't try to push it on anybody else. And what a bunch of fucking idiots they are, walking around the beach in suits. Do they really think that's going to impress anyone? If you ask me, I think they look like fools."

That evening, about half an hour after we went to sleep, there was a knock on the door. Ryan slowly crawled out of bed and opened the door. Bambi, who was obviously drunk, stumbled in.

"Drop trou, y'all!" she screamed. She then pulled up her skirt and quickly pulled down her panties.

"What the fuck?" Bill screamed as he woke up.

"Excuse me, boys," she said. "Do you mind if I use your phone?"

Without waiting for an answer, she sat down on my bed and began making a call. Bill, who was lying on the opposite bed, jumped up and briefly glared at her.

"That's it," he finally said. "Now, I'm pissed!"

He then pulled off his underwear, jumped back on the bed, and did a hand stand against the wall. Moments later, he started doing one-handed inverted pushups; and with his free hand he began furiously masturbating in the direction of Bambi.

"What the hell is he doing?" she screamed at me as she put the phone down.

I could not answer her, as I was doubled over in hysterical laughter.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen!" she cried as she stormed out of the room.

"I can't believe you did that," I said to Bill after she left, still unable to control my laughter.

"I'm sorry, guys. I just couldn't help myself. She really pissed me off."

Late the following afternoon, almost as soon as we returned from the beach, there was a knock on the door. When Bill opened the door, we saw two men, both of whom had badges.

"Hello, gentlemen," one of them said. "My name is Detective Davis and this is Detective Conners. Do you mind if we have a word with you?"

Bill showed them in and we sat down together.

"Do you guys know a Tracy Roberts?" Detective Davis began. "She is staying in the room next to yours."

"Yes," Ryan replied. "But not all that well."

"Well, this morning she reported a valuable piece of jewelry stolen, a pearl necklace. And we would like to talk to you about it. However, if you would prefer, we could ask you these questions in front of an attorney."

"That won't be necessary," Bill said. "We don't have anything to hide."

"Good. Then Detective Conners will read you your rights."

The young detective took out a card from his jacket pocket and read from it.

"Now," Detective Davis continued after our rights were read, "can I get all of your names and addresses please? You're all college students, is that correct?"

"No, sir," Bill replied. "Ryan and Jake here go to George Washington University, but Rick and I are both sergeants in the Army. We're currently stationed in the White House. We're friends of Ryan."

Detective Davis wrote all our names and addresses down in his notepad.

"Guys," he continued, "I'm going to be very direct with you. Miss Roberts thinks that you guys stole her necklace. She has no proof, though, of course. If she did, this discussion would be taking place at the police station."

"If she has no proof, then why is she accusing us?" Rick asked.

"She said that you guys are completely out of control--"

"That's bullshit!" Bill interrupted. "Excuse my language, sir. Both Rick and I have very high-pressured jobs, and because of it, we may have let our hair down a little this week. But there is a huge difference between being a little wild and doing something illegal."

"Well, like I said before," Detective Davis said as he and the other detective stood up, "I have no proof of anything. For all I know, the thief could be someone who isn't even staying at the hotel. Hell, Miss Roberts could have simply misplaced the item. Just do me a favor though. I will leave my card here. If you guys hear anything, give me a call. I'd really appreciate it."

The two detectives shook our hands and left.

"What a bitch!" Bill screamed. "Accusing us of stealing her shit. What the fuck? You know, I think I'm going to tell her off right now."

"Wait a minute," Ryan said as he grabbed Bill by the shoulder. "I don't think that would be such a good idea. That's probably what she would like you to do. She's just trouble. Forget it. Don't make things worse than they already are."

Later that evening, while I was sitting in the room watching television, Pam walked in.

"Howdy," she said. "Where is everyone?"

"Well, I'm not really sure where Ryan and Rick are," I answered, "but Bill is in the shower. You know, I'm kind of surprised to see you here."

"Why is that?"

"Well, we had a visit this afternoon from the police. It seems that your roommate accused us of stealing her jewelry."

"Oh, don't worry about her; she's crazy. I know you fellows didn't take it. I don't even understand why she brought it here in the first place. For some stupid reason she thinks that she's going to meet Prince Charming here in Daytona Beach. Sure, that'll happen. Now, me on the other hand, I'm just looking for Mr. Goodbar. Speaking of which, hey, Bill: what the fuck are you doing in there?"

Without knocking, she stormed into the bathroom.

"I hope you're ready, Bill," she said, " 'cause I'm dropping trou right now as I speak." She then pulled down her panties and sat down on the toilet. "I'm waiting for you, you big stud!"

"Oh, my God!" Bill screamed as he peeked his head out from behind the shower curtain. "Bitch, can't you see that I'm taking a fucking shower?"

"Oh, I like it when you call me names. You know, I've been a real bad little girl, and I think I should be punished."

At that moment, I decided that it was probably a good time for me to get a little fresh air. When I returned to the room about an hour later, the door was wide open, so I thought it would be safe to enter. When I walked inside however, I saw Bill and Pam lying on the floor together. Pam, who was wearing only a skirt, was frantically pleasuring Bill with her hand.

"Sorry for interrupting, guys," I apologized as I quickly backed out of the room.

A few minutes later, while I was talking to a couple of people in the hallway, Pam walked out of the room. We soon began staring at the thick streams of semen that were dripping down her faded denim skirt, and she became very embarrassed. While at first she tried rubbing it off, she eventually just ran into her room.

"Well, someone had a good time this evening," I said to Bill as I walked into our room.

"Why?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? You just yummied all over that chick's skirt!"

"Oh, that was nothing."

"So why didn't you fuck her? She was obviously willing."

"You must be joking. Fuck that warthog? She should be thankful that I even let her whack me off."

The remainder of the week was fairly uneventful and relaxing, and I even got something that resembled a tan.

"This has been a good week, guys," I said as we were packing to leave.

As we had to check out of the hotel four hours before the bus came, we spent the afternoon in the lobby watching the NCAA basketball semifinals on television. While I was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper, I felt someone grab me from behind. I looked up and saw Pam. She then put her arms around me and started softly rubbing her face around the back of my head.

"Oh, Jake," she cooed, "I really should've went after you. I always pick the wrong guy."

Just then, I heard something fall out of her purse. I looked down and saw a beautiful pearl necklace lying on the ground. She quickly picked up the necklace and stuffed it back into her purse. Her face was bright red.

"Jake, why don't we just keep this our little secret, okay?"

When the bus finally arrived, we did not look happy.

"You know, I really can't say that I'm looking forward to the next twenty hours," I said as we stepped onto the bus.

At about sunset, I dozed off, but I was woken up a few hours later when I heard Ryan screaming at someone.

"Fuck you!" he shouted at one of the bus drivers.

"One more word out of you," the bus driver said, "just one more word, mister. And we're going to stop the bus and throw you off."

"I'd like to see you try, motherfucker!"

"That's it. You're out of here!"

"Ryan, what the fuck is going on?" I asked.

"The fucking bus driver smelled someone smoking pot, and he accused me. It wasn't me though, it was one of those assholes over there."

"So now you're getting thrown off the bus?"

"I guess it looks like it, doesn't it. You know, I have almost no money left; I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Don't worry, Ryan," Bill said. "We'll go with you. We'll figure something out."

"I guess I'll go with you, too," I said.

"Really?" Ryan said. "But why? I'm the one who fucked up."

"It doesn't matter," I replied. "We're brothers."

A few minutes later, about thirty miles from Savannah, Georgia, the bus pulled off the highway. As we stepped off the bus, we saw a police car waiting for us.

"I hope they're not going to arrest me," Ryan said.

The bus driver then opened the trunk so we could take our bags off.

"I don't understand why you guys are getting off," the driver said. "You're not being thrown off."

"If Ryan goes, so do we," Bill replied.

As the bus drove off, all the four of us could do was stare at it.

"Okay, fellows," the sheriff said after he stepped out of his car, "I'm going to take you to a motel just down the road. In the morning, maybe you can pay the manager to drive you to the airport, or wherever else you want to go."

After he dropped us off in front of the motel, we slowly walked inside.

"Boy," I whispered, "this place is like the Bates Motel."

Once inside, we rang the bell for the manager.

"Good evening, gentlemen," the manager said as he stepped out of the back room. "My name is Hari. What can I do for you?"

"Hey, he's Indian," Ryan whispered to me. "Do you think that he could be related to Sanjay? Maybe he would give us a good deal."

"Ryan," I whispered back, "you do realize that there are over a billion Indians in the world, don't you?"

"Well, it couldn't hurt to ask."

Although Hari was not related to Sanjay, he did agree to drive us to the airport the following morning for thirty dollars.

"So what are we going to do tomorrow, guys?" Ryan asked after we put our bags down inside the crumbling motel room.

"Maybe we can rent a car," I said. "It's got to be cheaper than four airplane tickets."

"Yeah, but we'll need a credit card."

"Well, I have my father's credit card. I'm supposed to use it only in an emergency, but I think this could be construed as an emergency. I should call him, but I bet it'll cost a fortune to make a long-distance call from here. That is, if we can do it at all."

"Don't worry about that," Bill said.

He then picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Fox 37934-niner," he said a few seconds later. "Clearance 5678, code 12. Hey, what's the number, Jake?"

After repeating the number I gave him, he handed me the receiver.

"Where are you?" my father screamed. "What happened? Oy, veh! Okay, Jacob, go ahead and use the credit card. But you're going to have to work it off at the store this summer."

"It's okay, guys," I said after I hung up. "We can use the credit card."

The following morning, as soon as we woke up, Hari dropped us off at the airport. Unfortunately, because we were all under twenty-five, it was difficult to rent a car. After a lot of haggling, we were finally able to get a car at the unbelievable rate of two hundred and fifty dollars per day, including the one-way drop-off fee.

"Wow," I said as we stepped into the car, "maybe it would have been cheaper to fly."

Late that evening, when we finally made it to Washington, we dropped Bill and Rick off in front of their apartment.

"Ryan, in spite of everything, I had a great time," Bill said.

"Yeah, me too," Rick added. "It's really too bad about what happened. But hell, it was some adventure, wasn't it? Oh, and it was also really good meeting you too, Jake. Take care of yourself."

We then drove the car to the house.

"I'll drop off the car tomorrow morning at the airport," Ryan said as we parked behind the house. "You know, I can't say how sorry I am about what happened. I'll try to pay you back as soon as possible."

"Don't worry about it. At the very worst, I'll work it off in my father's shoe store this summer. I'll have to sell an awful lot of shoes, though."

"You know, Jake, I want to tell you something. I was really starting to have some serious doubts about our fraternity. I was starting to think that it was nothing more than just a bunch of spoiled rich kids looking for a good time. But you know what? It's not. I realize now that it's a lot more than just that."

21

2006-05-27T10:45:00.000-07:00

21

The Color of Honor

AS I registered for an accounting and an economics course at the beginning of my last semester, I felt more than just a little strange. When I had started college I never thought that I would be taking such courses, but the chance to work at Mr. Goldman's company overwhelmed me.

After I finished registering for classes, I met Sarah for lunch.

"Oh, good choice," she said to me when I told her that I was taking Professor Shea for economics.

"Why is that?" I asked. "Is he a really good teacher?"

"How would I know? I had Professor Dunn. Boy, was he tough. Everyone says though that Shea is an easy A. So you made a good choice."

After lunch, I walked her back to her dorm.

"Hey, we're having our first party of the semester tomorrow night," I said to her on the way. "Would you like to come?"

"You've got to be kidding!" she replied with an almost disgusted look on her face. "You know how I feel about fraternity parties, and you know especially how I feel about your fraternity. My God, Jake, you're twenty-one years old, and in a few months, you're going to graduate. When are you going to grow out of this?"

Sarah had such a strong dislike for the fraternity that not only did she not go to any of the events, she even refused to visit me at the house. Although she never gave me a "fraternity or me" ultimatum, she made it perfectly clear that she would have nothing to do with the fraternity. So, if I wanted to spend time with her, it would have to be with her alone. Because of this, I spent very little time at the house toward the end of the previous semester. As the upcoming semester was going to be my last, though, I firmly decided that I would spend more time at the house, even if it meant spending less time with Sarah.

The following evening, as the party began, I walked into the house just as Gary was coming downstairs.

"Excuse me," he said, "please let me introduce myself. My name is Gary. Are you interested in pledging?"

"Very funny," I said.

"I'm serious, man. We hardly saw you at all last semester. In fact, toward the end, I don't think you even spent any time in your own room."

"It's my girlfriend, Gary. Unfortunately, she really doesn't like the fraternity. For some stupid reason, she thinks that we're anti-Semitic."

"Stupid? It sounds to me like she's very observant. We are anti-Semitic."

"Please, if you ever talk with her, don't even joke about it."

"Talk with her? Hell, I haven't even met the chick. Say, why don't you invite her to one of the events? Like the Semi-formal, for instance. Maybe then, she'll get a chance to know us."

"I've tried. I always ask her to the events. She's simply not interested, period."

Later that evening, while a few of us were talking to each other by the Beermeister, a young black guy walked into the house.

"Hey, what's that nig doing here?" Joey asked.

"Oh, that's Kevin," Mike replied. "He's on the crew team with Brian and the other guys. I just met him at the Rooster the other night, and he seems like a really nice guy."

"He can't be on the crew team," Joey replied. "Everyone knows that nigs can't swim, he-he-he. What happens if the boat capsizes?"

The following Sunday, we voted on pledge bids at the brothers meeting.

When the floor was opened, Jerry, a freshman who had just recently become a brother, raised his hand.

"I would like to nominate Ted Phillips," he said.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Sanjay interrupted as he shook his head, "but I have a problem with this guy. He was at the party the other night and said something to me which I really didn't appreciate. I'm not that sensitive, but this guy really went over the line."

"What did he say?" Jerry asked.

"I really don't think it's necessary to repeat it. The fact is that he pissed me off, and I'm definitely going to vote against him."

"I don't get it! Ted is one of my best friends. I've known him since the beginning of the year. If he said something to you, I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"He meant it all right. There's nothing more to discuss. I'm voting against him."

"This is bullshit! How can you vote against him? He's a good guy. What the hell am I going to tell him?"

"Excuse me for interrupting, Jerry," Tom said, "but if you want to know what to tell this Ted guy, I'll tell you. You tell him fucking nothing! What goes on in this meeting is strictly between us. If Sanjay, or any other brother, votes against him, the only thing you should tell him is that he didn't get a bid. That's all. Is that clear to you?"

When more than half the brothers voted against Ted, it was the first time since I joined the fraternity that someone was actually turned down for a bid.

"Next nomination, please," Tom said.

"I would like to nominate Kevin Robinson," Pete said.

"Wait a minute," Joey interrupted. "You're not talking about that fucking nig who was at the party, are you?"

"No, Joey," Pete replied, "I'm not talking about that fucking nig who was at the party. I'm talking about Kevin--he's a guy from our crew team. Oh, and by the way, Joey, he was at the party, but he's not a fucking nig, he's black. Anyway, I think he'd make an excellent brother."

"I don't know about this, guys," Joey said. "Hey, you know me, I'm all for tolerance. Hell, we've got Hebs, Micks--even a fucking Indian. But I think we need to draw the line somewhere. And, while I can only speak for myself, I want everyone to know that I'm really against allowing this nigger into the fraternity. And I think National would agree with me. It's against everything the fraternity was established for."

"Actually, Joey," Tom interrupted, "that's not true. At least in regards to what National says today. According to the official by-laws, we cannot discriminate against anyone based on skin color, or anything else, for that matter."

"That's not the point!" Brian shouted. "We shouldn't even be having this fucking discussion! Guys, it's 1988, not 1958! How can we really be talking about this crap? Speaking for myself, I find it totally disgusting. The color of someone's skin should not even be an issue. The question should be whether Kevin is a good guy or not. If he's a good guy, he should get a bid. And, Joey, I personally find the 'n' word that you keep using extremely offensive and insulting."

"Hey, look," Joey defensively replied, "I'm not going to make a big issue out of this if I'm truly the only one here that feels this way. And I certainly won't be the only guy to blackball, no pun intended, this kid. There, I said 'kid.' Are you happy, Brian? But let me make a few things perfectly clear. If he becomes a pledge, not only will I resign my duties as the pledge trainer, but I will have nothing to do with him even after he becomes a brother. To me, he'll never be a brother."

When the time finally came for voting, everyone except Joey voted in favor of Kevin. When Tom asked if anyone was against giving Kevin a bid, all eyes were focused on Joey, but he did not raise his hand. He simply abstained. He was obviously upset though, and he did not say another word for the rest of the meeting. It was as if he took the vote in favor of Kevin as a vote against him personally; and not only did he resign from being the pledge trainer, but it seemed as if he were hardly around the house for the next few months.

"I just don't get it," Brian said to me and Tom after the meeting. "Why does he hate black people so much? What could they have possibly done to him?"

"Well, a couple of years ago," Tom replied, "his brother supposedly got beaten up pretty badly by a bunch of black guys. Joey said that he even shot one of them."

"I'm sorry, Tom," Brian said as he shook his head, "but that's not an excuse. Just because a few black guys beat up his brother, it doesn't mean that they're all bad."

As we needed a new pledge trainer, Brian and I volunteered, and a few days before the pledge initiation, the two of us and Tom got together to plan the ceremony.

"I know the initiation ceremony is supposed to be secret," Brian said midway through the meeting, "but maybe we should make an exception this time for Kevin's sake. All that shit about the Confederacy and General Lee just might be a shock to him. Who knows, he could get pissed off and walk out of the ceremony. I know I would . . . probably."

"That's really a good point," Tom said. "But unfortunately, the ceremony has to be kept secret. We simply cannot make an exception for anyone."

"Well, I might have a suggestion," I said. "What if we didn't tell him the specifics of the ceremony, but just let him know about the potentially objectionable subjects?"

"Hmm," Tom said. "That might be pushing the rules just a bit, but it's probably a lot better than having an ugly scene."

So, on the afternoon of the pledge initiation ceremony, the three of us met privately with Kevin in Tom's room.

"First of all, Kevin," Tom began, "I would just like to say that we're very happy that you decided to accept our bid to join the fraternity. We think that you'll make a great addition to the house. You're probably wondering why we asked to meet you here before the ceremony. Well, while we can't go into specific details about what will be going on tonight, we wanted to let you know beforehand that there may be some things said tonight that you could find objectionable."

"Objectionable? Like, what kind of things?"

"Well, what you need to understand is that this fraternity was founded in the South, during the Civil War. And unfortunately, the fraternity ceremonies have remained fairly much the same as they were back then. So, what I'm trying to say to you is, when you pledge tonight, you'll have to make certain vows which you might find objectionable."

"Such as?"

"Such as a vow to the Confederacy."

"What? You've got to be kidding!"

"Unfortunately, I'm not kidding. But just let me say one thing: the ceremony and the other things that this fraternity might have stood for at one time have nothing to do with what it stands for today. Especially this chapter. It's just a ceremony. Hell, there's things that Jake and I probably found objectionable as well. We had to make vows to Christ, and we're both Jewish."

Kevin sat silently for a few moments as he thought about it.

"Well," he finally said, "as long as it is just some silly ceremony. But I want to make one thing clear to you guys right here and now: I'm going to draw the line at cross burnings."

"I think that's fair and reasonable," Tom smiled. "What do you guys think? I think we can certainly excuse Kevin from all our cross-burning activities."

That night, immediately after the ceremony, I walked up to Kevin.

"Congratulations," I said as I shook his hand. "So what did you think? It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No, it wasn't bad at all. Actually, I thought all that stuff about the Confederacy was pretty comical. In fact, I almost had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. You know, you'd think that they would have changed the wording by now."

"From what I understand, they already did change the wording a little. Imagine what it was like before."

About six weeks later, I met Sarah for lunch one afternoon at the Marvin Center cafeteria. While Sarah and I had been having problems from the beginning of the semester, that day things took a dramatic turn from bad to worse.

"You haven't already made plans for the first day of Passover, have you?" she asked me as soon as we sat down.

"Yes," I replied. "I plan on doing nothing. Well, that's not totally truthful. There's going to be a big block party that weekend on fraternity row."

"What do you mean? Are you trying to say that you're not going home for Passover?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I never go home for Passover."

"But my mother was planning on inviting you and your parents for a Seder on the first night of Passover. Then we were all going to go to services together."

"Well, by all means, invite my parents. I'm sure that they'll love to go. But count me out. You know that I'm not interested in those things."

Sarah suddenly became upset, and began to look as if she were going to cry.

"I can't believe you're going to spend Passover with your drunken, racist friends instead of with me. As if it wasn't bad enough all the time you've been spending with them lately."

"Believe me, if it were a question of spending time with you, or my drunken, racist friends, I would definitely choose you. Seders and Temple, however, are something completely different."

After glaring at me for a few seconds, she got up and stormed out of the cafeteria. I ran after her and finally caught up with her in the lobby.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Why are you so upset? It's just one lousy weekend."

"Not to me it's not! Jake, I told you that being Jewish is very important to me. I can see now that you're as anti-Semitic as your friends. You know, you're just like those Jews who worked for the Nazis in the concentration camps."

"Sarah, don't you think that you're exaggerating, just a little bit?"

"It doesn't matter, Jake. You know, I really don't think we should see each other anymore."

"You've got to be kidding! You're going to break up with me because of a stupid thing like this?"

"It's not stupid to me! Frankly, I must have been kidding myself, thinking that your views would change, thinking that you would mature. I know now that you'll never change. Good-bye, Jake."

After she left, I stood in the lobby by myself for a few minutes. I was stunned. She was the girl of my dreams, and somehow I stupidly blew it. During the next few days, I often tried to call her, but she would not even speak to me. I even visited her dorm room a few times, but she just kept telling me to go away.

"Well, I guess it's really over," I thought as I walked back to the house after my third unsuccessful attempt to talk with her in person. "I've got to be the biggest fucking idiot in the world!"

A week later, as I was taking a shower on the morning of the block party, I tried to convince myself that I did not really need her.

"Fuck her!" I said to myself. "She's probably thinking that I'm going to have a real lousy time this weekend. But she's wrong. I'm going to have a good time, even if it kills me. And it just may."

Early that afternoon, just before the block party started, we had a small barbecue lunch behind the house. I decided to celebrate my freedom by making myself a large bacon double cheeseburger.

"Jake," Belinda said, "you're eating a bacon cheeseburger? Isn't today Passover?"

"That's correct, Belinda," I answered. "This is my Passover meal."

"I'm sorry, but I don't get it."

"Honey," Gary whispered to her, "Jake isn't a very good Jew. That's what we love about him."

After lunch, a few of us watched television in the main room while waiting for everyone to get ready for the block party. Just before we left, George came running down the stairs screaming.

"Hey, guys!" he shouted. "Jerry is getting laid on the roof!"

Although Jerry had just recently joined the fraternity, he had already built himself quite a reputation.

"Do you guys want to have some fun?" George asked.

He pulled out about a dozen packages of condoms from his pants pocket and placed them on the coffee table. After he opened one of the packages and started blowing the condom up as if it were a balloon, we followed his lead and then followed him up the staircase to the roof.

At the edge of the roof, I could see Jerry and some girl I did not know having sex. She was on top of him with her back to us, furiously pounding herself onto him as she loudly moaned. When Jerry saw us, he could not help but smile. But when we released our condoms into the air at once, he had to look away in order not to completely break up into laughter. A few moments later, when she finally collapsed on top of him, we quickly ran back downstairs.

No more than five minutes later, the girl calmly walked downstairs to a hail of applause.

"Wow, having sex on the roof of a fraternity house," Johnny Mass said to her as she passed by. "I bet your mommy and daddy would be real proud of you right now."

"Fuck you!" she shouted back.

"Why, thank you," Johnny smiled. "But I think you've had quite enough for one day, young lady."

When Jerry walked down the stairs moments later, everyone again erupted into applause.

"Hail, the conquering hero!" George screamed.

"Thanks, guys," Jerry smiled. "Thanks for the privacy."

"Hey, that's what brothers are for."

During the block party, while I tried to pretend that I was having a good time, I could not help but think about Sarah. After a while, I finally stopped pretending and sat on a stoop by myself. Just as I was getting ready to walk back to the house, Kevin came up to me and handed me a beer.

"Thanks," I said.

"Don't mention it. . . . So tell me, Jake: who is she?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know that look, Jake. Believe me, I have experienced it enough times myself."

"Well, I just broke up with my girlfriend. Actually, she's the one that broke up with me. And she won't even let me talk to her. I just know that if we could talk things out, everything would be okay."

"Well, if you want my advice, if you really want to get her back, you'll need to do something that'll show her how you feel about her. It should be something wild, spontaneous--romantic. Something that will get her attention and show her that you really think she's special. Whatever you do though, don't get her flowers. That's so old and tired that it almost never works anymore. It has to be something that shows some thought--some innovation, if you will."

"And I shall," I smiled.

The following week, I went to Sarah's dorm carrying a small portable stereo.

"Sarah, can we please talk?" I said as I knocked on her door.

"Go away, Jake!" she quickly replied. "It's over. I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore."

"Sarah, I'm not leaving until we talk."

"If you don't go away, I'm going to call security!"

I then quickly began playing a tape of Hall & Oats's "Sara Smile," and started singing along with the music. Although I could not get my voice quite as high as Darryl Hall's, I don't think I was doing a bad job of singing at all. Almost immediately, a number of people from around the floor opened their doors to see what was going on. When they realized what I was doing, most of them started smiling. Toward the end of the song, when I emphatically sang the last chorus, Sarah finally opened her door and quickly dragged me inside.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" she shouted at me.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I have gone crazy. I'm crazy about you. And I just had to talk with you. I know we can work things out."

"I don't know, Jake. I just don't see how it can possibly work out between us. I . . ."

Before she could finish her sentence, I handed her a small gift-wrapped box from my jacket pocket. After she gingerly opened it, she found the gold Star of David necklace that I had bought her.

"Oh, Jake. It's so beautiful."

"Can I put it on you?" I asked.

She nodded, and we stood in front of her mirror together as I put it on.

"I love you, Sarah," I whispered. "There can't be anything we can't work out if we try. You know, it's still kind of early, but if you're interested, I would really like to take you to services during the High Holidays next fall."

She turned around and hugged me.

"Oh, Jake," she whispered into my ear. "I love you so much."

Shortly thereafter, we were lying on her bed seriously making up. As I was nibbling on her left ear lobe, though, she suddenly pushed me away.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Jake Stein, how did you know that I love that song?"

"It was a lucky guess, I suppose."

A few weeks later, when I happened to mention the Semi-formal to Sarah, I was surprised when she told me that she actually wanted to go.

"Now, don't think this means that I've changed my mind about your fraternity," she said, "because I haven't. But it won't hurt me to go to one event. Let me make something perfectly clear though: if I see even one swastika, I'm leaving."

"Very funny," I said as I kissed her. "You're going to have a great time, I promise you."

As the Semi-formal did not include dinner, I took Sarah to a nice Chinese restaurant beforehand. As we were walking into the restaurant, I saw Joey and Beth sitting at a table in the corner, so we walked over to them to say hello.

"Joey," I said, "I would like to introduce you to Sarah."

Joey, while finishing an extremely large mouthful of food, looked over Sarah from head to toe.

"What happened, honey?" he asked her after he finally finished swallowing. "Did you lose a bet? He-he-he."

"Yeah, with your mother," I replied.

"What did you say, Jake?" he angrily asked as he stood up and began staring at me.

"Nothing," I answered as we quickly walked away.

"That's what I thought you said!"

"Joey, don't make a scene!" Beth cried.

We found a table as far away as possible from them and sat down.

"What a nice guy," Sarah said. "Boy, I hope he's not indicative of the rest of your brothers."

"Believe me, Sarah, the vast majority of the brothers are great guys. Even Joey isn't usually that bad. He has just been in a real bad mood as of late."

About an hour and a half later, we arrived at the banquet hall for the Semi-formal. It was the first time that most of the guys had seen me with Sarah, and, judging by their open mouths, they were quite surprised.

"Hi, Sarah," Dennis said as he came over to welcome us.

"Hi, Dennis," she replied. "How are you?"

"Great. . . . I didn't know the two of you were going out."

"Well," I replied, "this is the first fraternity event that she has agreed to attend. We've actually been going out for quite a while now."

"So where have you guys been tonight?" he asked.

"Well, we just had dinner at that Chinese restaurant on K Street. It wasn't bad at all, apart from running into Joey. What about you?"

"Well, Michelle and I were at the Rathskeller."

"The Rathskeller?"

"Yeah, the Rathskeller. What, do you think I'd take Michelle some place nice? What would be the point of that?"

After talking with Dennis for a few minutes, we walked to the bar.

"You know Dennis?" I asked her while we waited for our drinks.

"Yes, we lived on the same floor in Mitchell sophomore year. You know, I never knew he was a member of your fraternity. I really like Dennis, but do you want to know something funny? He always used to tease me about the guys I went out with. Just like my father."

A little later in the evening, as I was coming back from the bathroom, I happened to run into Kevin.

"So how's it going, Jake?" he asked.

"Great. You know, your advice worked like a charm. I really owe you."

"Well, will you do me a favor? Please remember that come Pledge Weekend, will you?"

Almost as soon as I sat down, Jason walked up to us. As it was only a semi-formal, most of the guys wore either a suit or a jacket and tie. Jason for some reason, though, had decided to wear a tacky, purple velvet tuxedo.

"Do you mind, Jake, if I dance with your date?" he asked me, feigning a deep voice.

"I don't know, Jay," I replied. "You'll have to ask the lady herself."

Sarah leaned over toward me and whispered.

"Do I have to?" she asked.

"Oh, don't worry about Jay," I whispered back. "He doesn't bite, at least not normally. And we constantly make certain that all his shots are kept up to date. And hell, I'm sure that he's well over that case of the clap he had."

"Jake Stein, you're going to pay for this later," she said as she got up to dance with Jason.

At the end of the song, she walked back to the table with an expression of horror on her face.

"Come on," I said. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Oh, I think I need to take a shower, Jake. Like, right now! Can you believe it, he actually asked me out. And then he tried to stick his tongue in my ear. Oh, how disgusting! You know, he should really be kept on a leash or something."

After the final dance, we both decided that it was time to leave.

"So, did you have a good time tonight?" I asked her as we walked out.

"Yes. I'll admit it, I had a good time. Everyone was really nice. Well, almost everyone."

As we walked out the door, we saw Dennis and a few other guys talking in the hallway, and Dennis came over to wish us goodnight.

"Sarah," I heard him whisper into her ear as we slowly walked away, "I see you finally picked yourself a winner."

20

2006-05-27T08:15:00.000-07:00

20

Thanksgiving at Daddy's

ON the afternoon of October 19, 1987, everyone in the house spent at least some time watching television in the main room. Unlike any normal weekday, though, we were not watching General Hospital. On this particular afternoon, we were watching the live reports of the stock market crash. During one part of the broadcast, the entire room fell almost completely silent, as an economist said that the crash would have a direct impact on employment, and hiring in particular.

"Well, guys," Tom said a few moments later during a commercial break, "it looks like the party is ending; and just as we were arriving."

While the anxieties I had been having about my future suddenly became even deeper, at least I had other things to think about. The following Friday, I had my third date with Sarah; and although we had not done anything more than kiss each other goodnight, I was more excited about her than I had ever been about anything else. I could not help wondering though when reality would set in and something bad would happen.

Early that Friday evening, I picked her up and we went to a local Italian restaurant. Toward the end of dinner, she reached over the table and put her hand on mine.

"These last few weeks, Jake, have really been wonderful," she smiled. "You know, if someone had told me four years ago that I'd be going out with you, I would have said that they were completely out of their mind. And now, I think I'm crazy about you."

"Can I ask you something, Sarah? Let's just say by chance that one of your friends from high school were to walk in the door right now. How would you react? Would you feel proud? Or would you feel somewhat embarrassed?"

"How could you ask me such a question! Of course I wouldn't be embarrassed. I'm not the same person I was in high school, and you're certainly not the same person you were either."

"Do you think that I've really changed that much?"

"You're completely different. And I'm not talking just about looks. Your personality and attitude have changed dramatically. All for the better, if you ask me."

A few minutes later, the waiter walked by and I asked him for the check.

"So, what did you think about the stock market crash?" I asked her while we waited.

"The what?"

"The stock market crash. You know, the biggest one-day fall of the stock market in history. It just happened Monday. You can't possibly tell me that you didn't hear about it."

"Oh, that. Yeah, I guess I heard about it. It doesn't affect me though. After all, I don't own any stocks."

As I walked her home, I expected nothing more than another goodnight kiss. I was pleasantly surprised, however, to find that she had other ideas.

"So," she whispered to me outside her dorm, "do you want to come in tonight?"

I was so stunned that I had trouble getting the words out.

"Sure," I finally let out. "Why not?"

She quickly grabbed me by the hand and we walked inside together.

"I hope you're not too tired tonight, Jake," she said in front of her room, as she dug into her purse for her keys. "I've been told that I can be somewhat insatiable."

I did not reply, and I'm certain that I must have had a pretty stupid grin on my face.

Early the next morning, I woke up to find Sarah lying peacefully on my chest, her arm softly draped across my body.

"I can't believe that anything could be better than this," I thought as I looked up at the ceiling. "Not even an Old Milwaukee."

A few minutes later, I gently pulled her hair back from her face and started staring at her.

"What an angel," I thought. "What can she possibly see in me?"

When she finally awoke, she smiled and kissed me.

"Good morning," she cooed. "Did you sleep well?"

"You've got to be kidding!"

We both laughed before she slowly rolled over on top of me.

"Wow, thank God it's Saturday," I whispered to her.

"Yeah," she whispered back, "it means that we have the entire weekend."

After we finally got out of bed just before noon, we went to the dormitory cafeteria for lunch.

"So, do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?" she asked me, in between small bites of pizza.

"I guess I'll be at my parent's house like every year. We should definitely have a chance to see each other though. You know, to be really honest, I usually find Thanksgiving break to be pretty dull. Maybe this year it'll be different."

"Well, why don't you spend Thanksgiving at my house? I know my parents would just love to meet you."

"I don't know, Sarah. Thanksgiving is a pretty big holiday at my house, especially for my mother. I can't remember even one year where we all didn't have dinner together in the house."

"Oh, please, Jake," she pleaded. "This is important to me. My father is always so critical of the guys I date, but I know he'll like you. You know, you're a lot more substantial than the other guys I've brought home. Please?"

I finally reluctantly agreed, even though I had no idea how I would explain it to my mother. Sarah smiled and leaned over the table to give me a kiss.

"You know, Sarah," I said as I smiled back at her, "you could probably get me to do just about anything you wanted. Even kill."

"Well, let's just hope that it doesn't come to that."

Early that evening, when I finally returned to the house, George greeted me in the hallway.

"Hey, where were you last night?" he coyly asked. "You know, somebody hasn't been sleeping in their bed. You must have gotten some of that sweet thang!"

Four or five guys then walked up to me to shake my hand, and I could not help but smile.

"Hey, guys, relax," I finally said. "It's not like I just walked on the moon."

"It's not?" Gary asked. "Then, son, you probably weren't doing it right!"

About a month later, the morning before Thanksgiving day, I packed my bag and walked over to Sarah's dorm. For the entire week, I had been feeling nervous about meeting Sarah's father, especially after Sarah had said that he was so critical of all her other boyfriends.

"Why would he like me any more than her other boyfriends?" I thought. "And what did she mean by saying that I was more substantial? How am I substantial at all? I'm soon going to be an out-of-work philosopher. I'm sure that will really endear me to him."

When I got to Sarah's building, I saw her waiting for me in front of her red BMW 318i. As soon as she saw me, she took her keys out of her purse and waved them in front of me.

"So, do you want to drive?" she smiled.

"Are you serious?" I answered as I grabbed the keys.

Once we were on the highway, I looked at her and grinned.

"Sarah, this is an incredible car! You know, I've never driven anything like it before. It sure beats my mother's Oldsmobile."

"It's not bad. It belonged to my dad. He gave it to me when I graduated from high school. He says that if I keep up my grades, he'll buy me a new one when I graduate from college. Boy, I really can't wait. So, how come you don't have your own car?"

"Well, I guess my parents prefer to spend their money on more frivolous things. You know, like food, clothing, shelter. Silly things like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about. Being middle-class is nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, I don't think even being poor is something to be ashamed about."

"Well, that might be true," she said as she put on a pair of sunglasses and leaned back in her seat, "but I'm certainly glad that I'm rich."

A few hours later, as I slowly pulled off the Garden State Parkway, Sarah woke up from the short nap she was taking.

"So tell me," she said as she stretched her arms, "are your parents still upset that you won't be spending Thanksgiving at home?"

"Oh, yes," I said, drawing a deep breath. "I thought my mother was going to cry on the phone when I told her. But then I told her that you're Jewish, and now she seems to be okay about it."

"Oh, so your mother is like that, too. You know, the first thing my mother always asks me when I start dating a new guy is if he's Jewish. I guess all Jewish mothers are like that. In fact, I'll probably be the same way with my children."

After I parked the car in front of my parents' house, we stepped out of the car and walked into the house together.

"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" I yelled as we walked through the hallway.

My mother immediately ran out of the kitchen to hug me, with my father walking a few steps behind her.

"Mom, I would like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Sarah."

My mother took one look at Sarah and started to smile.

"Oh, I'm so glad to finally meet you, Sarah," she said. "Jacob has told me so much about you that I feel as if I already know you."

"Well, I'm really glad to meet you, too," Sarah replied as she shook my parents' hands. "I hope you don't mind too much that Jake will be spending Thanksgiving at my house."

"Don't be silly, Sarah. Whatever gave you the impression that I would mind? Although, next Thanksgiving, you'll be having dinner with us. I insist."

"Consider it a date. Well, I guess I should really be getting home. So, Jake, I'll see you tomorrow at around five o'clock. You know the address, right?"

"Yes, of course."

I then leaned toward her to kiss her good-bye.

"Jake," she whispered as she avoided my kiss, "not in front of your parents!"

The three of us then walked Sarah to the front door.

"Sarah," my father said, "it was a real pleasure meeting you. Now, don't be a stranger around here. You know that you're always welcome."

As soon as Sarah left, my mother raised her hands into the air and smiled.

"Oh, she's Jewish!" she cried. "I'm so happy!"

She then started hugging and kissing me.

"Mazeltov, Jacob! Mazeltov!"

"Mom, relax," I smiled as I gently pushed her away. "First of all, you already knew that she was Jewish. I told you that she was Jewish over the phone. Secondly, we've only been going out together for a couple of months. It's not like we are engaged or anything."

"Oh, but you're such a beautiful couple! I just know that it's going to work out. What do you think about her, David?"

"She's a beautiful girl all right," my father replied. "But beauty isn't everything, son. Remember, there are some qualities that are more important in a woman than looks. Like for instance, can she cook? You know, I didn't start thinking seriously about your mother until she made a few meals. It wasn't until then that I knew she was the woman for me. And another thing, I still don't understand why you couldn't spend Thanksgiving over here. It's a family tradition, you know."

Late the following afternoon, after I finished dressing, I walked into the kitchen. My mother was standing by the stove basting a turkey.

"So, how do I look?" I asked her.

"Oh, you look so handsome, Jacob. And you're dressed so nicely."

"You know, I must admit that I'm kind of nervous about this. Sarah told me that her father has been critical of all her other boyfriends. Why would I be any different?"

"What do you mean, why would you be any different? I'm sure that you're completely different from all those other schmucks. He'll love you, trust me. Just act yourself."

Half an hour later, I walked to Sarah's house, a large, modern-looking wooden house a few blocks away. It must have been at least twice the size of my parents' house.

"Hello," an attractive woman in her early forties said to me as she answered the door.

"Hi," I nervously replied. "I'm Jake."

"Oh, we have been expecting you," she smiled. "Please, come in. I'm Sarah's mother. But please call me Kim."

She then led me into the large, expensively furnished living room where Sarah and her father were waiting. Mr. Goldman, a serious-looking man with an athletic physique and a beard, stood up from his large leather recliner and slowly, but purposefully, walked toward me.

"It's wonderful to finally meet the young man my daughter has been raving about," he said as he offered me his hand. "My name is Ben."

Being nervous, I did not fully concentrate on shaking his hand, and he ended up grabbing mostly fingers.

"Shit," I thought. "Not a great way to start the evening."

Sarah quickly walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek.

"I hope you're hungry," she said as she led me by the arm into the dining room. "My mother had the caterer make an especially large turkey, with all the fixings as well of course."

As we were walking to the dining room, she turned to me and frowned.

"You know, that was a really bad handshake you gave my father," she whispered. "Firm handshakes are really important to him."

"Now you tell me," I whispered back.

Like every other room in the house, the dining room was large, and the dining table was so big that it almost filled the entire room.

"Wow," I thought. "Why do three people need such a large dining room table?"

After we sat down, a man dressed in a white suit walked into the dining room and started serving us soup.

"You know, I usually cook Thanksgiving dinner myself, Jake," Mrs. Goldman said. "We certainly don't want to appear like those idle rich. But as this Thanksgiving is a very special occasion--that is, as we have a very special guest--I decided to splurge a little."

"So tell me, Jake," Mr. Goldman said as he started sipping his soup, "what are you majoring in?"

"Umm, Philosophy," I whispered back.

He immediately started choking on his soup.

"What did you say?" he asked me once again, as soon as he regained his composure.

"Philosophy," I firmly replied. "I'm a Philosophy major."

"That's what I thought you said," he grinned. "You have got to be kidding! Are you telling me that in this day and age they still teach philosophy?"

"Oh, boy," I thought. "That's it. I'm finished."

"Daddy, be nice!" Sarah pleaded. "You promised that you would be nice."

"Calm down, Sarah. I was just joking. Actually, Jake, I must say that it is a refreshing surprise to see a young person today taking an interest in the humanities. You know, I was a Russian Literature major in college myself. In fact, I even got a master's degree in it. Today though, it seems like all the new graduates we see are majoring in either Business, Finance, or Accounting. It's a pity that they don't realize the value of a well-rounded education. I mean, they're all very smart, and within their own narrow sphere, they're actually quite knowledgeable as well. But outside their fields, most of them are just completely clueless. Take my daughter, for instance. You know, you could ask her anything you want about marketing, and she'd give you the right answer. However, if you were to ask her who wrote The Inferno, she'd probably reply that she didn't know who the author was, but that Paul Newman and Steve McQueen starred in the film version."

"No I wouldn't, Daddy," Sarah interrupted. "I've never even seen that movie."

When Mr. Goldman started to chuckle, I had to bite down on my tongue to hold back from smiling.

"Anyway, Jake," he continued, "believe me, the future leaders of our society will be those who are not only masters of their own fields of expertise, but those who have a thorough perspective of the entire world around them. Don't forget that."

After dinner, the waiter came out of the kitchen and served us coffee and dessert.

"So tell me, Jake," Mrs. Goldman said, "what does your father do for a living?"

"Oh, he owns a small shoe store on Millburn Avenue."

"Wait a minute," Mr. Goldman interrupted. "Is your father David Stein? You know, I've been a regular customer there for years. Your father is quite a character, and the service there is impeccable."

After he finished his coffee, Mr. Goldman slowly began getting up from the table.

"If you ladies don't mind," he said, "I would like to speak to Jake for a little while alone in the study. We shouldn't be too long."

As I got up from the table, Sarah nonchalantly walked over toward me.

"Good luck!" she whispered.

"Oh, God," I thought, "now what's going to happen?"

After Mr. Goldman led me into his study, he told me to take a seat.

"Can I offer you a glass of cognac?" he asked, holding up an old bottle of Courvoisier.

I nervously nodded my head in reply. He then handed me the glass of cognac and took a seat directly across from me.

"So, Jake," he said, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but I would really like to know what your plans are for after graduation. What do you intend to do with that Philosophy degree of yours?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't exactly know right now. You know, if you had asked me the same question three years ago, I would have told you that I wanted to be the next Nietzsche. However, a lot has changed in the last few years, and now I really don't know what I'm going to do. While I really haven't talked about it much to anyone, including Sarah, I'm more than a little nervous about it. Especially after what happened to the stock market last month."

"Nietzsche? Really? Wow, that's pretty interesting. You know, I would bet that most of the young people in our office probably don't even know who Nietzsche was, let alone ever aspiring to be like him. The Will to Power . . . now there was a good book. I really enjoyed reading it in college. And let me tell you, it's certainly a lot more relevant than some of the business books I have read lately. . . . Boy, I really like you, Jake. Believe it or not, I see a lot of myself in you. In fact, when I was your age, or perhaps a little older, my dream was to go to Russia and write the next great Russian novel."

"Really? You were planning to live in Russia? Do you speak Russian?"

"Da, konechno govoryu po-russki, moy golubchik! Oh, I had it all planned out. I was going to sneak into Russia and work as a kolkholnik in Siberia. In fact, I used to tell my friends that I would be the first Jew to go to Siberia willingly. Boy, the novel I could have written. But then I met Sarah's mother, and a few weeks later that dream was history. But you know what? It was replaced by an even better dream; a dream that has been fully realized."

He then took my half-empty brandy glass and poured us two more cognacs.

"So, Jake," he said as he handed me back the glass, "has Sarah told you what I do for a living?"

"She just mentioned something about how you are a consultant."

"That's right. I'm a management consultant. My firm helps companies restructure and become more efficient. While we are a relatively small consulting firm at the moment, the potential for our company in the next decade is enormous. You know, I'm really glad that you mentioned the stock market crash a few minutes ago. To some, the crash was a monumental disaster; the end of an era. To us though, it was the best thing that could have ever happened. To us, it was the beginning of a new and even greater era. You see, most large companies right now are fat and inefficient. Until now however, there was no impetus to change. Well, the crash has been the start of that impetus. The market is going to force these large companies to become slimmer and more efficient, and they will be coming to firms like ours to make it happen. And let me tell you something, Jake. The best thing about our work will not be the huge consulting fees we will earn--although, don't get me wrong, that's definitely not a bad thing, mind you. The best thing though will be knowing that we are part of a fundamental change in our society for the good--a change that will not only benefit us, but benefit our entire nation as well. Believe me, it's truly a rare thing indeed, especially in business, to have such a real impact on the world."

He then looked blankly at me for a few moments as he took a long sip of cognac.

"Jake," he finally continued, "while I'm pretty sure you've never considered a career in consulting, maybe it's something you might want to at least think about. You know, there is always room for sharp, well-educated young people who know how to think, especially right now."

"I don't know, Mr. Goldman. I've never thought about working in consulting. I haven't even taken a business course. I don't know the first thing about consulting."

"Tell me, do you think that your classmates who are majoring in business do? Bullshit! They don't know squat. Their education isn't preparing them for a damn thing. They're all just fooling themselves. Experience is everything, and experience is the only thing. The question then you might ask yourself is: how do you get the experience? Well, my company, McKenzie Walters, has a program for junior consultants. If you were, let's say, to take an accounting and a basic economics course next semester and keep your GPA above 3.0, I think I'd be able to get you into the program."

"Are you serious? I don't understand. You just met me tonight--only a few hours ago. How can you be so sure that I'd be able to cut it?"

"Jake, I'm a very good judge of people. I have to be in my business. And I'm almost never wrong about anyone. Besides, I also trust my daughter's judgment. At least as of late. Boy, you should have seen some of the losers she has brought home over the years. You're different though. And I'm sure you already know how taken she is by you."

"Well, I feel the same way about her."

"That's good to hear. Jake, I hope you don't mind me being direct with you. You know, my daughter is one of the best things that has ever happened to me, if not the very best thing. She is more dear to me than anything in my whole life. You'll understand what I mean when you become a father yourself. Unfortunately, I think I have spoiled her a little. And because of it, she's not the kind of person who will ever be very independent. She'll always need someone to take care of her. In that respect, she's very much like her mother. So, I want to make real sure that she'll always be taken care of. I think you understand me, Jake. Don't you?"

"Well, you have certainly given me a lot to think about," I said as I softly placed the brandy glass on the coffee table.

"Good then. I'm glad to hear that. And I can't tell you again how glad I am to have had this chance to talk with you. I honestly hope that everything will work out between the two of you. And think seriously about the program. You can truly be part of something special--something that will really make a difference in this world. You know, I think Dostoevsky said it best when he wrote that there are basically two types of people in the world: ordinary people and extraordinary people. While ordinary people are content and satisfied with the basic necessities of life, and want nothing more than to simply live out their lives, extraordinary people are those few who have the vision and the boldness to change the world. What you need to ask yourself, Jake, is which group of people you want to belong to."

After I walked out of the study and into the living room, Sarah greeted me.

"So, how did it go?" she asked. "You two were in there for a long time. What could you have possibly been talking about?"

"Oh, a lot of things. Boy, your father sure is something. I was really impressed. I think he likes me, too. We even talked about the possibility of me working for his company after graduation."

"Really?"

She got excited and kissed me on the cheek.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"He definitely must like you! He has never been that nice to anyone else I ever brought home. Finally, I brought home someone he likes!"

We then walked into the dining room so I could say goodnight to Mrs. Goldman.

"You're leaving already?" she asked as she quickly got up from the table. "Oh, what a shame. Well, it was a real pleasure having you over, and I hope to see you again real soon. By the way, what have you done with my husband?"

"Oh, he's still in the study. He said that he had some things to finish."

"That man--working on Thanksgiving!"

The two of them then walked me out the front door.

"Well, I will leave the two of you alone," Mrs. Goldman smiled as Sarah and I walked outside. "Goodnight."

As soon as we reached the end of the driveway, we stopped and started kissing each other. Moments later, after we broke our embrace, she smiled at me.

"You know, tomorrow my parents will be shopping all day," she said. "So why don't you come over, let's say around noon. Boy, I haven't done it in my own bedroom since I lost my virginity. It'll be exciting. And then, in the evening we can all go to services together."

"Services? By services, do you mean Temple? I don't know, Sarah. To be honest, the last time I was at Temple, they were playing Villanova at the Garden."

"Very funny, Jake. Very funny. Tell me, do you have something against Temple?"

"No, I don't have anything against Temple. In fact, Temple wouldn't be so bad at all, if it wasn't for the fact that there's always so many Jews there."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that was funny at all. First, you belong to that anti-Semitic fraternity and now this. You know, I'm really starting to wonder about you. You better understand something about me right now. I'm Jewish, and I'm very proud of it. And I'll always be proud of it. And I don't like when people put it down, even in jest."

"I'm sorry, Sarah," I apologized as I put my hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just don't feel the same way about Judaism as you do. It doesn't mean that I don't respect your right to feel the way you do. And it certainly doesn't mean I don't care about you, because I do. In fact, I care more about you than I ever thought I would care about anyone. And one more thing: for the very last time, we are not an anti-Semitic fraternity!"

A few minutes later, as I returned home, I saw my father sitting in the living room reading a newspaper.

"So how was your dinner?" he asked me while he continued reading.

"Not bad," I answered as I sat down next to him. "In fact, Mr. Goldman says he knows you. He says that he's a regular customer at the store. His first name is Ben."

"Ben Goldman? Oh, yeah. Nice guy--size 9 1/2 I believe. He's some kind of consultant or what not, isn't he?"

"That's right. He's a management consultant. And he was telling me tonight how consulting is going to be a big growth field. He even said that he might be able to get me a job at his company after I graduate."

"Oh," my father said as he put his newspaper down. "That's good news, I guess. That is, if that's what you really want to do with your life. You know, personally, I don't really know if consulting is such a great profession. . . . Take shoes, for example. Everybody needs shoes. Now, consultants on the other hand, I'm not even certain what they actually do, let alone know if people really need them."

19

2006-05-27T08:01:00.000-07:00

19

They Hate Jews, Don't They?

"YOU'RE going to live where?" my mother asked me after I told her that I was planning to live in the fraternity house during my senior year. "You've got to be out of your mind! It's one thing to be a member of such a group, but to live with those animals?"

"Mom, how can you call them animals when you don't even know them?"

"Believe me, Jacob, I've read a lot about what goes on in these fraternities, especially since you joined one. It's absolutely sickening! Why, just a few weeks ago I read a story about a boy who was joining some fraternity in Texas. During the initiation, they took off his clothes and locked him in a closet. They then tied a rope to his genitals and led him around like a dog until his genitals were actually torn off."

"Wow, he really got off easy."

When it came time to return to school, as opposed to the two previous years, my mother decided to make the trip with my father and me.

"I'm really interested in seeing what this place looks like," my mother said to me as we entered Washington's city limits.

"I'm sure you'll like it, Mom," I replied. "It's real cozy. And now, you'll finally get a chance to meet some of the guys. I think just maybe your opinion will change."

After my father parked the car in front of the house, my mother slowly stepped out and quietly looked at the house for a few moments.

"What a dump!" she finally announced. "It looks like it could fall down any minute."

After we walked inside, I dropped off my bags in the hallway. I then walked into the main room by myself and saw a bunch of guys watching a video of Scarface.

"Don't you guys think that you've seen this movie enough?" I said. "You must have seen it at least a hundred times."

"You can never see Scarface too many times," Dennis replied. "With each viewing, you see a subtle aspect to the film that you might have missed before. . . . Hey, Jake, are those your parents in the hallway?"

A few of the guys then got up and introduced themselves.

"Hi," Little Paul said as he offered his hand. "So, you're Jake's parents."

My mother turned to me and whispered into my ear.

"This must be that Al fellow you talked about."

My mother then shook Joseph's hand.

"I'm glad to f--," Joseph started to say, before I quickly put my hand in front of his mouth. "What's the matter, Jake?" he said. "I was just going to say that I was glad to finally meet them."

"Jacob!" my mother cried out with a look of astonishment on her face. "That was very rude of you. I think you should apologize to him right now."

After the introductions, I picked up my bags, and the three of us walked upstairs to the small room on the third floor where I was going to live that year; and after I dropped off my things, I gave them a quick tour of the house, which ended in the upstairs bathroom.

"Jacob," she whispered to me as she closed the bathroom door behind us. "You are not living here. Do you understand me?"

"What do you mean I'm not living here? I am living here. There is nothing to discuss."

"You're not living here! This place is disgusting! It's literally falling apart, it's an absolute pigsty, and it just reeks with the smell of rotting beer. I'm only surprised that there isn't human feces on the bathroom floor. You're not living here, and that's final! We'll find you a place in one of the dorms."

"It's too late to find a place in one of the dorms! And besides, I happen to like the smell of rotting beer!"

"Well, if we can't get you a room in one of the dorms, we'll rent you an apartment. But you're not living here!"

My father, who had been fairly silent upon our arrival, finally spoke.

"Ruth, Jacob is twenty-one years old. He has the right to live wherever he wants to live. Besides, I don't think this place is all that bad. It could be worse."

"Worse? " my mother screamed back. "How could it possibly be worse?"

While I think my father actually liked the house, he certainly liked that it was considerably cheaper than a dorm room. With him on my side, my mother had no choice but to eventually relent, however reluctantly.

"This is a big mistake," she said as the three of us walked out of the house together. "Jacob, if you change your mind for any reason, please do not hesitate to call us, and we'll get you an apartment. Regardless of the cost."

She then took one last look at the house before turning to my father.

"Look, David, there isn't even a mezuzah on the door! How can our son live in a house that doesn't have a mezuzah on the door!"

"Calm down, Ruth," my father said as he walked her to the car. "Everything will be all right."

After he sat my mother in the car, he came back to say good-bye to me.

"Don't worry about your mother, kiddo. She'll be all right. This is just a bit of a shock to her. To be honest with you, she had herself worked up to the point where she was going to hate the house no matter what it looked like. It'll be fine though. Just have yourself a good time. We'll see you on Thanksgiving."

My mother was not the only person who had doubts about the sanity of living in the fraternity house. I had argued with myself for at least a month before finally deciding to do it. While it was certainly going to be a lot more difficult to study, I just felt that I had to experience it at least once.

The next afternoon, while I was sitting in the main room watching television, Dennis walked downstairs.

"Hey, who wants to go with me to the Oriole game?" he asked.

"The Oriole game?" George replied. "Dennis, the game starts in half an hour. Can we make it in time?"

"Fuck no! But who cares? So we miss the first few innings."

Dennis, George, Gary, Joey, and I quickly packed into Dennis's convertible, and we drove to Baltimore. The drive took a little more than an hour, stopping only once to buy a case of beer, which we easily finished before we reached Memorial Stadium.

By the time we bought the tickets and finally found our seats, the fourth inning had just begun. As the Orioles were not playing well that season, we had a whole area of the bleachers to ourselves to get drunk and be obnoxious.

Near the end of the game, when Spike Owens came to the plate, Gary smiled.

"You know what, guys?" he said. "One of us should be Spike."

"Yes," Dennis replied, "that's a great idea. But who?"

"Well, I think it has to be Jake."

"Me? Why me?"

"That's your problem, Jake. You always have to question everything. Why can't you just accept it. Why you? Why not you? It could be worse. Hell, you could be Roxal."

"Talking about Roxal," Dennis interrupted, "I've got a really great story for you guys. This summer my brother and I took a trip down to Miami. Don't ask me why, but I decided to give Roxal a call. You know, he lives in Miami. Anyway, the three of us ended up going fishing somewhere in the Everglades with Roxal's friend Juan, who supposedly was a Contra rebel at one time. Well, after about an hour of fishing, this guy Juan decides to pull out some of his handguns, and he and Roxal start shooting at birds, all the while screaming something in Spanish. About twenty minutes later, as they finished shooting, Juan started bragging to us about how many Sandanistas he killed during the war, and how he was an expert in firearms. Well, as he was cleaning one of the guns, the fucking moron shoots himself. Man, there was blood everywhere. Juan ended up being okay, but we had to spend the rest of the day in the hospital. Let me tell you something: if Juan was any example of a Contra rebel, we must have really thrown a lot of money down the shit-hole the past few years."

On the drive back to the house from the game, we stopped again for another case of beer.

"Are you sure that you're okay to drive, Den?" Gary asked as Dennis opened a can of beer. "You've been drinking a hell of a lot today."

"I'm fine," he replied. "In fact, I think that my driving actually improves the more I drink. It's only when I'm stone-cold sober that I become dangerous behind the wheel."

"Then how come you got that ticket for DWI this summer?" Joey asked. "Why don't you tell them that story."

"Well, if it wasn't for the fact that I was doing eighty in a forty-five-mile-an-hour zone, I probably would've never gotten caught for DWI. But when they caught me for speeding, they automatically gave me a breath test. My alcohol level was so high that I had to spend the rest of the night in jail. What was funny though was that I had to share a cell with this seventeen-year-old Puerto Rican kid who was in jail for raping his thirteen-year-old girlfriend. 'It was no rape, man,' he kept saying to me. 'She's my girlfriend. How can it be rape?' "

"Man, Dennis," Gary smiled, "you certainly had a far more interesting summer than I did. But I don't understand something. If they arrested you for DWI, didn't they suspend your driver's license?"

"They sure did. For six months."

"Six months? Doesn't that mean you can't drive right now?"

"No, it doesn't mean that I can't drive. It just means that I can't get caught."

A few minutes later, Joey put his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out a small bag of marijuana.

"Hey, guys, look what I found," he smiled. "Now, if we only had some paper, we--"

"I don't have any rolling paper," Dennis interrupted, "but I have some tinfoil in the glove compartment. Do you think that'll do?"

"I don't know," Joey replied. "I've never tried it before. But hell, it's better than nothing. Chuck it back over here."

After Gary handed him the tinfoil, he put some marijuana on it, and semi-rolled it into the shape of a joint. While lighting it, he was careful not to let the flame touch the tinfoil.

"Not bad," he said after he took a drag. "The tinfoil gets a little hot, but other than that it works just fine."

The makeshift joint was then passed around, and by the time it was Dennis's turn we had each taken a hit.

"Are you sure that you want to do this while you're driving?" Gary asked, holding the joint in his hand.

"Absolutely," Dennis replied as he put his beer between his legs. "Just light it for me and hold it up to my mouth."

After Dennis took a very deep hit, the car quickly swerved from the left lane of the three-lane highway all the way to the right lane. It then spun in a full circle before he was finally able to pull off onto the shoulder and stop.

"Well," he calmly said as he turned back to us, "maybe someone else should drive."

Gary, who was probably the most sober of all of us, took over the wheel, and we made it back to Washington without further incident. Before returning to the house though, we stopped at Safeway to buy some barbecue supplies.

"You know, I'm really glad that I'm living in the house," I said to Gary as we sat on the back stairs waiting for the grill to get warm. "My grades may go down the drain, but I'm going to have a really good time this year."

After we finished eating, we walked back into the main room and started watching TV.

"I don't know about you guys," Joey said, "but I'm kind of in the mood for some 'shrooms."

"Why don't you give Michelle Fellatio a call," Dennis said. "She likes to do mushrooms a lot, especially before fucking."

"Hey, Den," Gary said, "what's going on between you two? Are you still going out?"

"Now and then. We kind of have a love-hate relationship. We hate each other's guts, but at the same time, we love fucking the shit out of each other."

"You know, that's pretty similar to the relationship I have with Beth," Joey said. "Man, she fucks like a banshee!"

Joey then got up and walked over to the pay phone in the hallway to call Michelle. When he returned a few minutes later, he quietly stared at us.

"Fuck!" he finally screamed. "She doesn't have any 'shrooms at all! . . . Oh, Dennis, before I forget, she told me that she wants you to call her tonight. She sounded really horny."

"She's always fucking horny," Dennis replied. "Unfortunately, I just don't have the energy. I don't think I could even get the old boy up tonight. Not even after one of her patented gob jobs."

"Well," Joey said, "if we can't get any 'shrooms, I guess that means that we'll have to pull old Colonel Taylor out of the closet."

"Who?" I asked.

"You've never seen Colonel Taylor?" Dennis replied.

"You mean Jeb Taylor, the founder of the fraternity?"

"Exactly. What do you say, Joey? I think it's time we introduced Jake to the Colonel."

I followed the two of them as we went upstairs into Joey's room. As I walked inside, I was surprised to see a USA Today vending machine standing next to Joey's bed.

"What the fuck are you doing with that newspaper machine in your room?" I asked.

"Oh, that. I picked it up during the summer. Literally. One night after the Rooster a couple of us were driving around when we saw it. It wasn't locked down very well and there was no one around, so we picked it up, put it in the back seat, and brought it back to the house. I figure one day it'll make a good souvenir of my college days."

Joey then walked into the closet, and a few moments later, pulled out the tallest bong I had ever seen. It must have been at least four feet tall and had the fraternity emblem stuck to it.

"This is Colonel Taylor," he said.

"Boy," I whispered to Dennis, "I guess this is going to be a long evening."

Dennis just smiled and nodded his head.

Later that week, we had our first official brothers meeting of the semester. At the end of the meeting, a few of the guys talked about their summers.

"I've got big news, guys," Jason said when it was his turn to speak. "As many of you already know, during one of our summer parties, in the back alley of the house, I got laid for the very first time!"

The entire room erupted into cheers and screams of "Jason! Jason! Jason!"

"Well," he continued, "as it turns out, this was only part of the story. The young lady in question informed me last week that not only had I probably caught VD from her, but that I also got her pregnant as well!"

The room again burst into cheers. This time however, they were mixed with laughter.

"You're fucking amazing, Jay!" Johnny Mass screamed. "You're going to be a legend even beyond your own mind!"

"You can say that again, Johnny Mass," Jason smiled. "Just think about it: with one small stroke of my quite apt penis, I lost my virginity, I caught VD, and I got a girl pregnant. All at the same time. How many guys can claim such a feat? Boy, my dad was so proud when I told him the news. He said, 'Finally, my little boy has become a man!' "

"So, what are you going to do about all this, Jay?" Tom asked.

"Well, I got a shot for the VD, so I'm okay with that. And this week I'll be taking the young lady in question to the clinic to get an abortion--which should be pretty cool. I hope they let me watch. I must say though, in all honesty, part of me is a little disappointed that a being created from my seed will be destroyed. I guess being a stud has its drawbacks."

"Who was this 'young lady'?" I whispered to Joey, who was sitting next to me.

"Oh, she's some chick I know. I actually set them up that night. She'll fuck anything, even a door knob. If you want, Jake, I could probably set you up with her as well."

"That's okay, Joey. I think I'll pass."

The following Saturday night, while at the Black Rooster with a few other guys, I went up to the bar to get another beer. As I was waiting, I noticed Sarah Goldman and a few of her friends sitting next to me. I thought about saying hello, but decided against it.

"Here you go, Jake," Mike the bartender said to me as he handed me a beer.

When Sarah heard my name, she turned to me and smiled.

"Oh, Jake," she said, "how are you doing?"

"Great," I replied, noticeably surprised that she was talking to me. "She must be drunk," I thought. "And yourself?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm fine."

"You know, I can't ever recall seeing you here before."

"Well, believe it or not, this is the first time I've ever been here. I don't really go to bars a lot, and if I do, I usually go to G.G. Flips. What about yourself? Do you come here often?"

"Very often. We pretty much live here. Me and my fraternity brothers over there."

When she noticed the Tau Mu jersey I was wearing, she began looking at me strangely.

"You're a Tau Mu?" she asked. "That's pretty surprising."

"Surprising? Why do you say that?"

She leaned over toward me and whispered into my ear.

"They hate Jews, don't they?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. Everyone has always told me that Tau Mu was the anti-Semitic fraternity on campus."

"Really? Well, maybe that's because of the book burnings we have now and then."

She looked at me in horror.

"Or maybe it's because we often play Jew in the middle."

"Jew in the middle?"

"Yeah, Jew in the middle. It's kind of like monkey in the middle, but much, much more violent. You know, it's funny how I somehow always get picked to start in the middle. Go figure? Or, you know what it could be? Maybe it's because of the brown shirts and swastikas some of the guys like to wear around campus. I keep telling them not to wear that shit outside the house, but they just don't listen to me."

"Okay, okay," she said as her look of horror became a grin of embarrassment. "Very funny. But it's true though. I've heard from more than one person that they hate Jews."

"Well then, I guess you shouldn't believe everything you hear. You know, not only is the president of the chapter Jewish, but probably around 10, 15 percent of the brothers are Jewish. If we were truly anti-Semitic, that certainly would never happen. Now would it?"

We continued talking for another few minutes before one of her friends tapped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Sarah," she said, "but we're going to go to another bar."

"Okay," Sarah replied. "But if you don't mind though, I think I'm going to stay here for a little while. And then I'll probably just go home."

"Is this really happening?" I thought. "Could she really be finding me interesting?"

"Boy," she said as she turned back to me and took a sip of her drink, "how long have we known each other?"

"Well, I think we started going to the same school at around junior high. But of course, we met at that YMHA day camp. You remember, don't you?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Wow, that was so long ago. I totally forgot about it."

"Hey, do you remember all those great songs we used to sing on the bus? Remember, being a Jewish camp, we couldn't very well sing "When the Saints Come Marching In," so instead we had our own version of it. Do you remember it?"

"Not really."

"Oh, I think it went something like this:

When bus four comes marching in,
When bus four comes marching in.
I want to be on that number,
When bus four comes marching in.

She laughed as she put her hands over her eyes.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe you're singing that. I do not know you."

George, who happened to be walking by, stopped and leaned over toward us.

"Go bus four!" he shouted, raising his fist high into the air.

After he walked away, I ordered another beer and turned back to Sarah.

"I guess a lot has changed since then," I said.

"Since then? Hell, an awful lot has changed just since high school. For instance, you've changed a lot. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you were really weird. You were also very shy and obviously didn't have much self-esteem. It's amazing how much you've changed in just a few years."

"Well, I bet you've probably changed a lot as well. Maybe not as much physically, especially compared with me, but talking to you right now, I get a sense that you're nothing like you were in high school."

"Yeah, I guess you're probably right. I've done a lot of growing up in the last few years. It's amazing how much your perspective on life changes from sixteen to twenty-one. For example, guys. You know, when I was sixteen, I was only interested in guys who were tall and muscular, with blond hair and blue eyes. I couldn't care less if they could put two words together. And today, looks aren't nearly as important. Well, at least those kinds of looks. Of course, being cute will always be important. But being funny and sensitive are now just as important."

She briefly paused as she started warmly smiling at me. It was a smile that instantly sent shivers down my spine.

"Jake, do you mind if I ask you a question? When we were younger, you had a crush on me, didn't you?"

"Had? I still have a crush on you. You know, I don't think that you can ever get over crushes. You can get over loves, but never crushes. I think it's because by their very nature, crushes are always something unrequited. I mean, if a love affair doesn't work out, at least you can say that you experienced it, and that it just wasn't meant to be. But with a crush, you're forever wondering what could have been."

"That's pretty interesting. I never thought about it like that."

"Well, should I or shouldn't I," I started thinking as she continued smiling at me.

I finally decided I had nothing to lose.

"Sarah, this may be going way out on a limb, but would you like to go out with me next Friday?"

I think that she was more than just a little taken back by my proposal. And as it looked as if she were quickly trying to think of an excuse to turn me down, I prepared myself for the worst.

"Sure, why not," she finally said. "It'll be fun. Just as long as you don't sing."

At that moment, it took all my strength to contain my excitement and keep at least the appearance of being under control.

"Great," I said. "So I'll pick you up Friday, say at around seven?"

"That'll be fine. I live in Mitchell."

"You're still living in Mitchell?"

"Yes, but now I have a room on the first floor, so I have my own bathroom. Where do you live?"

"Oh, I live in the fraternity house. It's certainly not the quietest place in the world to study, but it has certainly been a great experience."

"Well," she said as she finished her drink, "I'm kind of tired, so I think I'll be heading home."

I thought about asking her if I could walk her home, but I decided that it would probably be pushing it. As she got up, she leaned toward me and kissed me on the cheek.

"I really had a great time tonight, Jake," she said. "I'll see you Friday night at seven. Goodnight."

Before I finally returned to my friends, I must have stood by the bar for at least another ten minutes.

"Did that really happen?" I kept asking myself.

I had been crazy about Sarah for what seemed to have been my entire life, but I had never given any hope of ever having a chance to be with her. I was completely beside myself.

The following Friday, I started dressing more than a hour before I was to pick Sarah up. I put on a pair of khaki pants, a blue button-down Polo oxford, and even a tie. Although I had bought the clothes during the summer, I had not had a particularly good reason to wear them until that evening. When I finally walked downstairs at about 6:45, George, who had just walked out of the back room, knew that something was up.

"Jake, is that you?" he screamed. "You must have a date! You Klingon-Jew bastard! Get psyched! Is it with that cute chick from the Rooster last weekend? That 'Bus Four' song must have really gotten to her, eh? Hey, Gary, come in here and take a look at Jake! He looks like something out of fucking GQ!"

Gary and Belinda quickly rushed into the main room.

"Oh, my God!" Gary shouted. "Look at you! You're going to get some leg tonight for sure!"

"Oh, be nice, guys," Belinda smiled. "He looks so cute."

"Is everyone just about finished?" I asked, trying to hold back a smile.

"It must really be serious, guys," George said. "Look at him--he's wearing loafers with no laces on his shoes!"

18

2006-05-27T07:55:00.000-07:00

18

The Summer of Contemplation and Consumption

WHEN I received a large green envelope from the White House a few weeks after returning from school for the summer, I could not imagine what it could have possibly been. As I opened it though, I vaguely remembered that Clayton once promised to send all the brothers an autographed picture of President Reagan. When I took the photograph out of the envelop, I was surprised to see the following inscription: "To Jake Stein with best wishes, Ronald Reagan." While the greeting was obviously generated somehow, the autograph looked authentic.

"Look what I just got!" I said to my mother as I ran into the kitchen.

My mother, who was busy cooking, briefly glanced at the photograph.

"Interesting," she said as she returned her attention back to cooking. "So what are you going to do with it? It's too thick for toilet paper."

When I had started college three years earlier, I did not care much for Reagan either. But then again, I was an anarchist--I did not care for any politicians. Over the next three years though, I somehow began to appreciate and even like Reagan. To paraphrase Mark Twain: when I was eighteen I thought Ronald Reagan was the stupidest man alive, but when I was twenty-one I was astonished how smart he had become. And to my surprise, and to my parents' horror, soon after graduating college I even registered as a Republican.

My politics though were not the only thing that had changed during my three years in college. I gradually changed in appearance from having long, unkempt hair and an unshaven face, wearing mostly punk rock T-shirts and baggy jeans, to having short hair and an increasingly clean cut, preppy appearance. I also found myself spending a lot of time that summer in the Polo department of Macy's, spending a considerable amount of the money I was making at the Empire State Building, where once again I had a summer job.

Although I had changed considerably since I had started school, the one thing that seemed to stay fairly constant was my experiences with women. I still had not had even one serious relationship with a woman, nor did I have any real prospects. And while at least I was getting some sex when I was eighteen, I was then getting nothing at all.

In addition to everything else, that summer I also started having serious doubts about my future. My grades were good overall, but I was getting a degree in Philosophy, and I started feeling nervous about what I was going to do after I graduated. When I had been eighteen, the prospect of being a philosopher was very romantic, but three years later all I could think about was, "Who would hire a philosopher?" As not many Fortune 500 companies had a Philosophy Department, my only real option seemed to be becoming a teacher, and becoming a teacher would first require getting a doctorate. Not only would that take many more years of school, but there would be no guarantee that I would not have to work at some little school in the middle of nowhere. That is, if I could find a job at all. I guess I could have also considered law school, but as Herb had said so eloquently the summer before, the world truly did not need another "Jew lawyer."

"Well, you can always join me in the family business," my father said to me when I mistakenly mentioned to him the anxieties I was having about my future. "You know, I've never pushed you about it, not once, but it always has been a dream of mine that one day you would join me. I could really use a college-educated fellow like yourself. Who knows? Maybe I'll open a second store in one of the malls. You know, like I've always talked about. Sure, there's a lot of competition in the malls; but as they always say, you can never have too many shoe stores in a mall."

Another thing that bothered me that summer was work. It seemed even duller than it had the previous year. Even drinking at lunch no longer seemed to help much.

"Is this what life is going to be like after college?" I thought as I stood by an empty elevator bank. "I wonder if there is life after college at all."

In early June, I began to look forward to working in the freight elevator area, as at least it was not as boring as standing by the elevators. Also, there I always had the possibility of making a few dollars on the side. Then one afternoon, about a week before I was to start working in the area, all the elevator operators were fired. Management, who had become increasingly suspicious of the activities of the operators, put someone undercover in the area to watch them. While I never discovered the exact reasons they were fired, clearly graft was among them.

"Wow, if not for the grace of God," I thought when I heard the news in the locker room. "Another few weeks and I would have probably been fired with them."

As I was changing into my street clothes later that day, Frank, the Assistant Director of Security, walked up to me in the locker room.

"Jake, could I talk to you for a few minutes in my office?" he whispered to me.

"Shit!" I immediately thought. "Somehow I was implicated too! Now I'm going to lose this fucking job!"

I quietly followed Frank into his office and took a seat.

"I guess you've probably heard about what happened today, eh? It's really unfortunate. You know, we give people a certain amount of freedom around here, but there are lines that simply no one can cross. And they crossed them. Boy, did they cross them. It's really too bad, because this is by far the best building to work in, in the entire city. Sure, the union will find them other jobs, but they won't be nearly as good as this one. Well, anyway, the reason I wanted to talk to you was that obviously we need to hire four new people to work the freight elevators as soon as possible. Like I've told you before, we really like your work, and even though you are still in school, we wanted you to be the first one we asked to work in the area full-time."

"Well, I'm honored that you're asking me," I replied, feeling quite relieved, "but I really need to finish school. Of course, I have no problem with working in the freight area for the rest of the summer."

"Well, at least that's something. We can definitely use you there immediately. But why don't you at least think about the full-time job for a little while. You don't need to tell me right away. You know, a guy like you could go very far in this building."

"Yeah," I thought, "all the way up to the observation tower."

A few weeks later, while I was watching television at home, my mother told me that I had a phone call.

"Hey, dude, what are you doing July 4th?" Gary asked me as soon as I picked up the receiver.

"I'll be working," I answered.

"No, you're not! You're coming with me down to DC. The house is planning a big party. We're going to have a barbecue on the Mall."

"I don't know, Gary. July 4th is by far my best earning day of the summer. I get two and a half times pay, and there is a good chance that I'll get to work a double-shift like last year. I'll stand to make a shit load of money."

"Dude, man, this is our last summer before graduating. You'll have the rest of your life to work and make money. This is going to be a real fucking blowout!"

"I'll tell you what, let me think about it. I'll call you back at the end of the week."

Over the next few days, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there was a lot of truth in what Gary said. So, in spite of the fact that I would stand to lose a good deal of income, I was leaning toward going with him.

"It sounds like an easy choice to me," my mother said when I asked her about it. "I mean, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near the Mall on July 4th. In fact, I just read an magazine article about all the drunkenness and depravity that goes on there. It sounds just horrible."

"Drunkenness and depravity?" I thought. "Hmm. I guess that does it for me. I'm going!"

I immediately walked over to the telephone and called Gary.

"Count me in, Gary," I said. "Hey, do you need a lift?"

"I thought you would never ask," he answered. "I'll give you directions. I live only a few minutes from the Turnpike, so it won't be out of your way at all. Hey, when do you want to leave? I don't know if you're interested, but most people I think will already be there on the 3rd. They're going to play softball, and of course, drink beer. It's up to you though."

"That sounds like a good idea. Hell, if I'm going to miss the 4th, I might as well take another day off, too. How can it hurt?"

"Now you're finally getting the right attitude!"

On the morning of July 3rd, once I got off the New Jersey Turnpike, it took me almost half an hour to find Gary's house, even though he lived nearby. I must have taken a wrong turn, or more likely, a few wrong turns. By the time I finally found the house, it was already 10:30. Gary was waiting for me outside and jumped into the car as soon as I stopped.

"So what took you so long?" he asked me as I drove off. "I've been waiting for over half an hour. Did you get lost?"

"Yeah, I guess a little."

"Well, it's kind of understandable. Some of the turns are pretty tricky. Also, in neighborhoods like this, all the houses and streets look pretty much the same. The important thing is that you made it. You know, I can already smell the beer. Boy, are we going to have one fantastic time."

As I turned back onto the Turnpike, Gary smiled as he looked around the inside of my mother's Oldsmobile.

"This is a nice car," he joked.

"Hey, maybe it's not the greatest car in the world," I replied, "but at least it'll get us to where we need to go."

"Is it yours?"

"No, it's my mother's. She lets me borrow it during the summer."

"Well, at least it's not your father's Oldsmobile. Get it?"

"Very cute. So, tell me, what's Belinda up to? Is she going to be down in DC, too?"

"Unfortunately, she's not. To be honest, I really haven't seen much of her since the summer began. She's been working as a counselor at some camp in Pennsylvania. She's doing pretty good, though. I talk to her on the phone at least once a week. She really loves working with the kids. In fact, I just talked to her a few days ago. She sends her best. She also said that you should keep an eye on me. I told her, 'Who then is going to keep an eye on Jake?' Anyway, I must say that it's kind of tough being without her for such a long period of time. You know, once you get used to something, especially when it's something really good, it's kind of hard to suddenly be without it. If you know what I'm talking about."

"Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Does it bother you, you know, about her reputation and all?"

"To be real honest, at first it did kind of bother me. In fact, I was really hesitant about asking her out for a long time. But you know what? It was really stupid. So, she was pretty wild. She certainly wasn't any wilder than I was. And more importantly, that's all in the past. Besides, let me tell you, Jake, having an experienced girlfriend is not a bad thing at all. She's pretty amazing; I can't possibly imagine ever being bored with her."

Toward the end of the Turnpike there was a lot of construction, but I hardly noticed as I was so wrapped up talking with Gary. Suddenly, we came to a set of pylons in the middle of the road, signaling us to bear either left or right.

"Hey, Jake, look out!" Gary screamed when it became obvious to him that I was not paying attention to the road.

Fortunately, I was able to swerve to the right just before hitting the pylons. A few seconds later though, we heard the car behind us crash. Gary looked back to see what happened.

"Wow, Jake," he said after turning back around, "you head-faked him!"

When we finally got to the house a little after 1:00 P.M., we saw a bunch of people sitting in front of the house drinking beer.

"Hey, guys," Joey said as I parked in front of the house, "how was the trip down?"

"Not bad," Gary replied as he stepped out of the car. "Jake caused this guy to crash his car. It was pretty fucking cool."

"Fuck you!" I said. "I didn't cause him to crash. He should have been paying attention to the road instead of me."

That afternoon, we played softball, before spending the entire evening at the Black Rooster.

"Save your strength," Gary said to me as he brought over a round of beers. "Tomorrow will be the big day."

July 4th was a beautiful, bright summer day, and very hot. Early in the afternoon, we bought a keg of beer and placed it into the small house dumpster, and covered the keg with ice. We then put the barbecue grill, food, and a vodka-spiked watermelon in the dumpster alongside the keg, and began rolling it down to the Mall. As we approached the Mall, however, we saw policemen at every corner checking the contents of what people were carrying. So Gary ran ahead to find out what we could and could not bring onto the Mall.

"Bad news, guys," he said as he returned a few minutes later. "No kegs allowed. Period."

"That's bullshit!" George screamed. "It's our fucking Constitutional right! Don't they realize that this is why we broke off from England in the first place?"

"Why don't you explain that to him, Dee. For all the good it'll do you."

"Hey, I have an idea," Dennis calmly said. "First, let's hail a cab. Then, a few of us can drive around with the keg until we find some place where there aren't any cops around. We'll meet you guys on top of that hill over there. We'll just have to be careful today, that's all. So, who wants to go with me?"

"I'm game, Den," I said.

The two of us then jumped into the first available cab with the keg.

"Hey, buddy," Dennis said to the driver, "just drive us around the Mall. I'll tell you when to stop."

The cab driver turned back to us and smiled.

"Oh, to be young again!" he said.

When we found a stretch of the Mall where there did not appear to be any police, Dennis told the cab driver to stop. Once outside the cab, we each grabbed a handle of the keg.

"Are you ready, Jake?" he asked. "We really need to get up there quickly."

We started running up the hill with the keg, to the cheers of the brothers who were waiting for us on top of the hill. When we finally got to the top, four or five guys grabbed the keg from us and quickly lifted it back into the dumpster.

"It just goes to show you," Dennis said to everyone as he tried to catch his breath, "man can truly accomplish anything he sets his mind to."

For the rest of the afternoon, we did nothing more than sit in the sun while we drank and ate. A little before dark, as I went up to the keg to pour myself a beer, I happened to run into George.

"Hey, Jake, how's your summer been?" he asked.

"Not bad," I replied. "Work is pretty boring, but at least I get to drink just about every day. How's your summer been?"

"Oh, the same old shit. Working at Cumberland Farms again. At least now I'm an Assistant Manager. There's no future in it, though. To be honest, I don't even know what I'm going to do when I graduate. The summer has been pretty fun, though. In fact, the whole family was in New York just a few weeks ago. I wanted to give you a call, but I forgot to bring your number. Hey, I've got a real funny story for you. One evening me and Tony wanted to go to a bar. But hell, we don't fucking know New York at all. So we just grabbed a cab and told the driver to take us to a decent bar somewhere in the Village. Well, he ends up dropping us off at a place called Uncle Charlie's. And guess what? It's a fucking gay bar! Nothing inside but cock. The fucking cab driver must have thought that we were a couple of fag boys! Wow, what a place. We stayed there only long enough for Tony to use the bathroom. He told me afterward that there were two bathrooms there: men and boys."

"That's pretty funny. So tell me, how's your brother doing? I haven't seen him in a long time."

"He's just as wild as usual. You know, the kid really fucking pisses me off a lot, but I'll tell you, no one can deny that he's funnier than shit. Last month, for example, we were all drunk, and for some reason we decided to take a road trip to see the Pawsox play. They're the Red Sox minor league team. Anyway, Tony was so drunk, he began insulting one of the ushers. Can you believe it, he ordered the guy to wipe our seats down, and we were actually thrown out of a minor league baseball game."

By the time the fireworks started that evening, the keg and the watermelon were long finished and all of us were drunk. During the fireworks, we sang an odd mix of songs that included patriotic, fraternity, and even TV and movie theme songs.

"Will you guys fucking shut up already!" someone in the crowd shouted after we started singing "New York, New York" for the fifth time in a row. We kept singing though, until the very last rocket red glared.

After the fireworks, as everyone was leaving the Mall, we threw everything back into the dumpster, and Brian and I started wheeling it back to the house.

"You know, the dumpster is pretty light right now," Brian said to me after walking a few yards. "I don't know about you, Jake, but after a day like this, I could sure use some exercise. What do you say we jog the dumpster back to the house? It can't be no more than a mile, mile and a half."

If he were sober, he would have never made such an idiotic suggestion. And if I were sober, I would have certainly never agreed to it. Unfortunately, neither was the case, and we both started jogging.

As there must have been thousands of people in the street, Brian, who was running in front of the dumpster, made beeping sounds to warn people that we were coming.

"You fucking, drunken frat rats!" some woman in the crowd screamed.

"Did you hear that, Brian?" I said. "We're frat rats."

For the remainder of the way back to the house, instead of making a stupid beeping sound, Brian just screamed, "Frat rats! Frat rats!"

When we finally returned to the house, Brian and I were completely out of breath and drenched with sweat. We put the dumpster back behind the house, and Brian turned to me and smiled.

"What a great fucking day," he said. "You know, I can't believe what we just did. What a bunch of obnoxious assholes we are. Boy, we really are just a bunch of fucking, drunken frat rats. And you know what, Jake? I couldn't be prouder."

The following day, I woke up shortly after noon. I had a splitting headache and was very parched. After drinking a little water from the bathroom facet, I found Gary asleep in one of the bedrooms, and I lightly shook him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Sorry, guy," I replied, "but it's past noon already and I really have to work tomorrow. We've got to be taking off soon."

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "Let me just take a quick shower and we'll go."

About half an hour later, we slowly walked out of the house and drove off.

"That was the best fucking 4th of July of my entire life," Gary whispered as we got onto the highway. "It's too bad that I'm not going to remember much of it."

As we were both tired, we didn't say much to each other on the way back until we approached the New Jersey border.

"So tell me, what are you going to do after graduation?" I asked him while we were waiting to pay a toll.

"Well, I'm definitely going to get a job. My father is in the construction business, and he says that he knows a couple of companies that are always looking for young engineers. Eventually though, I would like to get a master's degree. But it'll have to be a part-time thing. I really need to start earning money right away. What about yourself?"

"I really don't know. That's the scary thing."

"Well, you've got pretty good grades, Jake. I'm sure you'll find something. You know, the tough part is getting that first job. After that, it won't be difficult at all. And you're certainly in a better position than a lot of the other guys. I don't know if you know it, but there are quite a few guys in the house, without mentioning names, who probably won't even graduate with us. I really don't understand it, to be perfectly honest with you. Maybe it's because my father busted his ass to put me through school. I couldn't even imagine getting a bad grade, let alone not passing a course. My father would literally kick my fucking ass. And you know what? I would deserve it."

The rest of the summer seemed to pass quickly; a little too quickly. As I was leaving the Empire State Building for the last time, I stopped and said good-bye to a few of the guys working in the main lobby.

"Oh, that's too bad," Steve Weiss said to me as he shook my hand. "We'll miss you around here. So, when will you be back?"

"Well, I'm graduating this year, Steve. So I won't be back."

"Oh," Steve smiled, "that's what they all say. "You'll be back; you'll be back. You know, I've worked in this building now for over fifteen years, and in the end, everyone comes back."

2006-05-25T20:28:00.000-07:00

"Oh, wretched memory that compels to remember the paths we took to arrive at the present state of affairs!"

-- Witold Gombrowicz

1 - Hold My Calls
2 - Do You Drink Beer?
3 - Get Down, You Big Brown Cow
4 - I Hope You Get Pregnant Tonight
5 - Passing by the Thin Skin of One's Balls
6 - Bidding Farewell
7 - Brotherly Love
8 - The Summer of Breakfasts at Denny's
9 - Sophomorons
10 - When a Frat Is Not a Frat
11 - The Best of All Possible Weekends
12 - Brother's Keeper
13 - White Wedding
14 - The Summer of Highs and Lows
15 - One Small Sip
16 - Too Bad, I Did Her
17 - Fun Is the Best Thing to Have

17

2006-05-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

17

Fun Is the Best Thing to Have

HAVING spent my first two spring breaks at home, not doing much more than watching television, I was excited when Dennis started talking about organizing a spring break trip to Fort Lauderdale. Although I had never spent much time at the beach, I was intrigued by all the rumors about how Fort Lauderdale was such a wild place during spring break.

In late February, Dennis, Gary, Little Paul, a pledge named Mike Flynn, and I met in Dennis's room to finalize plans for the trip.

"The only thing, guys," Dennis said after he offered to use his car for the trip, "I'm really not sure if my old convertible can make it all the way down to Florida and back. All I ask is that if something happens to the car along the way, we all chip in to repair it."

"Maybe it would be a better idea just to rent a car," Gary replied. "I mean, you shouldn't have to risk your car. Besides, I really don't want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere."

"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure that she'll make it all right. Besides, renting a car would cost a fortune; and that's money that can be better spent on beer and loose women."

A week before we left, Dennis and I were sitting together in the main room of the house watching television with a few other people.

"Jake, have you ever been to Fort Lauderdale before?" he asked during a commercial break.

"Never. In fact, I have only been to Florida once, and that was to Disney World when I was a kid. I barely even remember it."

"Well, I went to Lauderdale freshman year. And let me tell you, if it's anything at all like it was when I was there last, we are going to have a hell of a time."

Just then, Al, who was rushing by me as the commercial break ended, suddenly tripped on the carpet, and spilled most of his beer on my leg.

"Fucking Roxal!" I screamed.

"I'm sorry, Jake," he apologized. "It was an accident."

"Your whole life is an accident! Look, now I've got beer all over my fucking leg!"

As this was happening, Michelle Fell walked into the room and kissed Dennis. Michelle, who had been given the nickname Michelle Fellatio because of a certain talent she had, was a little sister Dennis occasionally dated. When she saw what happened to me, she started giggling.

"Oh, Jake," she quipped in a nasty tone, "you poor boy. Would you like me to lick it off?"

"You fucking bitch!" I screamed at her. "Why don't you get the fuck out of this house!"

She quickly turned to Dennis, expecting him to say something.

"Dennis," she finally said after it became apparent that no comment from Dennis was forthcoming, "are you going to let him talk to me like that?"

Dennis briefly looked at me, before turning back to Michelle.

"You heard the man. Get the fuck out of this house!"

As she was leaving, she stopped at the entrance to the main room and turned back to Dennis.

"Boy, Dennis," she said angrily, "are you going to regret this. Believe me, you're going to regret this! Don't think that you can't be replaced!"

"Yeah? Well you'll have to find yourself an awfully big tire iron, baby!"

"Hey, Dennis," Tom said after she stormed out of the house, "I've heard that you have a thirteen-inch penis, fully erect. Is that really true?"

"Well, Tom, to be perfectly honest, I can't say that it's exactly thirteen inches. I did measure it once though with one of those foot-long wooden rulers. You know the kind, like the ones you used in grammar school. While it was certainly larger than the ruler, thirteen inches is an approximation only."

"I'm really sorry, Dennis," I apologized. "I guess I've just ruined your evening. She just really pissed me off though."

"Forget it," he smiled. "You have nothing to apologize for. Besides, who really cares? Let me tell you something, Jake: one of the truly great things about vagina is that just about half the world's population has one. So, it's hardly the scarce resource some women would like to have you believe it is."

He then put his arm around my shoulder and continued.

"I just can't wait until we get to Lauderdale. This time next week all five of us are going to be jousting with beautiful, blonde beach bunnies."

Early Friday morning, as none of us had classes that day, we left on the almost twenty-hour trip to Fort Lauderdale, which we planned to split into two days by stopping at Dennis's twin brother's dormitory in northern Florida. After stuffing all our bags into the trunk of Dennis's old red Dodge convertible, we stuffed ourselves into the car. I sat in the back seat, tightly squeezed in between Gary and Mike, while Paul sat in the front with Dennis.

"Boy," I thought, "this is going to be a long drive."

At the Virginia-North Carolina border, we stopped at McDonald's for a quick breakfast. Next to the restaurant was a stationary store, and Dennis and I went there after breakfast to buy some magazines for the trip down. Dennis picked up a Playboy and a Penthouse and brought them over to the register.

"I'm going to need to see some identification, son" the overweight, middle-aged woman behind the counter said in a thick Southern accent.

"Are you serious?" Dennis asked.

"You better believe I'm serious, young man. You need to be at least eighteen years of age to purchase this kind of material."

As we drove off, Dennis threw the magazines back.

"Now, Jake," he said, "please don't get the pages sticky; I would really like to be able to read them later."

"Very funny, asshole," I replied. "Actually, I was thinking of wiping my ass with them. Would that be okay with you?"

"Well, I guess it all depends on how badly your asshole smells."

A few hours before dark, we stopped at South of the Border to get something to eat. Dennis also bought thirty to forty dollars' worth of fireworks, everything from firecrackers to some really serious-looking rockets.

"Dennis, what are you going to do with all that shit?" Paul asked. "Are you planning to start a war down there?"

Dennis just smiled and quipped, "Hmm, something like that."

After we got off the highway in Florida, en route to Dennis's brother Tim's school, Dennis somehow took a wrong turn, and we got a little lost. After a few minutes, Dennis decided to pull over to the side of the road. He then opened the door, and while still sitting in the car, put his hand on the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing, Dennis?" Gary asked.

"Whenever I get lost, I put my hand on the ground, and somehow I get the inspiration to find my way."

When we finally found Tim's school about an hour later, it was almost ten o'clock. As we stepped out of the car, we were surprised at how cold it was.

"My God," Gary said, "I didn't think that it would get this cold at night in Florida."

"Don't worry," Dennis replied, "this is northern Florida. In Fort Lauderdale it'll be much warmer at night. Besides, we'll be so drunk, we won't notice the difference anyway."

Tim lived on the top floor of a medium-sized six-story dormitory. After we walked out of the elevator, we found Tim's room and Dennis knocked on the door.

"Great to see you, Den," Tim said as he hugged his brother and greeted us into his room. "I had a feeling you'd be here shortly."

"I guess you must have smelled us coming," Dennis said.

"That must have been it."

I looked around Tim's small room and was surprised to see a case of warm Wiedermann lying in the corner.

"Wiedermann?" I said. "You've got to be kidding. Don't tell me that they sell this shit down here as well."

"Unfortunately, they don't," Tim said. "So every time I'm up in the DC area, I load my car up with it. Right now, I've only got two cases left. The other case is chilling in the refrigerator for you guys. I only drink it on special occasions like this."

Even though Dennis and Tim were twins, I found the resemblance between the two brothers amazing. Not only did they have the same type of physique and clothes, they talked and acted almost identically.

"I guess people must have a hard time telling you two apart," I said.

"Not really," Tim replied. "We're not exact twins, you know. My dick's bigger."

"Maybe by a shade," Dennis said.

"A shade, my ass. It's at least an inch bigger, and you know it. Mine's fatter, too."

"Well, if it is bigger, it's only because you masturbated more when we were growing up."

"That could be. That could very well be."

After we finished the case of beer, we went to a local bar and drank there until it closed. We then somehow managed to make it back to Tim's dorm room, where we all slept on the floor. When we woke up the next morning, we all seemed to be in agony from hangovers and sore backs.

"Well, it was great to see you, Den," Tim said as he hugged his brother good-bye outside the dorm room. "It's too bad my spring break isn't for another few weeks, otherwise you know I'd be joining you guys."

We then walked outside to a beautiful, warm day.

"I don't know about you guys," Gary said, "but I'm going to put on some shorts."

Standing behind the car, we all changed our clothes. As we were finishing, two pretty female students, who just happened to be walking by, started whistling at us.

"Hey, ladies," Dennis said, "we're going to Fort Lauderdale. Why don't you come join us?"

"I don't know," one of them replied. "It doesn't look like there is going to be enough room in your car for us."

"You can sit on our laps! I promise you that you'll be very comfortable."

"Maybe next time," the other girl said. "Y'all have a good time though."

Before we started on the seven-hour journey to Fort Lauderdale, Dennis pulled the convertible's top down.

"Hey, Jake," Mike said to me, a few minutes after we got on the highway, "did you bring any suntan lotion with you?"

"No. Why? Do you think I'll need it?"

"As pale as you are, I would definitely buy some as soon as we get down there. Otherwise, you're going to get really badly burned."

About half-way there, a group of students drove up to us. They were all drunk.

"Hey, guys," one of them screamed, "you going to Lauderdale?"

"Yes," Dennis screamed back. "What about you guys?"

"Absolutely. Hey, maybe we'll see you down there. In the mean time, how are you fixed with beer?"

"At the moment, we haven't any."

They threw us a couple of cans of beer and quickly drove off.

When we finally got to Fort Lauderdale, I was amazed by the number of young people walking in the streets.

"Welcome to Sodom and Gomorrah, gentlemen," Dennis said as we stopped at a red light. "Why don't one of you guys go buy some beer while we're waiting. There's a liquor store right over there."

Gary jumped out of the car and ran into the liquor store. By the time he started running back to the car with a case of beer under his arms, the light turned green.

"Man," he said, trying to catch his breath, "that had to have been the quickest purchase of beer in history."

A few minutes later, we arrived at the motel. Although it was a run-down dump, it was relatively cheap and also right on the strip, only a block or so from the ocean. After we dropped off our bags, we went to a nearby liquor store and bought an additional four cases, so that there would be a case for each of us. As soon as we returned to the room, we put all the beer in the bath tub and filled the tub with ice.

"I have a question, guys," Paul said while we were waiting for the beer to get cold. "If we are going to keep the beer in the bathtub, how are we going to take showers?"

"Who's going to take a shower?" Dennis replied.

"Don't worry about it," Gary said. "The ice will melt by morning. We'll then take the remaining beer out of the tub. That is, if there is any beer remaining. Afterward, we'll fill it up with ice again."

"Wow," Paul said, seemingly impressed with Gary's logic. "Now I can see why you're going to be an engineer. I would've never thought of that."

A few minutes later, I walked into the bathroom. When I happened to look into the mirror, I saw that my face was completely red.

"Oh, my God, did I get burned!" I said to myself in astonishment. "How could I get so sunburned just on the drive down?"

"I told you, Jake, that you had better get some lotion," Mike said after I walked out of the bathroom. "If I were you, I would immediately go to a drugstore and buy some. I think I saw a place just down the street."

Early that evening, we went to a large bar on the strip that was having a happy hour special. Like a number of other places on the strip, they offered all you could drink and all the pasta you could eat for only ten dollars. As getting a drink at the bar was next to impossible, we settled for the cans of Busch beer that were lying in large garbage cans throughout the bar.

"I don't understand why people are going through all that hassle to get a drink at the bar," Gary said as he started on his second beer, "when all the beer you could possibly want is just sitting here. The stupidity of some people will never cease to amaze me."

We stayed at the bar well past happy hour, and it seemed as if by eight, everyone there, including ourselves, was drunk. Just before we left, we tried to start a conversation with a cute girl who was sitting by herself at the table next to us, but she was too drunk to be very talkative.

"Fun is the best thing to have," was all she kept repeating.

"I'm sorry, young lady, to have to correct you," Mike finally said after she repeated herself for the fourth time. "Fun isn't the best thing to have; a Tau Mu is the best thing to have!"

When I woke up the following day a little past noon, I felt as if I had a fever. I walked into the bathroom and found that my face was completely covered with large sun blisters.

"Oh, boy," I thought. "Now I'm really fucked."

I bought some sunburn gels and aspirin, and spent most of the day in bed while the others went to the beach.

"This is just great," I thought while I watched television. "I came all this way to be at the beach, and I'll probably spend the entire week inside watching television. I could have done this just as easily at home."

That evening, the four of them decided to stay at the motel and work on the massive amounts of beer that was still sitting in our bathtub. While they were hanging out in the hallway, they met a group of girls who were staying in a room down the hall from us. After everyone left the hallway, I fell asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, I heard people talking outside our door.

"So where do you guys want to go?" I heard a girl ask.

"To be real honest," Gary said, "I'm still recovering from last night. I think that I'm just going to go to bed. The week is still young."

"You know, that's not such a bad idea," Mike added as he opened our door.

"My God, what a bunch of pussies you are!" she said. "You guys are all talk."

"Why don't you come by tomorrow," Gary said, "and we'll see who's a pussy."

When the guys walked inside, Mike turned on the light.

"So how are you feeling, Jake?" he asked.

"A little better, I guess. How are you guys doing?"

"Not bad. We just spent the last few hours with those chicks from down the hall. They're pretty cute, but I think that they're basically just cunts though."

"Where's Dennis?" I asked.

"Dennis as we speak is trying to make some time with this really hot-looking brunette. In fact, we just left their room so he could have a little privacy."

About an hour later, we all woke up when Dennis came stumbling into the room.

"Did you get laid, Dennis?" Mike asked.

"No," Dennis answered as he tried to find his way to his bed.

"So what went wrong, Den?" Gary asked. "What happened, couldn't you close the deal?"

"No, it wasn't anything like that at all," Dennis said as he started clumsily undressing. "I just couldn't get her wet enough."

"What?" Paul screamed. "You couldn't get her wet enough? That has to be the lamest excuse I've ever heard."

"I'm serious, guys," Dennis replied. "For a woman to take the full size of my girth, there simply has to be sufficient moisture."

"So, I guess that means you don't get too much anal sex, huh?" Gary quipped.

"Well, I tried it once with Michelle, but I couldn't get much more than my head inside. And believe me, after years of extremely unorthodox use, Michelle doesn't exactly have what you would call a tight anus."

A couple of days later, I woke up to find that my blisters had almost completely disappeared and that my fever was gone. After taking a quick shower, I walked into the room and saw that only Mike was awake. He was sitting in front of the television with the volume turned down low, seemingly mesmerized by a rerun of The Newlywed Game that must have been at least twenty years old.

"Have you met George yet?" I asked him.

"Just briefly. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. I just think that you might find you have a few things in common."

After spending my first afternoon at the beach, we went to an outdoor bar that was holding a wet T-shirt contest. One after another, pretty young girls would stand on a pedestal wearing only the bar's T-shirt and bikini bottoms, as lots of cold water was splashed on them. The winner was the girl who received the best ovation from the crowd, and the crowd was quite vocal. With each new contestant, guys would scream, "Take it off!" and "Skin to win!," and a few girls actually removed their T-shirts. After one relatively small breasted girl removed her T-shirt, one of the guys screamed, "You call those tits? Show us your fucking pussy!" The girl's face turned bright-red and she quickly ran off the stage. It looked as if she were almost in tears.

"Obviously, there are a lot of modern, sensitive guys at this bar," I said.

"Hey," Gary replied, "it's not like anyone is forcing them to compete."

We stayed at the bar well into the evening. When we were finally getting ready to leave, a short, heavy-set guy approached us.

"Hey, are you guys Tau Mu?" he asked, pointing to Paul's gold Tau Mu jersey.

He then gave each of us the secret handshake.

"Hi, my name is Bill. I'm a Tau Mu from the University of Georgia. It's good to see some brothers here. You're the first ones I've noticed."

We bought another round of beer and talked to Bill about the fraternity. When we told him where we were from, he seemed surprised.

"You fellows are from Washington, DC?" he asked. "Is that right. I didn't even know we had a chapter that far north. I thought that we were strictly a Southern fraternity. . . . Washington, DC. I guess you guys have a lot of problems with your niggers up there, eh? You know, I just can't stand fucking niggers. That's what's so great about our fraternity: no fucking niggers. Well, that is, apart from the few we let in a number of years back after that stupid fucking lawsuit. Did you guys hear about that? The ACLU had some fucking Jew lawyer try the case, and of course, we lost. Man, if there is anything I hate more than the niggers, it must be the fucking Jews. They always got to be messing into other people's business. Those money-grubbing cocksuckers! I tell you, of all the mud people in this world, they're absolutely the worst."

"Yeah," I said. "I know what you mean. And you know what's the worst thing about the Jews? Unlike all the other mud people, you can be standing right in front of one of them cocksuckers without even knowing it."

"Bullshit! Hell, I can tell a fucking Jew a mile away. Why, they ain't anything like us at all. They all got these big, fucking crooked noses. No, they ain't like us at all."

We listened to Bill spout his nonsense for another few minutes, before all of us had had enough.

"You know, Bill," Dennis finally said, "my daddy is black. He's pretty light-skinned and all, that's why I look so white."

"Get the fuck out of here! You've got to be joking. You can't be a fucking nigger--you've got blond hair!"

"Well, I am a fucking nigger! And if you don't get your stinking white ass out of my face, I'll round up some of my brothers and we'll beat the living fuck out of you!"

The smile that had been on Bill's face since he had walked up to us suddenly disappeared. He walked away without saying another word. As soon as he left, Gary slapped Dennis's open palm.

"That was pretty funny, Den," he laughed.

"Wow," Paul said. "Dennis, I didn't know your father was black."

After we quickly finished our beers, we walked back to the motel.

"Are a lot of Tau Mu brothers across the country like that guy?" Mike asked us on the way back.

"Not at all," Dennis replied. "Last summer I went to the national convention, and most of the guys were pretty decent. At least from a distance."

"The important thing, Mike," Gary added, "is that it really doesn't matter what the guys in other chapters are like, it only matters what the people in our own house are like. And there's certainly no one like that in our house. In fact, I've never met a better bunch of guys."

Early Saturday morning, we packed back into Dennis's car for the long trip back to school.

"I can't believe that we spent a whole week in this place and none of us got laid," Paul said as we drove off.

"Well, some of us didn't exactly try," Gary said. "Some of us don't need to."

"So, none of us got laid," Dennis said. "Big, fucking deal. At least we all have nice tans . . . except Jake of course. And we all had a great time . . . except Jake of course."

That evening, we stopped along the highway for dinner at a McDonald's in North Carolina.

"You know, guys," Dennis said to us while we finished eating, "if we were to get off at the next exit and head due west, we'd be heading directly toward Arkansas."

"Yeah?" Gary said. "And your point?"

"Well, my point is that for a long time I've had this thing about Arkansas. Okay, so it's on the map and it's written about in books. But do we really know it exists? I've never been there, and I've been all over the country. I don't even know anyone who's been to Arkansas. Of course, it depends on you guys, but I really wouldn't mind taking a little detour there."

"How long would this little detour take?" Gary asked.

"I guess theoretically about seven hours. That is, if Arkansas is really there."

"What about your car, Dennis? I think we'd be really pushing it."

"She's been real good so far. I'm sure she could handle it."

"Well, I'm definitely against it," Paul said. "I've got to get back tomorrow. I have a shit load of things to do."

"We'll be back tomorrow regardless," Dennis insisted. "The only difference is that we'll be back tomorrow evening as opposed to tomorrow morning. So what do you say, guys? Let's take a vote on it."

"I'm in," Mike said. "You know, I think you just might be on to something, Dennis. I mean, imagine if we were to find that Arkansas really doesn't exist. Think of what a discovery we would be making."

"I'm sorry, Dennis," Gary finally said after thinking about it for a few seconds. "But personally, I feel pretty confident that Arkansas exists, and I really don't want to spend an extra fourteen hours in the car if I don't have to."

"So, I guess it all rests on me," I said, my eyes focused on Dennis. "You really want to do this, don't you, Den?"

Dennis gave me a big smile and nodded his head like a little puppy dog.

"Well then, let's fucking do it!"

"I love you, Jake!" Dennis screamed as he lunged across the table and kissed me on the cheek. "If you were a chick, I'd let you suck my dick right now."

As Dennis drove a little faster than he had been driving, we were able to make it to the Arkansas border in under six and a half hours. After we crossed the border, Dennis pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. While Dennis, Mike, and I got out of the car to take a look around, Gary and Paul stayed in the car and tried to sleep. Looking out onto the highway in the distance, we saw that the sun was just beginning to rise.

"Wow," Dennis said, breaking a few moments of silence. "Arkansas really does exist!"

He then walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Thank you, Jake. This was possible only because of you."

Moments later, Dennis took out a few of his rockets from the trunk of his car and fired them across the highway.

"You know," he said, "I was saving them for a special occasion like this."

"Hey, guys," Gary yawned as he leaned his head out of the window, probably woken up by the sound of the fireworks, "do you think we can go now? That is, before we all get arrested or something."

Late Sunday evening, we finally made it back to Washington.

"You know what?" Mike said, a few blocks away from the house. "That dumb broad in the bar was right. Fun really is the best thing to have."

16

2006-05-25T18:42:00.000-07:00

16

Too Bad, I Did Her

THE little sisters at Tau Mu were sort of an anomaly. They were not really members of the fraternity, nor were they a sorority. At the beginning of the spring semester, a number of the brothers, and even a few of the little sisters themselves, began to question whether they should continue existing as a group. Belinda, who was nominally the head of the little sisters, got upset by this talk and decided to make the little sisters a more active part of the fraternity. Her plan was to organize an event at least once a month.

"I know we are not brothers," she said at our first joint meeting, "but we really feel that we are a legitimate part of the fraternity, albeit unofficial. Speaking for myself, I'm a member of a sorority, but as much as I love each and every one of my sisters, to me, this is a whole lot more fun."

The first event Belinda planned was a happy hour at a bar near the Capitol named The Tiber Creek Pub.

"I've been there once for happy hour," George said. "It's not a bad place at all. The beers are fucking huge! The only problem is that sometimes it's difficult to drink out of the glasses without spilling your beer."

"George, do you know what time they have happy hour?" Belinda asked.

"I believe it's from five 'til seven."

"So what time should we all meet?" Beth asked.

"Well," Buffy replied, "George just said that it doesn't start until 6:55."

Early the following Friday evening, about a dozen of us, including only about five brothers, met at the pub.

"You know, I'm kind of disappointed about the number of brothers who came," Belinda said shortly after we ordered.

"Don't worry about it, Belinda," George said. "It's not the quantity, it's the quality. Unless of course, you're talking about beer."

A few minutes later, the waiter brought each of us a half-yard of beer. The glasses were so large that he had to place them in wooden stands by the table.

"My God!" Belinda shouted. "I've never seen a beer this big before. George, how in the world do you drink out of these glasses?"

"Well, it's more of an art than a science. Lift your glass slowly into the air like this, and then slowly spin the glass as you bring it close to your face. Be careful though when you come down to the bulb--the beer can really rush out at you."

"How did you figure all this out?"

"Trial and error, Belinda. Trial and error. You're lucky we didn't order the full-yards. They're really a challenge. In fact, you have to stand up just to drink them.

About ten minutes later, we seemed to run out of things to say to one another, so Belinda tried to start a conversation.

"So, Joseph," she said, "I really don't know you very well at all. Tell me a little bit about yourself. Like, what's your major?"

"Well, I was fucking leaning toward history, but now I'm not so fucking sure. All those fucking facts you have to fucking remember; it's all just fucking bullshit. But it doesn't really fucking matter; I just want to have a good, fucking time."

Belinda then leaned over to me and whispered into my ear.

"Jake, why is he cursing so much?"

"Who the fuck knows?" I whispered back.

While the happy hour was certainly not an overwhelming success, the next little sister event was far more eagerly anticipated. They organized what they called a "Porn 'til Dawn" night one Thursday evening. From 9:00 P.M. until the early morning, they showed about a half-dozen pornographic videos.

That evening, I arrived at the house just before they started showing the videos. When I walked into the main room, I saw Joey sitting on the couch, reading from the sleeve of the first video that was to be shown.

"Wow," he said. "I just read a review about this flick in Hustler. They gave it a 'full erection.' Supposedly, it has one of the best pearl-necklace scenes ever filmed. You know, you just got to love our little sisters for having this event. What a classy bunch of broads."

"Joey!" Beth screeched.

"What's the matter, baby?" Joey whispered as he put his hand on her knee. "I thought I was giving you guys a compliment."

"Some fucking compliment!"

Jason, who was sitting next to Joey on the couch, grabbed the video sleeve and smiled.

"Joey, this is one great video," he said. "I've already seen it a few times. Let me tell you, there won't be a dry pair of underwear left in the entire room."

"Oh, Joey!" Beth cried. "He's so fucking disgusting! Can't you do something about him?"

"Jason," Joey sternly said as he waved his finger, "I'm going to warn you right now: during this and all videos to follow, I don't want to hear any moaning, groaning, or any other rude, animal-like sounds coming out of your mouth. And if you make any kind of mess whatsoever, you're cleaning it up yourself."

"Don't worry, big guy. I'm in complete control this evening."

About twenty minutes into the first video, George jumped out of his seat and screamed.

"Oh, my God! I can't fucking believe it! Ginger Lynn's taking it up the ass! Guys, she hasn't done that in three years!"

"Hey, George," Joey said, "I read somewhere that Ginger Lynn is going to be at a video store in DC in a few weeks to promote her new video. Do you want to go?"

"Are you kidding? I'll be there with bells on."

"Great, maybe we can even make a fraternity outing of it."

When the lights were turned on at the end of the video, Jason slowly stood up. He then pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping the sweat off his forehead. His small erection, struggling beneath his tight, bright red, 100 percent polyester slacks, was obvious to almost everyone in the room.

"Guys, I've got to be going," he said as he stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket. "I've got a load of wash to do back home. And it needs to be done by hand, if you fellows follow me."

As soon as Jason left the house, the entire room erupted into laughter.

"Poor Jay," Joey said. "You know, we really ought to find him a woman."

"You mean, a human woman?" Beth quipped.

"Yes, a human woman. There's got to be someone out there for him. Hell, there's someone for everyone."

"Joey, I don't think you could even pay someone enough money to touch him."

"Don't be so sure, Beth. I have an awful lot of money."

Two weeks later, a handful of us packed into Joey's car and went to see Ginger Lynn at the video store. The store, which was not too far away from Union Station, was packed with men. When we finally got a good look inside, we saw an incredibly long line of people waiting to get Ginger Lynn's autograph.

"I'm not waiting in this line," Joey said. "We'll be here for an hour."

"Well, there is no fucking way that I'm leaving here without an autograph," George replied.

"Fine, then you can take the Metro back. I'm just going to rent her new video and get out of here. This place is a fucking madhouse."

"Okay," George said. "No problem. Hey, does anyone else want to wait with me for an autograph?"

"Are you kidding, Dee?" Jason replied. "This is my wet dream come true."

"Well, I'm not really interested in an autograph," I said, "but I'll wait here with you guys. I actually find this pretty amusing."

A little more than half an hour later, George and Jason finally got to the front of the line.

"Miss Lynn," George politely said, "I just want to say that you're the best thing that has happened to porn since Johnny Wad. You're the model that all future porn queens will have to aspire to."

"Why, thank you," she cooed. "What's your name, handsome?"

"George. George DePalma. Miss Lynn, would you mind signing my cheek?"

"Well, that all depends on which set of cheeks you have in mind."

George quickly pointed to his face, and Ginger signed his left cheek with her thick black marker.

"Excuse me, Ginger," Jason said when it was his turn, "but can I ask you a question? Are you in any way related to Amber Lynn?"

Ginger looked at Jason with disgust.

"Fuck you, asshole!" she finally screamed. "Hey, somebody get this fucking dork out of my face!"

As we were leaving the store, I could not help but laugh at George and his autograph.

"I can't believe that you had her write her signature on your face," I said. "How long are you planning to leave it on?"

"Are you kidding, Jake?" he answered. "I'm never washing my face again!"

I then looked over at Jason and saw that he was dejected.

"I can't believe I waited all that time in line and I didn't get an autograph," he said.

"Well, it serves you right," George replied. "Maybe next time you won't be so obnoxious."

"I guess you're right, Dee. But gee whiz though, I just never thought that someone who swallows come for a living could be so easily insulted."

"Well, she was plenty insulted, believe me. And you as much as anyone should know that she can't stand Amber Lynn."

"How do you know all this, Dee?" I asked. "Do they put out fan magazines?"

On the Metro ride back to Foggy Bottom, the three of us sat together.

"Even though I didn't get an autograph," Jason said, "it was still an incredible experience getting to see Ginger Lynn live and in-person. It was like putting the fox in the chicken coupe!"

"Hey, Jay," I said as I noticed him holding a brown paper bag, "did you buy something?"

"Oh, just a little gift for myself. It's the collector's edition of Let Me Tell You About White Chicks/Let Me Tell You About Black Chicks. They are two of my favorite porn flicks of all time. Have you ever seen them, Jake?"

"No, I can't say that I have."

"Well, Let Me Tell You About B-B-B-B-Black Chicks is an undeniable classic, but I must admit that I have a preference toward Let Me Tell You About White Chicks. I especially love the scene when this big black guy says to this ugly fat white chick, 'Hey, can I put some of this chocolate cake on your pussy? It'll taste oh so good!' "

"Hey, asshole!" George loudly whispered into Jason's ear. "Don't you see that angry-looking black man over there staring at us. Why don't you shut the fuck up, before he comes over here and beats the living shit out of all of us!"

"Oh, calm down, Dee," Jason calmly replied. "He's probably just staring at your stupid autograph. Or maybe he likes you."

That semester, despite an ever-increasing fascination with pornography, a lot of my friends began forming serious relationships with women.

In early March, more than a few of us were surprised when Gary started seriously dating Belinda. It was not long thereafter that everyone stopped calling her "Belinda Blow Job," even behind her back. For the next year and a half it was a rare occurrence not to see the two of them together at a party or at the Black Rooster, and it surprised no one when they got married shortly after graduation.

Just a few weeks after Gary started dating Belinda, I was visiting Tom one afternoon in his room when we heard George singing in the hallway something that vaguely resembled Billy Ocean's "Suddenly." It was so horribly off-key, though, that both of us thought that maybe George was in some kind of pain or delirium. So we rushed into the hallway to see what was the matter.

George, who was walking into his room, stopped singing when he saw us coming toward him.

"Are you okay, Dee?" Tom asked as the three of us walked into George's room together.

"Darling," he replied, "I'm marvelous. Guys, I'm in fucking love. I know you've heard me say it before, but this time it's for real. Jake, do you remember Karen from freshman year? You know, our fourth roommate? I saw her last night at Odd's. It turns out that she finally broke up with Ronny. Well, we started talking, and somehow I came up with enough courage to ask her out. And believe it or not, she said 'yes.' I'm so fucking psyched!"

"George, if I remember correctly," Tom said, "that girl is Jewish. Are you trying to tell me that you are in love with a Jew? I can't believe it! Fucking Dee is going to be a goddamn Jew-bagger!"

"Oh listen to you, Tom. You date only Jewish girls. In fact, you told me that you were going to marry a Jewish girl."

"Yes, George, I am going to marry a Jewish girl. But I have no choice in the matter. You're actually doing this out of your own free will. You know, I never thought you were such a masochist!"

"George," I smiled, "could I give you a little piece of friendly advice? And please don't take it the wrong way. But when you start dating Karen, and that special moment finally comes, you might want to think twice before you come all over her face. She just might take it the wrong way."

"Ha-ha-ha; very funny. Listen guys, I can't stress this enough: what ever you do, please be careful about what you say in front of her. And that goes double for the rest of the slobs in this house. I don't want to blow this one; I have a really good feeling about her."

A few weeks later, Karen came to the house for her first Tau Mu party. I greeted her in the hallway when she walked inside.

"Hello, Jake," she said as she offered me her hand.

"Hi, how are you doing?" I said. "My God, Karen, I don't think that I've seen you more than once or twice in the last few years."

She nervously smiled at me, obviously feeling uneasy about being in the house.

"Hi, honey," George said as he quickly came over and kissed her. "Here, let me take your coat. Would you like a beer? I'd offer you some of the punch, but I don't think you'd really want it if you knew what was in it."

"A beer will be fine, George," she replied.

"Great, then why don't you make yourself at home. Talk to Jake a little. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

I showed her into the main room and we sat down together on one of the couches.

"So, what's up with Ronny?" I asked. "You know, I've seen him even less in the last few years than I've seen you."

"Oh, he's around. I guess you've heard that we broke up. One day I'm sure he'll make someone a great husband, but right now, I think he just wants to have fun. And there's certainly no shortage of women around campus willing to give it to him. We're still good friends though, which is important to me. We talk to each other at least once a week. You know, I'll always love the guy."

Just then, George rushed up to us and handed Karen a beer.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, "but I've got to take care of something downstairs. It shouldn't take too long though. I'll be right back."

After George walked away, she turned back to me and smiled.

"I guess you were probably surprised to find out that George and I were going out?"

"Well, maybe a little bit. But I must say, I've never seen him like this. He's really crazy about you."

"I know, and I like him a lot, too. But what do you think? Am I completely out of my mind?"

"No, not at all. Honestly, I don't think that you could've picked a better guy."

"Yeah, maybe. The only problem is, well, he's not Jewish. My parents are coming to visit me in a few weeks, and I don't know how I'm going to explain him to them. They're really weird about things like that."

"Well, I don't know what to say, but I'm sure things will work out. You know, if you would like, I could ask one of the guys to break George's nose. At least then he would look more Jewish."

"No, that's okay," she smiled. "I like his nose just the way it is, thank you."

At about the same time George began dating Karen, Brian started going out with a little sister named Melissa. Late one evening, while the two of us were walking home together from the Black Rooster, we stopped by the house for a beer. When we walked inside, we saw Joey sitting in the main room by himself watching a pornographic video. He was so drunk that he looked almost comatose. As I poured both Brian and myself a beer, we continued the conversation we were having.

"Like I said," Brian began, "I really think Melissa is pretty special. You know, I don't think I've ever felt this strongly about any girl in my whole life. I just can't stop thinking about her. It's really strange; I think I'm in love with her. She--"

"Too bad," Joey interrupted, "I did her! He-he-he."

Although Joey often bragged about his sexual exploits, it seemed that he pretty much stayed faithful to Beth. At least once a day, in between classes, Beth would visit the house for some quick sex. One afternoon, while a few of us were watching television in the main room, Beth ran into the house.

"Okay, Joey," she said as she tried to catch her breath, "I've only got ten minutes before my next class, so let's hurry."

Joey quickly got up off the couch and the two of them rushed upstairs. Before long, we began hearing the pounding of Joey's bed against the floor. A few minutes later, Little Paul, who lived in the room next door to Joey, walked down the stairs looking rather disheveled.

"Jesus Christ," he said. "I was taking a little nap, and then all of sudden, I was woken up by what I thought was an earthquake. My walls were literally shaking!"

Just then, Joey and Beth calmly walked downstairs together, hand in hand.

"Thanks, Joey," she said as she kissed him good-bye on the cheek. "I really needed that."

After she left, Joey slowly strolled into the main room.

"Man," he whispered as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, "she fucks like a banshee."

The following Sunday, Joey arrived late for the brothers meeting.

"I really apologize for not showing up on time," he said when it was his turn to speak at the end of the meeting. "Beth and I were visiting her parents this weekend, and I got caught in traffic on the way back. Let me tell you though, I had a real strange experience today. As we were driving away this afternoon, Beth's father all of a sudden came running after the car, frantically waving his arms. So of course, I stopped. When he finally got to the car, he was completely out of breath. I rolled down the window to find out what was the matter, and he handed Beth a brown paper bag. 'I'm glad I caught you, dear,' he says, 'you forgot your birth control pills.' "

Joey and Beth did have their ups and downs, however. They frequently argued, and quite often it got nasty. One unusually warm winter afternoon, I was talking to George and a few other guys on the front steps of the house. Our conversation abruptly came to an end though, when we heard Joey screaming into the house pay phone.

"You fucking cunt-bitch! You can go fuck yourself, for all I fucking care! . . . Yeah? Well, go to fucking hell, you fucking cunt-whore-slut!"

He then violently hung up the phone and began slowly walking toward us, looking as if he wanted to kill someone.

"Hey, Joey," George smiled, "who was that on the phone? Your mother?"

Joey stopped and began glaring at George.

"George," he calmly said, "you're fucking dead!"

Seconds later, he started chasing George down the street.

While Joey could at times be a bully, there were often occasions when his temperament was applied for good purposes. One afternoon, Beth was almost in tears as she talked about how her roommate Ellen was being physically abused by her boyfriend Seth.

"Joey, you've got to do something. He keeps beating her."

"Even in bed?" Joey asked.

"How would I know? And what kind of question is that?"

"Listen, Beth, what do you want me to do about it? You need to convince her to break up with the jerk."

"We've tried, but she doesn't listen to us. All she says is that she loves him, and that he doesn't mean to do it. Me and Jill though are really scared. He beat her up really badly last night. Her whole face was black and blue. I'm really worried about what he might do next. Please, can't you do something?"

"Okay, okay. If it'll make you happy, I'll go over there and have a little man-to-man talk with him."

About an hour later, Joey nonchalantly walked back into the house carrying a six-pack of beer.

"So," Beth cried, "did you talk to him?"

"Talk to whom?" Joey smiled.

"To Seth!"

"Oh, Seth. Yes, Seth and I had a very nice little man-to-man talk. That is, after I broke his hand. You know, I don't think he'll be hitting anyone for a very long time. Anyway, after I broke his hand, we sat down together and had a real nice chat. I told him plainly and clearly that he was not going to hit Ellen anymore. I simply explained to him that it's just not the way for a gentlemen to behave toward a lady. And you know what? Believe it or not, he was in complete agreement. He even gave me this six-pack as thanks for setting him straight."

Of course, while my friends seemed to be having great love lives, my love life was lousy. It was not as if I did not have opportunities. I just never seemed to be able to capitalize on them.

One Saturday evening, I returned to the dorm to find Sharon and a few other people sitting in the hallway chatting. I started talking with Sharon and before long we were sitting alone together. The subject somehow turned to her back and how that it was almost always hurting her. She had some type of back problem and often had to visit a masseuse.

"Boy," she said, "it's really killing me right now. What I wouldn't do for a massage."

"Well, I'm not an expert or anything," I remarked, "but I'd be willing to give it a try, if you are."

"Oh," she smiled warmly, "I thought you'd never ask."

We went into her room and she quickly took her blouse and skirt off, before lying face down on her bed wearing only a sexy black bra and panties. Although I had no idea what I was doing, by the way she was moaning, I must have been doing something right.

"Oh, Jake," she cooed, "your hands are just wonderful. You're better than some masseuses I have paid a lot of money for. Whatever you do, just don't stop!"

I continued massaging her back for another few minutes until she turned back to me and smiled.

"Jake, would you mind going just a little lower?" she whispered.

"No. I don't mind if you don't."

She then pulled her panties half-way down her behind, exposing most of her beautiful, shapely ass. I cupped both of her cheeks with my palms as my fingers gently massaged the bottom of her back. I guess at this point I should have made some kind of move, because before I knew it, she was fully dressed and kissing me goodnight. After taking a lukewarm shower, I tried to fall asleep, but I just kept turning in my bed. I spent the remainder of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how I could have blown such a perfect opportunity.

"Boy, am I a schmuck!" I finally whispered to myself.

15

2006-05-25T18:30:00.000-07:00

15

One Small Sip

TOWARD WHEN I returned to school in late August, I felt a little strange checking into the Mitchell Hall dormitory. As I didn't recognize anyone in the lobby, it was almost like being a freshman again. After I finished registering at the front desk, I picked up my bags and began walking toward the elevator. When the elevator door opened, Sarah Goldman walked out.

"Hi, how are you?" I nervously asked her.

"Oh, fine," she politely smiled. "And yourself? Did you have a good summer?"

"Very good. And yours?"

"Fine. Well, I guess I better get the rest of my things. I'll see you around."

I watched her for a few seconds as she walked away, before I finally stepped into the elevator.

"Why does she drive me so crazy?" I thought. "I know she isn't worth it. Hell, she's not even that good looking. So why can't I stop thinking about her? Why do I get so nervous whenever I talk to her? Why is it so important to me what she thinks about me?"

After I found my room on the fifth floor, I unpacked my clothes. A few minutes later, I walked down the hall to look at the communal bathroom and showers.

"This is going to take some getting used to," I whispered to myself as I inspected the stalls.

I then went to the fraternity house. When I walked inside, I saw Joey drinking beer and watching television by himself.

"Hey, how's it going?" I said to him. "When did you get back?"

"Oh, I never left; apart from the week I spent in Amsterdam in early June."

"Amsterdam? What was that like?"

"It's an incredible place, Jake. It's the only city I know where you can call room service and order two twin fourteen-year-old girls, blue paint, rope, and a pony; and have it put on your bill as 'champagne.' "

"Sounds interesting. How was the rest of the summer?"

"I had a pretty good time. If only it wasn't so fucking hot. And how about you? How was your summer?"

"Not bad. I had a union job, so I made pretty decent money without really having to work."

"Oh, I know all about those types of jobs. My uncle used to get me a job on the docks every summer. They're so boring though that I finally said the hell with it. I mean, it's not like I need the money or anything."

I then briefly turned my attention to the television and saw that he was watching some kind of war movie.

"So what are you watching, Joey?" I asked.

"Rambo 2. It's part of a mini-film festival I'm having. In fact, you've just missed the end of First Blood. Do you care to join me?"

"No, I don't think so. I never saw First Blood, so I'm sure that I wouldn't be able to follow the sequel. Hey, by the way, has George or Gary gotten back yet?"

"Not yet, but I think both of them will be here in the next few days. If you are interested, though, we are all going to the Rooster tonight. And as soon as enough guys get back, we're going to have a softball game 'slash' barbecue."

As I did not feel like hanging out at the house, I walked back to my dorm. When I got off the elevator, I saw a number of people in the hallway talking to each other. Based on their conversations, it seemed as if almost everyone there was a freshman. Most of the upperclassmen who lived in Mitchell either lived on the first floor, where every room had its own bathroom, or on one of the upper floors. Unfortunately, I hadn't had a lot to pick from when it was my turn to select a room.

After talking with my neighbors for a few minutes, I met a couple of cute sophomore girls, Sharon and Linda. They knew each other from the previous year and seemed to be pretty close friends. While Sharon was a small girl, barely 5 feet tall, with short, tight reddish curls, freckles, and an omnipresent smile, Linda was a blonde, who, while considerably better looking than Sharon, was somehow unexplainably less attractive than Sharon.

The three of us stayed out in the hall and talked late into the evening, even after everyone else had either gone out or went to bed. When the conversation somehow drifted toward sex, I began to fantasize about sleeping with both of them at the same time. A few minutes later, though, reality set in when Sharon started to yawn.

"Boy, I'm tired, guys," she said as she stretched her arms. "I hope you two don't mind, but I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Not at all," Linda smiled. "In fact, I'm pretty tired myself. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Hey, why don't we have breakfast together? I'll give you a call as soon as I wake up. Oh, and it was really nice meeting you, Jake. It's good to know that we have such friendly neighbors. Now don't be a stranger."

After they went to bed, I sat in the hallway by myself for a few moments, trying to figure out what I did wrong. I then remembered about meeting the guys at the Black Rooster. As I was about to call the elevator, though, I stopped myself and walked back to my room.

"I'd better quit while I'm behind," I thought.

Early the next morning, I walked over to the house just as Sanjay was moving in.

"Hey, Jake!" he shouted from behind his Jeep as soon as he saw me. "Could you give me a hand with my new stereo?"

I walked to the back of his car and shook his hand.

"Jesus Christ, Sanjay!" I shouted when I saw the size of his speakers. "I've never seen speakers this large before. They must be six feet tall!"

"Pretty nice, aren't they? You know, this is the kind of equipment you usually only see in expensive night clubs. My parents gave it to me as a gift for getting good grades. I'll tell you, with this stereo, we're really going to have some kick-ass parties this year."

A little later that afternoon, both George and Gary moved in.

"So how were your summers?" I asked them while they unpacked.

"Not bad," George replied. "Not bad at all. I even got laid a few times. She was a real scag though. Some fat chick I worked with at Cumberland Farms. But hey, pussy is pussy. How about yourself?"

"I actually had a pretty good summer. I got paid really well and I didn't even have to work hard. Best of all, I got to drink just about every day."

"Wow, that seems like the perfect job. Where can I apply?"

As George unpacked his records, I noticed that he didn't bring any Kiss albums.

"What happened, Dee?" I asked. "Where are all your Kiss records?"

"Oh, I didn't bring them," he replied, somewhat perturbed. "Most of the guys in the house, like this asshole over here, don't like Kiss. Although for the life of me, I really can't understand why. Anyway, instead of being ragged and teased on all year like I was last year, I decided to bring just a few cassettes that I made over the summer. I also brought a Walkman. Unfortunately, I guess Kiss is just going to have to be a personal thing for me this year."

"How was your summer, Gary?" I asked.

"Oh, the usual. I worked as a lifeguard on the beach, like I've done the previous few summers. The money is pretty decent, but the best thing about it is all the fucking pussy. This summer especially for some reason. In fact, I was even able to be a little choosier than usual."

The next afternoon, we went down to a nearby park to play softball and have a barbecue.

"Hey, guys," George said to everyone before we started playing, "if any of you want an easy A this semester, there is going to be a history class called 'The Civil War and Reconstruction.' I had the teacher last semester, and believe it or not, she only gives A's. You know, I think it would be really kidz if we all signed up for it together."

After the game, we finished the keg and walked back to the house.

"Gentlemen," Tom said on the way back, "you know, we really should start to talk about our first party. I think that Friday would be a good day. From what I understand, most of the other houses are holding their parties on Saturday, so we won't have much competition."

On the night of the party, we had five kegs of beer as well as two garbage cans of punch. By 11:00 P.M. the entire house and the grounds surrounding it were packed with people. The combination of the loudness of Sanjay's stereo with the number of people dancing in the main room caused the entire house to start shaking.

"You know, I hope the foundations of the house don't collapse," Tom said to me as I poured him a beer in the basement. "That could be bad."

A little later that evening, someone took my place behind the bar and I walked upstairs to the main room. In the front of the room about a half dozen brothers were dancing together. Toward the end of the song, Little Paul started screaming.

"Sanjay! Play 'The Roof is on Fire!' "

"I hear you, Paul," Sanjay replied, more than a little annoyed by Paul's request. "It's coming up in a little while--be patient!"

"No, DJ Sanjay!" Paul screamed back. "We don't want to be patient, we want to hear it now!"

The other brothers then started shouting along with Paul.

"DJ Sanjay! DJ Sanjay! DJ Sanjay!"

After a few minutes of incessant badgering, Sanjay finally relented.

"Okay, you fucking assholes! I'll play the goddamn song! But I'm warning you, this is the last time I'm playing this shit tonight. This is already the third fucking time!"

The song, which I had never heard before that evening, was soon to become a party tradition at the house even though it must have been one of the stupidest songs ever written. For the next fifteen minutes, the entire house seem to echo with people screaming:

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire.
We don't need the water, let the motherfucker burn!
Burn, motherfucker, burn!

A few minutes later, I decided to go to the back room, where those of us who wanted to talk during the parties would sometimes congregate. Often heated political and philosophical debates would break out, and I always found it interesting to listen and even participate. As I walked into the room, Brian was shouting at his best friend, Pete, a guy who had just joined the fraternity.

"I can't believe that you're a conservative Republican!" Brian screamed. "You're nineteen years old, and they're a party of old men. Don't you understand that the Democratic Party is absolutely the best hope of this country; the best hope for our future."

"That's fucking bullshit, Brian!" Pete screamed back. "You don't know what you're talking about. The Democrats fucked this country up for so long. Not even you can look me in the eyes and tell me that things aren't a whole lot better than they were six years ago. And you know, if we could only get rid of that fucking Democratic Congress, everything would be even better!"

"Better? Tell me something, Pete: do you honestly think it's better that we are spending billions upon billions of dollars on defense when we can already destroy the world forty times over?"

"Brian, I have only one thing to say to you: peace through strength."

"Oh, my God! I can't believe you fucking said that! You've got to be out of your fucking mind! Do you really believe that shit?"

"Hey, guys!" Gary interrupted as he walked into the back room. "I can hear you two screaming all the way on the dance floor. Calm the fuck down--you're going to scare someone! I don't even understand why you're arguing in the first place. I mean, there's lots of hot, sticky vagina out there on the dance floor, and you guys are standing in here arguing about politics! What are you thinking?"

"You know what, Brian?" Pete said. "I've got to admit that the man's got a point."

"Well, at least we can agree on something," Brian added before the two of them walked out together.

A few weeks after the party, we held our rush mixer. As I walked into the house that evening, Tom was just coming down the stairs. He was wearing a bright red smoking jacket and drinking beer out of a brandy glass. After greeting me at the door, he started walking around the room to introduce himself. The first person he met was a tall, baby-faced, blond-haired guy who was standing by the entrance of the main room.

"Hi," he said as he offered him his hand, "my name is Tom and I'm the president of this chapter. It's really nice to meet you."

"Nice to fucking meet you, too," the guy replied. "My name is Joseph. You know, this is a really nice fucking house. I'm definitely interested in fucking joining."

"That's too fucking bad," Tom replied with a straight face. "No fucking cursing allowed in this fraternity. So why don't you get the fuck out of this fucking house, right the fuck now!"

Tom then smiled as he quickly apologized.

"I'm just fucking kidding, guy. You're more than fucking welcome here. In fact, why don't you go over there and have yourself another fucking beer. And have yourself a really good, fucking time tonight."

Tom then walked up to me and smiled.

"Jake, what's that kid's problem?"

I just shrugged my shoulders.

Tom then walked over to a heavy-set guy who was standing by himself in the corner of the room. He introduced himself and extended his hand.

"Hi," the guy said as he reached out to shake Tom's hand, "nice to meet you. My name is Gumby."

As soon as Tom heard the word "Gumby," he instinctively retracted his hand, just before Gumby had a chance to shake it, and again walked up to me.

"Jake," he whispered, "what the fuck is going on here? What are all these loonies doing here?"

At the party, in addition to potential pledges, there were also a few potential little sister candidates. As Tom was refilling his brandy glass, his attention suddenly became focused on a large-breasted blonde girl, who was sitting on the couch watching television.

"Would anyone mind if we watched Dynasty?" she asked. "Tonight's episode is really important."

Tom smiled and sat down next to her on the couch.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she smiled back. "My name is Buffy."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Buffy. My name is Mr. French."

Tom quickly stood up, and yet again walked toward me.

"My God, Jake," he whispered, "we really have a motley crew here tonight. At least it can't get any worse."

Moments later, though, another prospective pledge walked into the house. He could not have been more than 5 feet tall and was certainly no heavier than 100 pounds. He had deep acne blemishes all over his face and his hair was so greasy that even though it was blond, it looked light brown. As he walked into the main room, he began looking around, as if he were looking for someone or something.

"Hey," he said to us in a loud, high-pitched voice, "where's all the white women at?"

Moments later, Pete quickly walked into the main room and introduced us to Jason Mason. Jason, who lived on the same floor as Pete the year before, was perhaps the strangest person I had ever met. More hyperactive than any five year old, lewd, crude, and rude, Jason was a living caricature. After five minutes of watching Jason in disbelief, Tom and I smiled at each other.

"Well," he said to me, "one thing is for sure: he certainly doesn't suffer from any false sense of pride."

Later that evening, as I was walking through the hallway, I heard a couple of guys discussing music. Jason, who was standing next to them, looked as if he were eager to participate in the conversation.

"You know, I just bought the new U2 album," one of the guys said to the other. "Have you heard it?"

"Yeah," the other guy replied. "It's not bad at all, but I still don't think it's as good as REM's latest."

"Hey, guys," Jason interrupted, "what do you think about Judas fucking Priest? Man, I'm telling you, they really know how to fucking rock!"

Jason then suddenly started playing air guitar, wildly shaking his head back and forth while he screamed.

"Breaking the law, breaking the law, . . . breaking the laaaaw!"

Tom, who was having a difficult time controlling his laughter, walked up to Jason and put his hand on Jason's shoulder.

"Wooo!," Tom quipped. "Easy there, cowboy! You just might hurt yourself."

The following Sunday evening, we voted on pledge bids.

"I would like to nominate Gumby," Little Paul said when the floor was opened to nominations.

"Wait a minute," Johnny Mass replied. "I don't know about this. You said that his name is Gumby? You know, I think we could be setting a really bad precedence by admitting a cartoon character into the fraternity. Who knows, maybe next Ricochet Rabbit or Quick Draw McGraw will want to join. Listen, I'm certainly not saying that I'm going to vote against the guy if everyone else is for him, I just think it's setting a really bad precedence."

Despite Johnny's honest concerns, Gumby received a bid.

"I would like to fucking nominate Joseph fucking Novak," George said when the floor was opened once again.

"I fucking second the fucking nomination," Johnny added.

"I don't get it," Little Paul said. "What's the joke?"

"You know, Paul," Tom replied, "Joseph is that kid whose every other word is 'fuck,' or some variation of the word. It was actually kind of funny, but I really don't know how long it would be funny."

"Hey," Johnny interjected, "maybe he has one of those cool diseases that make you curse all the time. Regardless, I think he would make a fine addition to the house. Hell, if we're going to give a bid to Gumby, we certainly have to give Joseph a bid."

After agreeing to give Joseph and a few others bids, Tom was ready to close the floor to nominations.

"If there isn't going to be any more bids," he said, "I--"

"Wait a minute," Dennis drunkenly interrupted. "I nominate . . . Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaason!"

"Who?" Tom asked.

"Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaason!"

"Did you say, Jason? Wait just a minute. If you're talking about that little, obnoxious dork that was at the mixer the other night, I'm going to have to put my foot down."

"I agree," George added. "You know, I talked to the kid for a little bit at the mixer. He is completely out of his fucking mind. He's the perfect example of being too kidz for your own good."

"If I could just say something," Pete said. "I don't really know if Dennis was just joking around. But if he was serious, I think we should discuss it seriously. I know Jay really well; he lived next door to us last year. And you're right, Tom, he is an obnoxious, little dork. But underneath all of that is a decent guy who just wants to be liked. You know, I think in the long run he could only benefit from becoming a brother. And I think in the long run we could only benefit from having him as a brother. He'd certainly add to the diversity."

"Hey, I'm all for having diversity," Tom said. "But that doesn't mean that this fraternity has to become another Revenge of the Nerds. In fact, I don't think even those guys would have accepted Jason. I think we should carefully think about this one."

Although we debated about Jason longer than we had debated about anyone else I could remember, and although the number of people who abstained from voting outnumbered the people who actually voted for him, Jason in the end received a bid.

"Now, if we've got all the bids settled," Tom said, "Joey has a proposal for the house. Joey, you have the floor."

"Thank you, Tom. I'll try to make this short. Well, there's a little bar I know down the street from the Rooster that is closing down, and they have a really nice Beermeister that they would like to sell. I asked the owner how much he wanted for it, and he told me that he's looking for around $1,000. Now, I don't know what you guys think, but I think this could be a great investment for us. Think about it, we would always have cold beer whenever we want it. You know, having one of these Beermeisters has always been a dream of mine. I talked to Tom about it and he said that if we increase social dues $5 per month for each brother and pledge, it would be paid for within a year. So what do you guys think?"

"I second the motion," George said. "It'll definitely pay for itself, and we'll never have to deal with those fucking taps anymore."

"I knew I could count on you, Dee," Joey smiled.

The Beermeister was bought the next day, and it was installed a few hours before the pledge ceremony. As we all stood around it in respectful silence, Joey poured the first beer and slowly took a small sip.

"One small sip for myself," he said, "one giant sip for Tau Mu."

Shortly thereafter, the bizarre group of pledges began arriving. When Jason walked into the house, he immediately became the focus of attention, as he was wearing a white polyester suit with a dark purple tie that had a naked woman embroidered on it. After staring at him for a few moments, I turned to Gary and smiled.

"Well," I whispered, "I hope you realize that this is the legacy we will be leaving this fraternity."

"Is it too late to change my vote?" he whispered back.

After the pledge ceremony, to commemorate the new Beermeister, Joey had Jason handcuff Clayton to the drain of the Beermeister.

"Fuck you, Gotti!" Clayton screamed as he yanked helplessly at the handcuff. "I'm really going to get you one day."

Moments later though, he started to calm down.

"At least this year I'm in a good location," he said as he poured himself a beer with his free hand.

As the semester progressed, I found that I was not spending much time at the house, as most of my classes were difficult and the majority of my free time was spent studying. The one exception though was on Monday and Wednesday afternoons, when about a dozen of us would meet at the house prior to our Civil War and Reconstruction class. As the class was made up almost entirely of Tau Mu brothers, even people in the class who were not in the fraternity started calling it "Tau Mu and Reconstruction."

As the class started at 4:10, I would usually get to the house about five or ten minutes before four. Invariably, the entire brotherhood would be gathered around the television set, watching General Hospital in an almost trance-like state. I always thought that it was strange how supposedly macho college guys could get so hooked on a soap opera intended for bored housewives.

"What a bunch of he-men we are," I said one afternoon when I walked into the main room.

"Ssshh," George whispered. "We're finally going to find out who Mr. B is!"

As we were walking to class that day, everyone, especially George, was still talking about the General Hospital episode.

"I just can't believe that you are so hooked on a fucking soap opera, Dee," I said.

"It's not a soap opera, Jake," he indignantly replied. "It's GH, man. There's a big difference. . . . I don't know if I told you this, Jake, but there was this great course about Shakespeare being offered this semester, and I really love Shakespeare. The only problem was that those assholes scheduled it during GH. I can't miss GH twice a week. If you ask me, the school should arrange class schedules so that they don't interfere with GH. In fact, if they had a referendum on it, I bet everyone would vote for it."

14

2006-05-25T18:20:00.000-07:00

14

The Summer of Highs and Lows

TOWARD the end of the spring semester, I began to prepare myself for the likelihood that I would have no choice but to work in my father's shoe store during the summer. Although the pay there would not be great, it would certainly be better than what I made the previous summer. Also, it was getting difficult saying "no" to my father over and over again.

So I was surprised when my father actually found me a great summer job.

"I think I've got some good news for you, kiddo," he said to me over the telephone in early April, during one of our weekly Sunday evening conversations. "There's this guy I know, Tim Phillips, who has been coming into the store now for years. Well, yesterday he was in the store to buy some black loafers, size 10 1/2. Anyway, I just happened to mention to him that you would be looking for a job this summer when you came home, and it turns out that he is a vice-president at a company called Helmsley-Spear. They're a real estate management company and one of the largest properties they manage is the Empire State Building. He said that they employ a lot of people there, especially in the observation tower. However, most of these people it seems take their vacations in the summer, so they need to hire college students as replacements. He told me that, as a favor for all the great service I've given him over the years, he would be pleased to get you a job there this summer if you would like. And that's not even the best part. I almost jumped right out of my shoes when he told me the salary. Ten dollars an hour! Can you believe it? Ten dollars an hour, and you won't even have to break a sweat!"

"That's unbelievable!" I said. "Ten dollars an hour? How can it be for real? There must be some kind of catch."

"No catch at all. He said the reason the hourly rate is so high is because it's a union job, and everybody gets the same rate. It's like I've always told you, son, the unions are one of the things that make this country great."

"That's wonderful, Dad. So when will I start?"

"I don't know exactly, but I guess sometime in mid-May. You need to give them a call when you get home. Not bad, eh? So your old man isn't so bad after all, is he?"

A few weeks after I came home for the summer, I walked into the Empire State Building for my first day of work. Not only did I not know what to expect, I did not even know where to go.

"Excuse me," I said to the guard sitting at the front desk, "I'm suppose to start working here today in the observation tower. Could you tell me where I should go?"

"Sure," he replied. "Downstairs in the dressing room you'll find Peter Gonzales. He's one of the floor managers. His office is in the locker room, right by the entrance. He'll get you directed to the right place. So, what you need to do is follow that escalator over there downstairs, then make two lefts and a right. You can't miss it."

It took me a few minutes to find the dressing room, as I must have taken a wrong turn. As I walked inside, I saw a man sitting in the open office.

"Excuse me, are you Peter Gonzales?" I asked him. "My name is Jake Stein and I'm going to be working in the observation tower."

"Well, I'm not directly responsible for the observation tower," he said to me as he handed me two uniforms. "So, what you need to do after you get dressed is to walk around the corner to the observation tower ticket office. There you'll find one of the observation tower managers. I don't know who is on duty today, but you'll be able to recognize them by their brown jackets. Everyone else wears a blue jacket. He'll tell you where you should be and what you should be doing. Oh, and Jake, those shoes you are wearing won't due--everyone must wear black dress shoes."

After I finished dressing, I walked to the ticket office and found the observation tower manager talking to one of the cashiers.

"Hi," I said to him. "Are you the observation tower manager? I'm suppose to be starting today. My name is Jake Stein."

"Oh, yes, we've been expecting you. Hi, my name is Paul Roberts. It's nice to meet you. Let me show you to your post for the week."

He led me out of the ticket office about twenty-five feet back toward the dressing room and stopped.

"This is going to be your post this week," he said to me, with a tone of voice that suggested that he thought he was doing something important. "As people leave the ticket office, they sometimes get a little confused on where to go. So, if they ask you, you should direct them upstairs and tell them to follow the signs to the set of elevator banks that are used exclusively to take people up to the tower. Also, some people may want to use the bathroom, so you can also direct them there as well. It's just down this corridor on the left. But only if they have a ticket! It's not a public bathroom and we don't want any junkies or other scumbags doing who knows what there."

"Is that all?" I asked.

"What do you mean, is that all? What, this isn't enough for you?"

By Friday morning, I was terribly bored.

"My God," I thought, "how am I going to get through the summer? At least I only have to make it through the summer. I can't imagine how someone could do this full time, regardless of the hourly rate. There simply must be some trick to it."

After lunch that day, a short, overweight janitor in his mid-thirties walked up to me and introduced himself.

"Hi, my name is Joe Gikowski. I'm the shop steward for the union in this building. Are you new here?"

"Yes, I'm a college student working here for the summer. My name is Jake."

"Oh, that's terrific, Jake. Could I see your union card, please?"

"Union card? I don't have a union card. I'm sorry, but no one told me anything about getting a union card. Do you mean that I have to join the union even if I'm just working here over the summer?"

"Look, Jake, it don't matter if you're just working here during the summer; everybody has to be in the union. Why do you think that you're getting paid such a high hourly rate for doing next to nothing? If it wasn't for the union, my friend, you'd be making minimum wage. That's if you had a job at all. Do you think that there's actually a need for you to be standing here? Of course not! So, what you need to do is go to the local Service Employees International Union office. It's over on the corner of Fifth and Thirty-sixth Street. After you pay the dues, they'll set you up with a temporary union card. I'll check back with you in a week, and I'd better see a card on you."

Joe started to walk away, but suddenly stopped and came back to me.

"Oh, one other thing," he said. "We have had some problems in the past with college students not knowing exactly how to behave on the job. So, I want you to pay close attention to the full-timers here. Pay attention to what they do, and what they don't do. And under no circumstances should you ever work harder than they do. When the managers around here see someone working hard, even a student, sometimes it gets into their heads that maybe all of us should be working that hard. As you can understand, Jake, we don't like that. Only do your job, and nothing more. Do we understand each other?"

"I'm not sure. I think I'm a little confused. Does that mean if there--"

"Exactly," he interrupted. "Don't do it."

"But what if--"

"No, don't even think about it."

"Okay," I grinned, "I think I've got it."

"Great," he said as he shook my hand. "I think we're going to get along just fine. Welcome aboard. And if you have any problems, let me know."

The following week, I finally got a chance to work in the observation tower. My job was to direct people in and out of the elevators. While the view from the tower was certainly impressive, after a few days, the thrill began to wear off and I was bored again. At least there were other employees working with me though, so I was able to pass some of the time with conversation. One afternoon, I was talking with Ed O'Brien, a middle-aged guy who was working the elevators with me.

"Hey, Ed, could I ask you something?" I said. "How do you guys get through the day? This job is so fucking boring. How do you do it?"

"Well," Ed matter-of-factly replied, "let me let you in on a little secret, Jake. You see, me and a lot of the other guys here are usually pretty drunk. If not staggering drunk, I would say at least, very well oiled. You'd be surprised just how quickly the day goes by after a few beers."

"I don't understand," I said as for the first time I noticed that Ed had a bright red nose. "Don't the managers mind that you drink on the job?"

"Jake," Ed whispered to me as he put his hand on my shoulder, "the management doesn't mind at all if, during lunch, we go over to Houlihan's and have a beer along with our hamburger. Well, I don't like hamburgers."

I tested Ed's theory at lunch by having a few beers at a local Irish pub called the Blarney Stone. Later the afternoon, after sending a large group of Japanese tourists down in the elevator, I turned to Ed and smiled.

"Man, you were right. This afternoon has just flown by."

While I worked in the observation tower that week, I also met a few other people. This included Dom, a janitor who had been working in the building for more than thirty years.

At least two or three times every hour Dom would put his broom and dust pan down and smoke a cigarette in the corner. One afternoon, a short, middle-aged woman with a stern expression on her face came storming out of the elevator. When she noticed Dom smoking in the corner, she ran up to him.

"Put that cigarette out, now!" she hollered nastily.

"Fuck you!" he nonchalantly replied after taking a particularly long drag of his cigarette. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I'm Leona Helmsley," she said. "And this is my fucking building! You're finished here, buddy!"

"Go fuck yourself, lady!" Dom calmly replied after taking yet another long drag of his cigarette. "You ain't firing nobody."

"We'll see about that!"

A long-time union man with a good record, Dom was probably one of the few people who talked back to Leona Helmsley and actually got away with it.

The following week, I worked the elevator bank on the 80th floor, where tickets were collected for the observation tower. Working alongside me were Al Fernandez and Frank Miller, both of whom were almost permanent fixtures on the 80th floor. Al and Frank, who were both quite open about their homosexuality, had been living together for almost twenty-five years. They even showed me photographs from their wedding ceremony, at which Al was wearing a beautiful, white wedding gown.

"There was a lot of whispering at the ceremony," Frank told me, "regarding whether Al should have been wearing white or not."

The other guys in the building seemed to have a lot of fun talking about Al and Frank. One day, I walked into the dressing room on my lunch break in the middle of a heated debate about them.

"I'm telling you," one guy said, "Al's the pitcher! He's got to be. Look at the way Frank walks all the time, like he's got anal warts or something. It's got to be from taking it up the ass too much."

"You're full of shit," another guy replied. "Everyone knows that Al's the woman. Frank isn't effeminate at all, but Al's a real fag. Besides, who was wearing the dress at their wedding?"

The guys also like teasing Frank. One afternoon, everyone was standing around the time clock a few minutes before 5:00 P.M., waiting to punch out for the day. As Frank wanted to be the first to punch out, he put his card on top of the clock. However, the card kept falling off the clock and onto the floor.

"What's the matter, Frank?" one of the guys asked after Frank's card fell for the third time. "Can't you keep it up? Hey, guys, it looks as though Frank can't keep it up!"

"Why don't you get down on all fours," Frank replied angrily, "and I'll show you how I can fucking keep it up!"

For most of the week that we worked together, Al and I collected tickets while Frank stood down the hall by the elevator bank that led to the first floor. From there, Frank directed the tourists to us so we could collect their tickets, before finally putting them on the elevators to the observation deck on the 86th floor.

While we were working together, Al would often tell me funny stories. One afternoon, while we were waiting for the next elevator-load of tourists to arrive, he turned to me and smiled.

"Hey, Jake," he said, "did you hear about that moron, Pat Chirico? I don't know if you know him, but he's one of the night janitors. Well, a few days ago there was a burglary at Empire State Diamond, and for some reason, the thief must have dropped a bag of diamonds in the staircase. Anyway, Pat found the bag. So what does the idiot do? He turns it in!"

"Did he at least get a reward?" I asked.

"Yeah, he got a reward," Al said as he made a fist with his right hand while quickly sliding his left hand from around his wrist down to his elbow. "No Vaseline!"

Not only did Al have a lot of interesting stories, he also knew a lot of good gay jokes.

"Did you hear the latest one," he said to me one morning while we were walking to our post. "Well, there's these two fags, and one says to the other, 'Hey, let's play hide and seek. If you catch me, I'll give you a blow job.' Well, the other fag replies, 'I don't know; I don't think that I'd be able to find you.' 'Don't worry,' the first fag replies, 'I'll be behind the couch.' Pretty funny, eh?"

By the end of the week, I began to think that Al might have taken a liking toward me. While he was a natural flirt, he seemed to be particularly flirtatious with me, especially when Frank was either on a break or not looking. Early Friday afternoon though, Frank caught him.

"Why are you always flirting with the boy?" Frank whispered angrily after he saw Al touch my arm.

"What do you mean by flirting?" Al innocently replied. "I wasn't flirting with the boy. You know, you've really got to stop with all this nonsense, Frank. Jealousy really doesn't become you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just remember one thing, Al: what's good for the goose, is good for the gander."

Later that day, I felt I had to tell Al that I was not interested in him, especially as he seemed to be "accidentally" touching me an awful lot.

"I'm sorry, Al," I said to him. "While it doesn't bother me that you're gay, I have to tell you, I'm straight."

"I don't care if you're straight," he replied without any embarrassment whatsoever. "The straighter you are, the easier it is to stick in!"

A few weeks later, Frank D'Angelo, the Assistant Director of Security, asked to see me in his office.

"Jake, please take a seat," he said to me as I walked in. "You might not know this, but there are actually two groups of security guards in the building: the Observation Tower group, the group you're in, which has the responsibility for the observation tower; and the Elevator group, which has responsibility for the elevator banks, the freight elevators, and a few other things. Anyway, it looks like we are going to be running a little bit short of people in the Elevator group for the remainder of the summer. So, as we've been very impressed with your work, we were wondering if you would like to transfer into the Elevator group. It's much easier work than in the observation tower, and you will even get paid an extra dollar an hour. Also, there's a lot more opportunity for overtime. I don't know if you know this, but if you work an extra shift or work on a weekend, you get time and a half. And if you work on a holiday, you get double time and a half. There is even a very good chance that you'd be able to work a double shift this July 4th."

"Let me get this straight," I said. "I'd be able to work less and get paid more? What a country! Frank, this is a no-brainer. Of course I would like to be transferred."

As I was leaving his office, I stopped and turned back to him.

"Frank, could you do me a favor though?" I said. "Could you keep it to yourself that you're impressed with my work? I wouldn't want to get into any trouble with the union or with any of the other guys."

"Don't worry, kid," he smiled, "we'll keep this between ourselves."

As dull and boring it was being an observation tower guard, being an elevator guard was far worse. My job was simply to stand by the elevator bank and do absolutely nothing. I got so bored that I even tried to make conversation with some of the tenants while they waited for the elevator.

"This is some building," a guy said to me one morning. "You know, I've been in this building now fourteen years. I own a small import-export company on the 60th floor. The interesting thing is that from one month to the next I have never paid the same rent twice."

"I guess that means it keeps getting lower, eh?" I joked.

I would also often talk to Steve Weiss, a guy who worked the bank of elevators down from me. Steve was probably the closest thing there was to the Clown Prince of the Empire State Building. A middle-aged man of medium height, Steve had such a large stomach that if he had been a woman, most people would have probably suspected that he was pregnant. He was also very hyperactive and would wildly swing his arms whenever he would get excited, especially when he would talk about his supposedly wild sex life.

"Jake, what an incredible evening I had last night," he told me one morning. "Me and Tony took out this chick who works as a receptionist on the 32nd floor. After we got her good and fucked up, we took her back to the building and double-teamed her in one of the freight elevators. Man, let me tell you, they don't make broads like that any more."

What made Steve truly interesting, though, was that he was the only Jewish guy I ever met who was functionally illiterate. In spite of this, Steve was popular in his neighborhood, and lost a city council election by just a few votes.

"You know what really scares me about the future of this country?" a fellow student said to me during lunch one day. "It's that a guy like Steve, who can't even read or write his own fucking name, can come that close to power. Think about it--maybe a Chauncey Gardiner isn't all that outrageous after all."

While I was stationed by the elevator banks, I also often had the responsibility for substituting for Joe Brown during his lunch and other breaks. Joe's job was to drive the small manual elevator that took people from the large observation tower on the 86th floor to the smaller observation tower on the 110th floor. Joe was a special guy and enjoyed an almost legendary status at the Empire State Building. Although he was about 5 feet 10 inches, he could not have weighed much more than 100 pounds. And although he was in his early fifties, he looked at least eighty. This was most likely due to the massive amounts of alcohol he drank during his life. In fact, he spent so much money on alcohol that his son or daughter would come to the building every payday to pick up his check. Alcohol had taken such a toll on Joe's body that we always knew when he was in the bathroom, as he would holler in pain as he urinated.

Every day it was a true joy to watch Joe work, as it would appear as if he were putting on a show for the tourists. He would often sing, dance, and even make jokes as he escorted people in and out of his elevator.

"That guy is incredible," a tourist said to me one afternoon as I gave Joe his break. "They could sell tickets just to watch him do his bit. One thing though, someone should pour a bottle of mouthwash down his throat once in a while. That little elevator of his smells like a fucking brewery."

About a month before the end of summer, I was transferred to the freight elevator area. All freight coming in and out of the building passed through this area, via a group of four manually driven elevators located in the back of the building. On my first day working there, I was introduced to the elevator operators: Herb, Billy, and Carlos. I was then shown how the elevators worked. Each elevator had a switchboard, and when someone called it, a light would flash on the switchboard, notifying us that someone was waiting.

As I was waiting for my first call, Herb, a bulky man in his early thirties, pulled me aside for a little chat.

"I want to explain a few things to you, kid," he said. "First of all: take your time. Just because someone calls the elevator, it don't mean that you need to be in such a hurry to answer. If you are responding to everyone quickly, they're all going to expect the same thing from the rest of us. Secondly, and more importantly, very often there will be people moving in and out of the building. Well, there is an unwritten rule here that everyone knows and follows: whenever there's a move, we have to be tipped at least $20 in advance. Now, some fucking assholes think they can get away without paying nothing. But if they don't pay you, you be certain to give them especially slow service. Because if word gets out that people can get decent service here without paying, we'll all be out of a lot of money. And believe me when I tell you this, Jake: if I catch you not following what I've just told you, I'm going to kick your fucking ass. Is that clear?"

"I'm not sure," I gingerly replied. "Isn't what you're doing, kind of like, you know, extortion?"

"Fuck no!" he angrily replied. "It ain't no fucking extortion! It's just the way business is done around here. Do you have any problems with that?"

"No, I have no problems with it whatsoever."

"Good," he said as he shook my hand, "then we'll get along just fine."

He then paused for a moment, before a smile suddenly came across his face.

"Extortion?" he chuckled. "I guess that's one of them big words they learned you at college, eh? Yeah, you're probably going to be a lawyer or something. Just what this fucking world needs--another Jew lawyer!"

While Herb mostly kept to himself during my few weeks in the freight area, I got to know both Billy and Carlos pretty well.

Billy, who was an enormous black guy, was probably one of the nicest guys I met while working in the building. He was also quite funny. One morning, while I was waiting for a call, Billy walked up to me with a magazine in his hand.

"Hey, Jake," he said, "I hear that you're addicted to crack. Is that true?"

"No," I replied, quite surprised by the question.

"Are you sure that you're not addicted to crack, Jake?"

"Yes, Billy. I'm sure that I'm not addicted to crack!"

"Well, I think that you're addicted to crack."

He then opened the pornographic magazine he was holding to the centerfold and showed me a picture of a woman who must have had the largest vagina I had ever seen.

"So," he said, "you're trying to tell me that you're not addicted to crack? Hell, I'm definitely addicted to crack!"

Although I met a lot of interesting people that summer, the most colorful person I met was probably Carlos, a short, thin Puerto Rican guy who always seemed to have poorly groomed facial hair. While not an attractive man at all, he always claimed to have legions of women and seemed to talk only about sex. While the average person might greet you by saying "Hello" or "How are you doing?," Carlos would just as likely greet you by saying something like, "Man, last night I was tonguing this chick's ass."

As we got to know each other, Carlos for some reason took it upon himself to educate me on sexual techniques.

"Hey, Jake, have you ever eaten pussy before?" he asked me one afternoon as soon as I returned from lunch.

"No," I answered.

"Man, I have so much to teach you," he said as he put his arm around me, "and so little time. You know, Jake, most guys really don't know how to eat pussy correctly, so I want to make sure that you do it right. You see, eating pussy is almost an art form. Unfortunately, most guys don't know how to do it right. They use a simple, up-and-down motion over the clitoris like this. . . . And this is completely wrong! Believe me, if you really want to get a chick going, you need to use a circular motion like this. . . . And be very careful to keep the diameter of your circle to no greater than an inch wide. Now I want you to practice this motion, Jake. After I've finished teaching you, you'll be driving those fucking college chicks crazy when you get back to school."

When the summer finally ended, although I did not do or learn anything useful, I had saved more than four times what I had during the previous summer. The night before I went back to school, my mother looked at me and smiled.

"So, Jacob," she said, "now that you have made all that money, have you given any thought on how you are going to spend it?"

"Well," I answered, "while I'm not exactly sure what I'll spend the money on, you can be certain that whatever it is, it'll be light-brown, cold, and have a very nice head."

13

2006-05-25T18:10:00.000-07:00

13

White Wedding

WHEN I returned to school after another dull spring break spent at home, I was surprised to find Bubba sitting by himself on the couch in the dark, drinking straight from a bottle of Wild Turkey.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I dropped my bag and sat down next to him.

"No," he replied after a brief pause. "I'm definitely not okay, Jake. I'm really fucked."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I knocked Jessie up," he said before taking a large swig of whiskey. "That's what's fucking wrong."

"Jessie is pregnant?"

"Jessie is very pregnant. I just found out last week. I must have knocked her up when I was home last month."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, obviously I don't have many choices. We're going to get married as soon as school finishes in May. And after that, I'm going to have to start working. Fortunately, I have a good lead on a job at the local power plant. Of course, I'll have to quit school, at least full-time. However, once we get settled, I'm definitely going to finish college part-time at night. Without a college degree, life will be just one big fucking dead end."

"I don't know what to say, Bubba."

"There's nothing to say, Jake. It's already settled. I'm sure though that everything will turn out okay in the end. I mean, I really love her. . . . One thing for sure, I want all you guys at my wedding. My best friend, Billy Ray Hackett, has already agreed to be my best man, but I would really love to have the three of you as my ushers. And I also really hope that we can stay in touch."

"Well, I can't speak for George or Gary," I said as I put my hand on his shoulder, "but it would be an honor for me to be an usher at your wedding, and I'm sure they'll feel the same way, too."

A few minutes later, Johnny Mass stopped by to see if George had come back.

"What's the matter, guys?" he asked when he saw the solemn expressions on our faces.

"My girlfriend Jessie is pregnant," Bubba slowly replied. "I'm going to have to get married, and I'm also going to have to drop out of school."

"Oh, that's too bad, Bubba," Johnny said. "That's a real tough break. But hey, when you fuck around, you fuck around."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Bubba angrily replied.

"I'm sorry, Bubba. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure that everything will work out. After all, you're a Tau Mu man now, goddamn it!"

"What a fucking asshole!" Bubba said after Johnny left. "How can he say that kind of shit to me. Good fucking brother he is!"

"Forget it," I said. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. It's just his way."

When Gary and George returned a few hours later, they were both as shocked as I was to hear that Jessie was pregnant.

"I don't understand why you have to drop out of school though," Gary said. "I don't understand why you have to get married, and I don't understand why you even have to have the baby in the first place. Have you thought about having an abortion? I know that it would probably be a tough thing to do, but it seems to me that it would solve all your problems."

"That isn't even an option for us, Gary," Bubba strongly replied. "Both Jessie and I are deeply religious Christians. We both believe that abortion is a sin. No, there is simply nothing more to discuss. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it."

The following Sunday, at the end of the brothers meeting, we all knew what Bubba would talk about when his turn came.

"I'm sure by now all of you know what happened," he began. "My girlfriend Jessie is pregnant. We're going to be married in May--"

Before he could finish, Johnny and Little Paul interrupted him by singing a verse from Billy Idol's "White Wedding."

"You fucking jerks!" Bubba screamed. "That was totally uncalled for!"

"I have to agree," Tom added. "While it was quite funny, it was completely uncalled for. Bubba, I'm sorry. Please continue."

"As I was saying, Jessie and I will be married in May, the weekend after exams. I want you to know that you are all invited. Even Johnny. You probably also know that I will be leaving GW. While it was a very tough decision, quite honestly, I really didn't have much choice. I just want to let you guys know that I'll miss all of you. Even Johnny."

As soon as Bubba finished, Johnny raised his hand and asked Tom if he could have the floor.

"On behalf of Paul and myself," he said, "I would like to apologize for that little outburst. You're right, Bubba, it was completely uncalled for. Also, I have a motion for the floor: I think the house should throw Bubba the greatest fucking bachelor party of all time!"

"That's a great idea," Joey said. "I know one of the best strippers in DC. One thing though, I think this should be a brothers-only event: no pledges, no little sisters, and no guests."

"Well, what do you think about it, Bubba?" Tom asked. "It's really up to you."

"Sure, what the hell? Why not? It sounds like fun, and I certainly could use something to cheer me up."

The following Saturday night, we held the bachelor party. As I walked into the house, I saw a bunch of guys sitting in front of the TV watching a pornographic video. I looked around for Bubba, but as there was so much cigar smoke in the room, I had a difficult time finding him. When I finally found him at the bar a few minutes later, he was surrounded by four or five other guys, and they were plying him with a variety of shots.

"Hey, how are you doing?" I asked him as I shook his hand.

"I'm doing great, Jake. I've only been here half an hour, and I'm already fucked out of my mind."

A few moments later, Clayton walked up to Bubba and put his left hand on Bubba's shoulder.

"Congratulations, big guy," Clayton smiled as he shook Bubba's hand. "I bet you're really excited. And I'm not talking about the wedding--I'm talking about the fucking stripper who's waiting for you in the back room. I was just back there talking to her for a few minutes. Boy, let me tell you, she is really fucking hot."

Clayton then inched a little closer to Bubba.

"By the way," he whispered, "during our little chat back there, she strongly indicated to me that if I paid her a certain amount of money, she'd be willing to give you a blow job that you'd remember for the rest of your life. So what do you say? You could consider it an early wedding present from me."

"Thanks, but I think I'm going to pass. Sex is what got me into this mess in the first place."

"I understand," Clayton said as he gently rubbed his chin. "Hmm, would you mind, Bubba, if I got the blow job myself? You know, my balls are really aching. I need to drop a load, real bad."

"Be my guest, Clay. In fact, why don't you give her one from me."

"You better believe I will, buddy. Again, congratulations and best of luck."

Just before the stripper came out, Tom walked to the center of the room and asked Joey to turn the video off.

"Everybody, can I please have your attention," he began. "Bubba, could you please come up here for a moment?"

Bubba soon stumbled his way toward Tom.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that we are really going to miss you," Tom continued as he put his arm around Bubba. "All of us wish you only the very best. And even though living in West Virginia might seem like living on another planet, we all hope that you will visit us often. Remember, you'll always be welcome here. Now, for the real reason that we're here tonight. The stripper!"

A beautiful blonde in her mid-twenties then strutted out into the main room, blasting dance music from a large portable stereo that she was carrying. She walked up to Bubba and grabbed his arm, before dragging him backward.

"I'm going to need a chair, fellows," she said from the front of the room.

George quickly handed her his chair and she sat Bubba down in it, before tying his arms behind the back of the chair with handcuffs. A few moments later, she began a slow strip that must have taken her at least a few songs to complete. Once she was fully naked, she did a few more sexy dances, before straddling Bubba's lap. After wiggling in his lap for a few moments, she started frantically dry humping him. The excitement, combined with all the alcohol he had drunk, proved to be too much for Bubba, and as soon as she got off him, he leaned forward in his chair and started vomiting all over himself.

As soon as she untied him, a couple of guys cleaned him up a little and helped him into one of the upstairs bedrooms.

"Oh, man," George sighed. "She was hardly on at all. Fucking Bubba!"

"Hey, guys," the stripper smiled, "it's up to you of course, but I'm not in any real hurry to leave. In fact, I know a really neat trick that I'm sure you guys will love. However, I'll need the help of you big, strong studs."

"What do we have to do?" George screamed.

"Form a line and I'll show you."

Within a few seconds, everyone had fallen into an orderly line behind her. As I looked down the line, I saw a look of glowing anticipation in the faces of the guys, probably not unlike the look we all must have had as we waited to enter the circus for the first time as children.

Joey made certain that he was first in line and she told him to sit in the chair and place a dollar bill over his nose lengthwise. She then climbed onto his thighs and turned her back to him.

"Now, as I lower myself onto your face," she said, "I want you to put your hands under my thighs."

She then lowered herself onto Joey's face, grabbing the dollar bill with only her vagina, before slowly rising back up and jumping onto the floor.

"So who's next?" she grinned as Joey stood up.

The room was dead silent for a few seconds as we stared at her in amazement. Finally, George, who was next in line, sat down in the chair.

After completing my turn, I went to the bar to get another drink and I happened to run into George. He had a big smile on his face.

"Jake, isn't the female body just amazing?" he said. "The only problem is that it never lasts, not even for a chick like that. In the end, they all become old and shriveled. And then what use are they?"

A few weeks later, I had to decide where to live the following year.

"Gary and I are going to get a room together at the house," George told me when the subject came up.

"I thought you said that you would never live at the house, Dee."

"I know I said that, but I think it'll be a great experience living there. And when I need to study, I'll just go to the library. It's only a few blocks away. I just need to have some self-control, that's all. And what about yourself? Why don't you come live at the house, too? You know, you could probably get Danny's old room. Who knows, maybe there are still a few of those great porno mags lying around."

"No, I don't think so. Don't get me wrong, I like the house and all, but I don't know if I'm ready to live there. Besides, I think my classes are going to be really difficult next semester, so I really need a quiet place to study, and I don't think that the library is the place. Right now, I'm just thinking about getting a single at Mitchell."

Days later, after the school held its annual dorm room selection, a couple of pretty JAPs stopped by our room.

"Excuse me," one of them said to us, "my name is Jennifer and this is Julie. We are going to be living in this room next year. If you don't mind, we were wondering if we could take a look around."

"Sure, come on in," George replied.

They spent the next few minutes walking around our room, deciding where they were going to place their beds and what furniture they would need.

"Thanks a lot," Jennifer smiled as they left.

"Wow," George said to me, "that Jennifer is unbelievably gorgeous! You know what I'm going to do, Jake? Before we leave for the summer, I'm going to fucking come on each and every mattress, just with the remote hope that maybe, just maybe, one of my sperm will survive and float up into Jennifer's vagina next semester and impregnate her. Just think about it--I'd be able to say that I was the father of her baby."

On the final day of classes, we held our last fraternity party of the semester. Even though it was the first time in anyone's recollection that we had purchased more than one keg for a party, we still ran out of beer before midnight, and the house was still packed even after all the beer was gone.

"Man," Tom said to me toward the end of the party, as we stood together on the house steps, "I can't believe how many people were here. You don't realize how amazing this is, Jake. Just a few years ago people were seriously worried that the chapter was going to die out, and now we are really happening."

The day after the party, we held Pledge Weekend. It was held then so that the pledges would still have enough time to study for final exams afterward. That afternoon, a few hours before the Weekend officially began, I walked into the house bathroom to find Joey intensely scrubbing a black dildo, the same dildo that I had to carry during Pledge Weekend.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

"That fucking Clayton!" he angrily replied. "We finally got the dildo back from him today, and it was all covered in some kind of greasy sex cream. And the shit ain't coming off! No matter how hard I scrub, it just won't come off. I'll tell you, I'm going to kill that fucking bastard next time I see him. God only knows what he was doing with it."

During Pledge Weekend, I was surprised to discover that it was actually better being a pledge than a brother. Everything considered, the pledges were definitely having more fun than we were, and I felt more than just a little envious of them.

After exams, most of us spent the following week living in the house, as it did not make sense to go home for one week just to come back the following weekend for Bubba's wedding. Since we had nothing really better to do, every day we bought a keg of beer, played a little softball, and had a barbecue.

"Man," George said one evening as we were finishing yet another keg, "this is what life is all about. Good beer, good food, and good friends. But especially, good beer."

As George, Gary, and I were going to be ushers at Bubba's wedding, we had to be at the wedding rehearsal the day before the wedding. Bubba reserved us a room at the same hotel where the reception was taking place, in a town a few miles away from Morgantown. He told us to meet him in the hotel lobby at around 5:00 P.M.

Early Friday afternoon, we rented a car and drove down to West Virginia. When we were only a few miles from the hotel, we passed an old abandoned washing machine lying next to the road. The machine seemed to be riddled with shotgun holes.

"Jesus Christ, guys," George said. "Did you see that? Shit, are we still in America?"

At around four, we checked into the hotel, and an hour later we began making our way downstairs. When we stepped off the elevator into the lobby, we saw that the entire wedding party was waiting for us.

"My God," George whispered as we slowly walked toward them, "I didn't know the Beverly Hillbillies were having a reunion in this hotel."

"Dee, you better be careful what you say," Gary whispered back. "They might have guns."

Bubba greeted us and introduced us to Jessie, a cute little girl with red hair and a face seemingly covered with freckles. While she might have indeed been sixteen years old, she could have easily passed for fourteen or even thirteen.

Although Bubba had spent a lot of weekends over the past two years at home to visit Jessie, we had never met her before. Due to the objections of her parents, she never visited the school.

"Howdy," she said as she shook each of our hands. "It sure is a pleasure to finally meet y'all. I've heard a lot about each and every one of ya. I'm certain that we're going to be real good friends."

A tall, heavy-set man with a thick accent then reached his hand out toward us.

"Hello," he said, "I'm Jessie's dad, Mike Jones. And this here is my wife, Charlotte. And these three beautiful young ladies are my other daughters: Betty, Debbie, and Mary. They're going to be bridesmaids tomorrow. But don't you fellows get any wrong ideas, now. They ain't old enough for you yet. Not even by West Virginian standards."

Bubba then introduced us to his parents, Jack and Ellen; the matron of honor, Jessie's friend Bonnie; and finally the best man, Billy Ray.

After the introductions, we walked to the church for the wedding rehearsal. Once inside, we were told that we would have to wait a few minutes as the minister was running a little late.

George, Gary, and I walked to the back of the church, and we were talking among ourselves when Mrs. Jones, a rather large woman who was sitting in the last pew immediately in front of us, turned back to us and smiled.

"Excuse me for interrupting," she said to George, "but Bubba told me that you and Gary are both Catholic. Is that right?"

"Yes, m'am," George softly replied.

"Well, I guess that's okay," she whispered to herself.

She then started staring at me.

"Jake, you're Jewish!" she finally said, pointing her index finger at me.

"Yes, I am," I replied as I instinctively covered my crotch with my hands. "Does it show?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I've never seen a Jew before."

After the rehearsal, we went to a nearby restaurant for dinner. Almost immediately after we finished, the women excused themselves and left the restaurant.

"Now that all the womenfolk are gone," Mr. Jones said, "we fellows can get down to some serious drinking and bullshitting."

Mr. Jones, who had been drinking heavily throughout dinner, was very drunk. Still, he ordered a round of whiskey shots and beer for everyone.

"So tell me," he continued, "have you guys heard some of the latest West Virginian jokes? I'll bet you'll get a real laugh out of these, boys. For instance, what's a virgin in West Virginia? . . . A girl who can run faster than her father and brothers, he, he, he. Here's an even better one for you: how does a mother in West Virginia know when her daughter is having a period? . . . When she tastes the blood on her son's dick! Get it? Blood on her son's dick!"

He started wildly slapping his hand on the table as he burst into laughter.

"Now, there was a real knee-slapper!"

As he continued telling his jokes, I looked over at the expression of pure disgust on the face of Bubba's father and wondered what was more upsetting to him: the tasteless jokes or the knowledge that within twenty-four hours Mr. Jones would become a relative.

"Mr. Jones likes to tell these really bad West Virginian jokes," Bubba finally interrupted. "It's all because he's not originally from West Virginia. He's from Tennessee, and for that reason, he thinks that he's better than us. Like Tennessee is somehow the center of Western civilization."

"Let me tell you something, Bubba," Mr. Jones replied, "maybe Tennessee is not the very center of Western civilization, but it's sure a far cry from here, that's for sure. And please, son, stop calling me 'Mr. Jones.' Call me Mike. After all, starting tomorrow, we're all going to be one big happy family. Ain't that right, Jack?"

After ordering another round of whiskey shots, Mr. Jones put his arm around Bubba.

"You know, I would like to tell everybody here how proud I am of Bubba. In this day and age young people have seemed to forgotten how to live up to their responsibilities. Not Bubba though--he's doing the right thing, I tell you. Hell, I didn't even have to come up to that school of yours with a shotgun, he, he, he. You know, Bubba, I'm going to be real proud to have you as a son-in-law."

By the end of the evening, Mr. Jones was so drunk that Bubba's father had to drive him home. After they left, the rest of us decided to go back to the hotel and have a nightcap in the bar.

"Man, Bubba," George said after taking a sip of beer, "your father-in-law is sure colorful."

"That's for sure," Bubba replied. "I'm just thankful he didn't start in with all his nigger jokes. That would have been real embarrassing."

After we ordered another round of drinks, I looked over at Billy Ray, who had been quiet virtually the entire evening, and smiled politely at him. He was kind of a strange-looking guy, looking almost like one of the characters from Deliverance. He was also dressed quite interestingly, as he was wearing a white, 100 percent polyester shirt with a solid brown clip-on tie, and a pair of Hush Puppies.

"So, what do you do, Billy?" I finally asked. "That is, if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, I don't mind at all," he quietly replied. "I'm a humble servant of our Lord, Jesus Christ."

"Billy Ray works for an evangelist," Bubba added. "The Reverend Jim Bakker. I don't know if you guys know him, but he's pretty popular, at least in these parts. Hell, he even has his own television show. They even show it in DC sometimes. It used to be on channel 20, right around one in the morning. You guys probably didn't know it, but sometimes, when I had trouble sleeping, I would watch him. His sermons are really fascinating. Billy Ray actually knows him personally. Tell me, Billy Ray, what's he really like?"

"Oh, he's a wonderful person, and a great family man, too. It's been truly a great and special honor to work for someone like that. You know, if you would like, Bubba, I could probably get you some tickets to the show."

"Really? I just may take you up on that, Billy Ray. You know, I think Jessie and I are going to need all the spiritual support we can get, especially in the upcoming months."

The next morning, the three of us woke up early and drove to Jessie's parent's house to have breakfast with the family and pick up our tuxedos. When we got to the church about an hour before the wedding, we started looking for Bubba.

"Excuse me," George said to the minister, "have you seen Bubba?"

"Why, yes. He and Billy Ray are sitting in my office. It's right over there in the corner."

After knocking on the door, we walked into the office and found Bubba and Billy Ray sitting by the minister's desk.

"So how are you feeling, Bubba?" George asked. "Are you nervous?"

"Are you kidding, man? Nervous is not the word for it. I'm fucking scared. In fact, right now I'm more scared than a hound dog shitting a peach pit!"

"That scared, huh?" Gary quipped.

"You'll be okay, Bubba," Billy Ray said. "Just remember, as long as you and Jessie commit your hearts and souls to Jesus, you'll be able to get through anything."

About half an hour later, the guests started to arrive. This included our fraternity brothers, most of whom--as expected--were already drunk.

"Guys, please don't embarrass us," George said to Tom as he and Johnny Mass stumbled into the church. "Bubba told me that Mrs. Jones is really worried that the entire wedding might degenerate into some kind of fraternity party."

"Well," Tom replied, "you can tell Mrs. Jones not to worry, Dee. This wedding will absolutely degenerate into a fraternity party. That I can promise you."

When the ceremony began, Jessie walked down the aisle wearing a beautiful white wedding gown.

"Hey, Jake," George whispered to me, "why does the bride smile when she walks down the aisle?"

"Why?" I whispered back.

"Because she knows that she'll never have to give another blow job."

During the ceremony, Bubba, while obviously nervous, somehow managed to say his vows without a problem. After the ceremony, the minister gave a short sermon on how Bubba and Jessie needed to love one other and how they needed to realize just how much God loved them both.

"Yes," he said, turning toward the congregation, "let us not forget that God loves all of us, regardless of our religious beliefs. He loves Protestants and Catholics absolutely equally."

He then briefly glanced at me before he continued.

"Yes, he even loves the Jews."

"Well," I thought, "at least we have that going for us."

While most of us had a lot to drink at the reception, we all somehow managed to behave ourselves within reason. Bubba however, toward the end of the reception, seemed to be getting a little out of control. After the last song was played, he staggered up to me and George and put his arms around us. Not only was his tie off, but his shirt was completely out of his pants.

"Hey, guys," he said, "I just asked the DJ to play 'White Wedding' as the last song. Can you fucking believe it, the asshole didn't even have it! Good fucking DJ he is!"

As a few of us were leaving the reception, Mrs. Jones, who was pretty drunk herself, stopped us.

"You know, I heard you guys were really wild," she said. "But you know what, I think y'all are just a bunch of fucking pussies. Why don't we see what you're really made of."

She then led us to the bar and ordered shots of Jack Daniel's for everyone.

"I'm sorry, ma'm," the bartender said, "but the reception is over. I can't serve you anymore."

"That's bullshit!" she screamed. "Me and my husband paid a shit load of money for this fucking reception, and you're going to fucking serve me!"

The bartender called the manager over and they quietly talked among themselves for a few minutes before the bartender returned.

"Okay, m'am," he said. "I can serve you."

"You better fucking believe you're going to serve me. Now, set us up with those shots of JD. And leave the fucking bottle!"

The next morning, the three of us had breakfast with Bubba and Jessie in the hotel restaurant.

"I just want to tell you guys," Bubba said as we were finishing breakfast, "yesterday was the best day of my whole life, and I couldn't have possibly imagined celebrating it without you. I'm really going to miss you."

As we said our final good-byes in the hotel parking lot, we each hugged Bubba and wished him the best. Although we promised to keep in touch and visit, unfortunately it turned out to be the last time that I ever saw or heard from him.

12

2006-05-24T19:02:00.000-07:00

12

Brother's Keeper

THE day after our initiation into the fraternity, I woke up well after noon. When I finally felt strong enough to slither out of my closet, I saw that everyone was watching television. All three of them looked barely alive.

"You guys look as bad as I feel," I said as I sat down on the couch.

"Don't worry," Gary replied, "you look even worse."

A few moments later, George loudly farted.

"Oh, my God!" he shouted as he waved his hand from his groin to his face. "What crawled up my ass last night? Hey, guys, take a whiff."

He then began furiously waving both his hands toward us.

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," I said.

"Dee," Bubba cried, "that's really disgusting. My God, are you sure that you were raised by humans?"

George just smiled, as he put on a sweat shirt, a pair of jeans, and a baseball cap.

"Come on, guys, let's go," he said as he walked toward the door. "Get dressed."

"Get dressed for what?" Gary asked.

"You heard what Tom said last night. All of us have to be at the house by two, so we can redo the basement floor."

"Well, I think I speak for the three of us, Dee, when I say that there is no way we're going to work on that fucking house today. We did enough work at the house the past weekend. So with all due respect, please go fuck yourself."

"Okay, fine. I'll go by myself. Fine fucking brothers you guys are going to be."

That evening, we went to our first brothers meeting.

"Let's get things under way," Tom said as he struck the gavel. "First of all, I would like to welcome all the new brothers, even though most of them did not show up this afternoon to help re-floor the basement. While we'll excuse you guys this time, in the future, be aware that house duties are mandatory for all brothers, without exception. As you can see, this house isn't in the greatest shape to begin with, so we need everyone to pitch in."

A little later in the meeting, we made plans for the upcoming rush party.

"Well, I've talked to Dennis, our new rush chairman," Tom said, "and we agreed to hold the rush party a week from next Tuesday. Dennis has also made a list of responsibilities for the party, so before you leave tonight, check the list to see what you're scheduled to do. That's in addition, of course, to making all potential pledges feel at home. Also, I would like to see everyone here as early as possible on Tuesday night."

At the end of the meeting, Tom struck the gavel again.

"For all the new brothers," he said, "we close every meeting by allowing each brother a chance to say whatever is on his mind."

"Like Tom said," George began when it was his turn to speak, "I would like to congratulate and welcome all the new brothers. I'm sorry that I was such a dick over the weekend. Well, actually, not really. Oh, one other thing. I would just like to say how psyched I am that the Patriots will be playing in the Super Bowl next weekend. It's an absolute dream come true for me."

"What happened to the Redskins?" Gary asked. "I thought you were a Redskins fan."

"I do like the Redskins, but the Patriots are the Patriots."

A few hours before the rush party started, I went to the house and walked downstairs to the basement to help set up the bar. Gary, Tom, Johnny Mass, and Little Paul were already there making the punch.

"You know, I've always wondered how the punch was made," I said as I watched them pour various bottles of liquor, grain alcohol, drink mix, and chopped fruit into a large garbage can.

"It's almost ready, guys," Tom said after they finished pouring everything in. "It just needs the secret ingredient."

"Secret ingredient?" I said. "What's the secret ingredient?"

"Well, Jake, it's so secret, we don't even let pledges know it. But now that you are a brother, we can let you in on the secret ingredient of our famous Black Night, Black Death Punch. Shall we, gentlemen?"

Without any further instruction, Tom, Johnny, and Paul pulled down their zippers and began pissing into the punch.

"That's disgusting!" Gary screamed. "What if someone gets sick?"

"Don't worry," Tom replied, "there's enough alcohol in the punch to kill any living organism. Besides, we're not going to drink it."

A few minutes later, when the keg of beer was delivered, Gary and I went upstairs and carried it down to the basement.

"Hey, where the hell is Danny?" Tom asked as we put the keg behind the bar. "I know he was on the list to help us."

"Well, actually," Johnny said, "just before I came down here, I went by his room to get him. However, it sounded like he was whacking his meat pretty hard, so I didn't want to disturb him. Especially as he seemed so close to blasting off."

"Whacking his meat, huh? Now there's something unusual for Danny."

In the few weeks since we became brothers, I had not seen much of Danny. Supposedly, he spent most of his time in his room with his computer and a reportedly enormous collection of pornographic magazines. One afternoon, early in the semester, I was sitting in the main room watching television with a few other guys when a shy-looking girl nervously walked into the house and asked for Danny.

"I borrowed some of his notes for our English Literature class," she whispered, "and I would like to return them. Do you know where I could find him?"

"Well," Joey replied, "you have two possibilities. Either A: he's upstairs in his room working on his computer. Or B: he's upstairs in his room jacking off. Take your pick."

"Oh, I see," she said as she slowly and clumsily began walking backward toward the door. "Perhaps I should come back later."

After we finished setting up for the party, Gary and I went to the Rathskeller for dinner. When we returned to the house about an hour later, the party had just begun. As we walked inside, we saw Dennis coming down the stairs carrying a long tube with a large funnel attached to it.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"It's a beer bong," he replied. "You put the end of the tube into your mouth while someone pours beer into the funnel. The beer then smoothly flows down your throat without you even having to swallow. It's really cool, especially when you do it inverted."

"Inverted?"

"Yeah, inverted. One guy holds your legs while another guy holds your shoulders, so that you're completely perpendicular to the ground. It's really wild."

"That sounds great. Can I try?"

"Sure, Jake. Hey, guys, we have our first victim! I mean, volunteer."

After we walked into the main room, Gary grabbed my shoulders and Little Paul grabbed my legs; and after I put the tube in my mouth, Dennis poured a cup of beer down the funnel.

"Wow," I said after they let me down. "You were right. That was incredible. It just went straight down. Could we do it again?"

Over the course of the next hour, I did four more inverted beer bongs. By the time I did the last one however, I was staggering drunk, and most of the beer somehow shot back through my nose. After they let me down, I ran over to the garbage can and threw up.

"That was fucking incredible how you shot that beer through your nose!" Dennis said to me as he patted my back while I threw up. "Can you do that again?"

"Maybe a little later."

After I finished, I went to the back room to lay on the couch. I woke up about an hour later when I heard George speaking to a prospective pledge.

"You know, I'm really excited about the Redskins next year," he said. "Sure, they didn't make the playoffs this year, but I think they're going to be tough to beat next year. Especially with Jay Schroeder coming into his own."

"Hey, Dee," I interrupted, "I thought you were a Patriots fan. What happened?"

"What happened? 56 to 10 to the fucking Bears, that's what happened. Go 'Skins!"

When the party started to wind down, I saw George and Joey getting ready to walk out the back door.

"Hey, where you guys going?" I asked.

"We're going to Little Tavern," George replied. "Do you want to come with us?"

"That's not such a bad idea. You know, a little food is just what I need."

Still not feeling completely well, I lay in the back seat of Joey's Mustang as we left. On the way to Little Tavern, a famous greasy dive in Georgetown that served tiny hamburgers and cheeseburgers, the two of them talked about the party.

"So how did we do tonight?" Joey asked George.

"It's always hard to tell, you know. I checked the sign-up list, and there were the usual Babe Ruths, Mickey Mouses, and Washington Irvings. But I think we also have some good potential candidates as well. In fact, Brian invited a lot of his friends from the crew team. I talked with a couple of them, and they seemed like pretty good guys. They also seemed very interested in joining."

George then turned back and looked at me.

"So how are you doing back there, Jake?" he asked. "You're really fucked up."

"I'm fine," I said.

"Let me just warn you, Jake," Joey said. "If you throw up in my car, they'll have an easier time finding Jimmy Hoffa's body than yours."

"Don't worry, guys. I'm fine. I just need some chow."

While the two of them went into the restaurant to pickup the food, I waited in the car. After they returned, we began eating; and on the way back to the house, George and I each ate six cheeseburgers. But that paled in comparison to Joey's six cheeseburgers, six hamburgers, and six large fries.

"So I guess you're a little hungry, eh?" George asked as Joey stuffed two hamburgers into his mouth at once.

"Not really," Joey replied after he finished swallowing. "Why do you ask?"

When we walked back into the house, we saw that a few people were still partying. They were finishing off the last of the beer by doing keg hits, a game in which the objective was to drink beer for as long as possible while the tap was set to allow a free flow of beer.

"Dennis! Dennis! Dennis!" everyone screamed as Dennis did an unprecedented twenty-second hit. As soon as he finished, his face became very pale.

"I think I have to throw up now," he said as he calmly walked to the bathroom.

When he returned a few minutes later, he had a big smile on his face.

"Give me another one," he said, before doing another ten-second hit.

As I was no longer in the mood for beer, I went downstairs to see if there was any punch left.

"You're not really going to drink that shit, are you?" Gary asked me when I came upstairs with a cup of punch. "After what we saw them do to it, you're still going to drink it? You're fucked!"

"Why?" I replied after taking a small sip. "Like Tom said, the alcohol kills all the germs. Besides, it taste pretty good. It is rather acidy though."

A few hours after I went to sleep that evening, I woke up with a stomachache. I took some antacid, but it did not seem to help, so I decided to take a short walk around the hallway. As I was walking by the elevator, the urge to vomit suddenly overcame me, and I ran into the staircase. From the top of the staircase, I violently vomited all the Little Tavern cheeseburgers I had eaten. When I heard the vomit hit the ground floor, nine stories below, I was somewhat surprised.

"Wow," I whispered. "It made it all the way down without stopping. Boy, that's pretty impressive."

The following Sunday evening, we voted on bids for new pledges.

"The system works like this," Tom told the new brothers, "a potential pledge must first be nominated, and then his nomination must be seconded. Then, we will all vote on whether to give that person a bid to join. You can either vote in favor of or against the nomination. You can also abstain if you want to, but if even one brother votes against the nomination, the person in question will not receive a bid."

"I would like to nominate John Ryan," Brian said when the floor was opened for nominations. "He's on my crew team, and he's a really good guy."

"Oh, good God!" Joey cried. "Not another Mick. Isn't Dennis enough?"

After the nomination was seconded, we voted on whether to give John a bid. Joey, who abstained from the vote, was the only person not to vote in favor of him.

"Okay, guys," Joey relented after the vote, "but we better stock up on alcohol this semester."

Next, Brian nominated Dave Berger.

"Goodnight, nurse!" Joey screamed. "Another Heb? Hey, why don't we just merge with ZBT right now and get it over with."

In spite of Joey's objections, Dave and the other ten people who were nominated received bids. Surprisingly, all ten accepted. Within one year, the size of the house would more than double.

About a month later, as I was lying on my bed trying to read Kant's Critique of Pure Reason for one of my philosophy classes, George suddenly started blasting one of his Kiss records.

"Is this bothering you, Jake?" he asked when he saw the expression of contempt on my face.

Moments later, Daina burst through the door screaming.

"My God! How many times do I have to tell you guys about the volume? You're both getting written up. Again. And this will be your fourth time, Jake. That means that you'll have to see the Resident Director."

"Listen, Daina," I pleaded, "I was just lying here on my bed studying. I wasn't playing the stereo. In fact, I've been an innocent bystander each time you've written us up. It's not my fault that the people around me are being loud. Am I my brother's keeper?"

"I don't care what your excuse is. You can discuss it with the Resident Director."

As soon as she left, George slammed the door.

"What a cunt!" he screamed. "Why is she such a fucking cunt? And what kind of name is Daina anyway? Were her parents dyslexic? Or did they just simply not know how to spell Diana?"

"Fuck you, George!" I shouted. "I'm really pissed. You know, you're not the one who has to go see the fucking Resident Director. I really can't believe that I'm getting in trouble for sitting in a room."

The following morning, the Resident Director called me and I met her in her office late that afternoon.

"Hi," I said as I walked into her open office. "I'm Jake Stein. Are you the Resident Director?"

"Yes," the young woman replied. "Please, come in and have a seat, Jake. I've been expecting you."

"I just want to say one thing in my defense," I said as soon as I sat down. "I think that this whole thing is rather Kafkaesque, if you ask me. All I was doing was sitting in the room. I wasn't making any noise whatsoever. You know, I'm a pretty quiet guy, and I don't think I should be held responsible for my roommates."

"Jake, this is the fourth time you've been written up for making noise. How come none of your other roommates have been written up that many times?"

"I don't know. I guess I spend more time in the room than they do, so I always get caught with whomever happens to be playing the stereo loud at the time. Regardless, I think this is ridiculous. Even if I were the person playing the stereo loud, is it such a crime to play the stereo a little loud? This is a college dormitory after all, and no one other than Daina has ever complained to us about the volume of the stereo."

"Well, I certainly must admit that Daina seems to have it in for you guys. But from what she has told me, I can't say that I blame her. She told me that you guys said some pretty nasty things to her at the beginning of the year. She was really upset about it."

"If you are referring to what I think you are referring to, I just want to say that the person who said all those things to her doesn't even live in this dormitory. And besides, she was nasty to us even before that, almost from the first moment we met."

"I'll tell you what, Jake. Let's make a little compromise. I'm going to forget all about this, but I want you to make sure that the stereo doesn't get played so loudly. Maybe you're not the person playing it loudly, but you certainly can be the person who turns it down. And I understand what you are saying about Daina. Personally, just between you and me, I think she's kind of a prude. But I really don't want to hear about this shit again, and I don't want to see you in my office again. Is that clear?"

As soon as I returned to the room, my roommates started laughing.

"So, Jake," Gary said, "are they throwing you out of the dorm?"

"Very funny, assholes. Let me just say, from now on, while I'm in this room, this stereo is not going to be played loudly."

"Well, I guess that means that you won't be spending a lot of time here then."

We were still arguing about the stereo five minutes later when the phone rang.

"Hey, Tom, what's up?" George said when he picked up the phone. "What's wrong? . . . Okay, okay. We'll be right over."

"What was that all about?" Gary asked.

"That was Tom. There's some kind of an emergency meeting at the house, and he said that everyone has to come to the house as soon as possible."

"Fuck that shit!" Bubba shouted. "Me and Gary have a major mid-term in a couple of days. We have to study."

"Listen, Bubba, I think this is serious. Tom specifically said that everyone has to come; all the brothers. He seemed really upset."

Bubba and Gary finally relented, and the four of us walked to the house together.

"This is bullshit," Bubba said along the way. "There better be a damn good excuse for this meeting. You know, my parents are still kind of pissed off at me that I joined the fraternity, and if it starts having an adverse effect on my grades, they're really going to be mad. Hell, I'm going to be mad. There might even come a point where I start wondering whether it's worth it or not."

"Why don't you just fucking relax, Bubba," George said. "Why don't you at least wait until we know what's going on. I'm telling you, Tom was really upset. Whatever it is, it must be something important."

As we walked into the house, a tall man in a dark blue suit greeted us in the hallway.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he politely said as he pulled out a badge from his jacket pocket. "My name is Agent Randolph. I'm with the FBI. Could you please tell me your names?"

As we gave him our names, he checked them off from a list.

"Thank you very much," he continued. "Please step into that room over there with your friends and take a seat. Everything will be explained to you shortly."

We walked into the main room and sat down on the couch next to Tom.

"What's going on?" George whispered to Tom.

"All I know is that it has something to do with Danny. I think they want to arrest him or something. I really don't know any more than that."

Two men then walked down the stairs, each carrying a large stack of magazines.

"Wow, it must be serious," Johnny Mass whispered to us. "They're taking Danny's porno collection away. And what a great collection it is. Once I even saw Joey blush at one of those magazines."

Moments later, another man came down the stairs, and he approached Agent Randolph in the hallway.

"Frank, is everyone here?" he asked.

"Everyone is accounted for but Mr. Silvers and a . . . Joseph Gotti."

"Gotti? You don't think he's related to . . ."

Agent Randolph just shrugged his shoulders.

The other man then walked into the main room.

"Good evening," he said to us. "My name is Agent Johnson. You're probably wondering right now why we're here. Well, we are looking for Daniel Silvers. He is wanted in a case relating to electronic fraud. We understand that he and the rest of you belong to the same fraternity."

"Excuse me," Tom interrupted, "but what exactly did Danny do?"

"Well, we suspect that Mr. Silvers has been using other people's credit card numbers to access certain computer services."

"Computer services?"

"That's correct," he replied as he looked down at his notepad and began reading. "Fudge Packing Mamas, Those Big Black Studs, and . . . Little Boys with Big Mouths."

"It sounds like Danny is a very confused young man," Johnny quipped.

The entire room erupted into laughter.

"Yeah," I added, "I'm sure glad you guys didn't give him the dildo during Pledge Weekend. He might have actually used it."

"Hey!" Agent Johnson yelled. "This is not a joking matter. Your friend is in serious trouble."

"I'm sorry," Johnny apologized, "but I for one was not making a joke. It was purely an observation. I'm a Psychology major--I know about these things."

The room again erupted into laughter.

"I'm serious, guys!" Johnny pleaded.

"Are you completely finished?" Agent Johnson angrily asked Johnny.

"Yes, Officer, I'm finished. It is 'Officer,' isn't it? Or did you say, 'Agent'?"

Agent Johnson contemptuously stared at Johnny for a few moments before continuing.

"As I was saying, we are looking for Mr. Silvers. Do any of you happen to know his whereabouts at this moment? Or have any of you seen him recently?"

He waited a few moments for a reply before he continued.

"I would like to inform all of you that if any of you are knowingly harboring Mr. Silvers, or if any of you are withholding evidence, it is a criminal offense prosecutable by law. . . . Okay, guys. I'm going to leave my card here. Please contact me if you have any information that could be useful. Also, if you hear from your friend, please try to convince him to give himself up on his own. He'll be immeasurably better off."

After the four FBI agents finally left the house, the room was completely silent.

"Wow, I can't believe Danny is a fugitive from justice," Little Paul said, finally breaking the silence. "You know, I always thought that he was a little weird, but I never thought he would do something like this."

"Guys," Tom said, "I want to make something clear to all of you. What just happened here today cannot go past these walls at all. I don't even want the pledges to hear about it, let alone the little sisters. This is really serious. It could have a lot of ramifications on the house. That Agent Johnson is probably going to notify President Elliot, and you know how that fucking asshole is just looking for reasons to close the fraternities on campus. I want to keep this as quiet as possible."

A few minutes later, Joey ran into the house from the back door.

"Are they gone?" he screamed. "Are they fucking gone?"

"If you mean the FBI agents," Tom replied, "they just left. What's going on? Have you seen Danny?"

"Yeah, I've fucking seen Danny. Christ, this has to be one of the craziest days of my life. I think it even beats the time I stole a police car as a kid."

"What happened?"

"Well, I was in the Black Rooster this afternoon having a couple of beers when Danny rushes in like a fucking madman. He's all upset and shit and has this box of computer diskettes with him. He tells me that the FBI is after him and that he has to go into hiding. So, he gives me the diskettes, tells me to destroy them, and runs out. Of course, I thought he was just bullshitting. So anyway, I'm sitting at the bar drinking my beer with the box of diskettes lying next to me, when a few minutes later, a bunch of FBI guys storm in. As soon as I saw them, I tossed the box of diskettes into one of the garbage cans behind the bar. I'm damn lucky they didn't see me do it. Well, after the FBI guys finally left, me and Mike the bartender went into the alley behind the Rooster and smashed each and every diskette individually, and then threw the remains into the dumpster. I then immediately came here. And what did I see? The same fucking FBI guys standing on the house steps. I've been circling the block ever since. What a day! I'll tell you, it's been like something out of the fucking Falcon and the Snowman."

After everything settled down, the four of us walked back to the dorm.

"I apologize, Dee," Bubba chuckled. "I think that meeting can be considered justified. It was sure a hell of a lot more interesting than doing differential equations."

A few days later, Danny turned himself in. He pleaded guilty to a reduced four-year sentence at his trial and didn't even have to serve a full year in prison. Although he was expelled from the university of course, he did visit the house a few years later.

"I just want to say how sorry I am for everything that happened," he said during his visit, at the end of the brothers meeting. "I really had a problem. I was so addicted to those computer services that I simply could not help myself. I just had to find a way to pay for them without my parents finding out. I really can't tell you how sorry I am that I got you guys involved in the all the shit that happened. And I would especially like to apologize to Joey. You know, I was really glad that you guys let me come and visit this weekend. You were the first people in my entire life who treated me like a normal person, and I will never forget you."

In the end, everything worked out well for Danny. He eventually started one of the pioneering Internet companies, and is now so rich that he can afford all those great computer services on his very own account.

11

2006-05-24T18:49:00.000-07:00

11

The Best of All Possible Weekends

ALTHOUGH I brought my pledge manual home for the holidays, I looked at it for only a few hours the one day I had absolutely nothing better to do, and I studied it just long enough to memorize the Greek alphabet and the major creeds of the fraternity.

"What is that you're reciting?" my mother asked me when she heard me practicing the alphabet aloud.

"It's the Greek alphabet. I have to know it by heart for Pledge Weekend."

"The Greek alphabet? You know, I really wish that you had put as much effort into learning Hebrew. Your father and I spent a lot of money to send you to Hebrew school."

"Well, I certainly never asked you to send me there."

"That's not the point, Jacob!"

"Well then, what is the point?"

"The point is that a good Jewish boy should be able to speak Hebrew."

As Pledge Weekend began the Thursday prior to spring registration, I returned to the dorm on Wednesday evening. I was hoping that at least one of the guys would be back, in order to have one final night of fun before what I fully expected to be a weekend of hell. Unfortunately, neither Bubba nor Gary arrived until early the following morning.

After they unpacked their bags that morning, we went to a nearby liquor store to buy beer, as at our last pledge class Joey told us that we would each have to bring a case of our favorite beer and a bag of our favorite snacks to Pledge Weekend.

"Of course," Gary said to us as we were deciding what to buy, "they're just going to drink it themselves, so we might as well buy something really shitty, like Wiedermann."

"I don't know," Bubba said. "If they were going to drink it, why wouldn't they just ask us to bring their favorite beer?"

"Don't be so fucking naive, Bubba! They're just playing with our heads."

"Hey, I'm sorry. You know, it really doesn't matter to me. As it just so happens, Wiedermann is my favorite beer."

As we came back to the room, George was just returning. When he saw the cases of beer in our hand, a big smile came across his face.

"So, I see you boys are all prepared for this evening," he said. "I just can't fucking wait!"

"George," Bubba said, "I guess it would not do us any good if we were to ask you not to be the biggest fucking dick in the world this weekend?"

"Fuck you, pledge!"

The three of us arrived at the house at about six that evening, each carrying a bag of clothes in addition to the beer and snacks. Joey told us to drop our things off and wait for the rest of the pledges to arrive. As we walked into the main room, I noticed that all the windows were covered with black paper so that we would not be able to see outside. After the last pledge finally arrived, Joey took us to a bar for happy hour and bought each of us a beer.

"Enjoy it, guys," he said, "because this is going to be a dry weekend for all of you. Oh, by the way, they've got some tacos over there in the corner. I would suggest that you each have a few. You're not exactly going to be eating regularly this weekend."

When we returned to the house about an hour later, the brothers were standing in the main room joking around with each other. As soon as they saw us walk in, though, the room erupted.

"Pledges!" they all screamed.

As someone started playing a tape of "Reveille," Joey led us to the center of the room. Looking around, I noticed a large banner draped over the entrance, on which was written "Death Before Dishonor."

After the song ended, Joey turned off the stereo and walked back toward us.

"Whenever you guys hear this song this weekend," he said, "you'll have to immediately stop whatever you're doing, run over here as fast as you possibly can, and line up in the center of the room. And once the song ends, you are to drop to your knees and do ten pushups. Is that clear to everyone?"

"Yes," we replied in unison.

"Oh, and one more thing," he added, "for the remainder of this weekend, you will address all brothers as 'sir.' Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" we shouted back.

"I can't fucking hear you!"

"Yes, sir!" we repeated as loudly as we could.

"Good then, drop down and give me ten. Now!"

"Boy, this is going to be a long weekend," I thought as I struggled to complete my pushups.

While almost everyone seemed to be having a tough time doing their pushups, mine were particularly bad.

"Jake, man," Joey smiled, "those have to be the ugliest fucking pushups I have ever seen. So, you know what? Why don't you give me an extra ten."

After we finished, we got back into line and Tom took center stage.

"Gentlemen," he began, "as the president of the George Washington chapter of Tau Mu, I would like to welcome all of you to Pledge Weekend. I don't know if you noticed, but we call it 'Pledge Weekend,' not 'Hell Weekend.' While this weekend will certainly not be easy for any of you, we think that you will have a lot of fun here as well. But, of course, not nearly as much fun as we'll have."

George then walked up to Tom and handed him a set of necklaces made from thin rope. Attached to each necklace was a large rectangular piece of plain brown cardboard and a magic marker.

"For this weekend," Tom continued, "you will each have a pledge name, which we voted on at our last brothers meeting."

He then read the pledge names off each necklace before placing the necklace around the corresponding pledge's neck.

"Danny is pledge Richey Rich; Brian is pledge Ann's Bitch; Jake is pledge Vomiting Jew; Gary is pledge Donna Doesn't Wanna; Al is pledge Just Big Fucking Roxal; and last but not least, Bubba is--"

Tom broke out into laughter as he tried to read the name on the necklace. After a few moments though, he finally regained his composure and continued.

"And Bubba is, pledge Statutory Rape."

The room erupted into laughter as Tom placed the necklace around Bubba's neck. Bubba, who was standing next to me in line, did not look very happy about his pledge name.

"During the course of the weekend," Tom continued, "if any brother feels that you have done something wrong or something inappropriate, he will take your magic marker and write a line on your necklace. Any pledge who receives 10 marks on his necklace during the course of the weekend will have to leave the house immediately and will not be admitted to the fraternity."

Tom then directed Joey to check our bags for contraband. "Contraband" was a very loosely defined term that weekend. While it included wallets and watches, it also included any excess or inappropriate pieces of clothing, at least clothing Joey thought was inappropriate.

"You don't need more than one pair of underwear, pledge," he said as he put the rest of Brian's underwear in a large black garbage bag.

While checking each of us, Joey also passed out the beer and snacks we brought.

"I fucking knew it," I heard Gary whisper.

When Joey came to me, he put his hand deep into my bag and began to smile.

"Oh, my God!" he screamed. "What do we have here?"

He then pulled a large black dildo from out of my bag. It must have been more than a foot long and at least an inch thick. After showing the brothers the dildo, he waved it in my face.

"Pledge Vomiting Jew, can you explain to the brothers and your fellow pledges why you would bring such a device along with you this weekend?"

"I don't know, sir," I said as I bit down on my tongue so as not to smile.

"Well, let me tell you, if I were one of you guys this weekend," he said to the other pledges, "I wouldn't be sleeping so easy this weekend knowing Jake was nearby."

He then handed me the dildo.

"Here, pledge Vomiting Jew. For the entire weekend, whenever you are called into line, you must bring this dildo with you. And make sure that you hold it at its base. Is that perfectly clear?"

After Joey finished checking our bags, Tom took over again.

"Guys," he said, "I would like to say a little something to you now about hazing. And what I'm about to say is as much for the benefit of the brothers as it is for you. As you already know, Tau Mu is now a strictly non-hazing fraternity. So I have written a list, based upon the happenings of the last few Pledge Weekends, of behavior that we will now consider hazing, and as such, will be expressly forbidden this weekend:

Excessive whipping or chaining;
Branding with an iron larger than an inch in diameter;
Pushups over human and/or animal feces;
The enforced consumption of any beverage which contains more than 10 percent rubbing alcohol or urine;
And last but not least: genital mutilation of all varieties.

"Does anyone have anything to add?"

"Tom," Johnny Mass said as he raised his hand, "what about sheep?"

"Thank you very much, Johnny. Yes, no sheep whatsoever will be allowed in the house during the course of this weekend, regardless of their intended purpose. In fact, why don't we just expand the ban to include all livestock, shall we?"

After the laughter died down a little, a solemn expression came across Tom's face.

"Seriously though for a moment; we really mean it when we say that hazing isn't allowed. We actually define hazing as being forced or coerced to do something that a brother would not do himself. So, if at any time during the course of the weekend you feel that a brother is hazing you, please feel free to talk privately with either me or Joey. I promise you, that kind of behavior will not be tolerated under any circumstances. So, I will now turn the floor back over to Joey."

"Thank you, Tom. Okay, pledges. I want you to get your things together and follow me upstairs to the attic. That's where you'll be sleeping this weekend."

When we got to the attic, I think that we were all surprised by how cold it was.

"It's fucking freezing up here, Joey," Gary complained as we put our bags down.

"Don't worry, guys," he replied, "there's plenty of blankets. Just think of it like camping."

"That's just wonderful."

"Hey, you fucking assholes should have joined last semester. It was nice and warm up here last May. So, why don't you guys get settled here a little. However, I'll expect to see all of you downstairs in five minutes to clean the entire first floor, including the bathroom."

After Joey walked downstairs, I looked around the attic and saw five very unhappy young men.

"Man, this weekend is going to suck," Al whined.

"Don't fucking complain, pledge Just Big Fucking Roxal!" Bubba shouted. "At least you're not pledge Statutory Rape. I can't believe that they fucking named me that. You know it had to be Dee's idea. Jesus Christ, she's sixteen years old--it's not statutory rape anymore. Besides, if there ever was such a law in West Virginia, I can't believe that it was ever applied."

A few minutes later, as we were getting ready to walk downstairs, we suddenly heard "Reveille" being played again.

"Damn!" Gary said as we started running down the stairs, "they must have speakers wired throughout the whole fucking house!"

When we were about halfway down the staircase, I had to suddenly stop and turn around.

"Shit!" I screamed. "I forgot my dildo!"

By the time I was finally downstairs, everyone was already in line doing their pushups.

"You're late, pledge Vomiting Jew!" George screamed.

Before I even had a chance to start my pushups, George took my marker and put a strike on my necklace.

"One down, and nine to go. Now do your fucking pushups, pledge!"

After we returned in line, Little Paul slowly walked up to us.

"Hey, guys," he said, "do any of you know what time it is? Oh, that's right. None of you have watches, do you? Well, it must be 2:00 A.M. already."

After we cleaned the entire first floor, we walked back upstairs. However, no more than a minute later, the music began playing again.

"You know, I'm really starting to hate that song," I said as we ran back downstairs.

After we did our pushups, George put on a white glove and started checking for dirt around the main room.

"This is really horrible, guys," he said as he showed us the small amount of dirt that was on his glove. "You guys are going to have to do a lot better than this if you want to become brothers."

We then cleaned the main room again, before going back upstairs to study our pledge manuals. About an hour later, Gary turned to me and smiled.

"You know, it sounds pretty quiet down there," he said. "Why don't we go downstairs and see if anyone is around. Maybe there is still some beer left."

Gary and I quietly walked downstairs and saw that everyone was gone. We also saw two and a half cases of beer lying on the floor.

"Sweet!" Gary loudly whispered.

After we picked up the beer, we quickly began walking back upstairs.

"Wait a minute, Gary," I said as I softly placed the case of beer on the stairs. "Maybe that fucking tape is still in the stereo."

I ran over to the stereo and pulled the tape out of the cassette deck.

"Success!" Gary screamed when we returned to the attic. "We got some beer. Unfortunately, they're all warm. So why don't we put them on the roof and drink them out there."

While we were on the roof, I took the tape and hid it in the garbage that was stacked in the old chimney, which probably had not been used in twenty-five years.

"Now, this is more like it," Gary said as he quickly downed his first beer and started on another.

A few moments later though, Joey and George climbed onto the roof.

"You fucking assholes!" Joey screamed. "You stole our beer!"

While Joey picked up the remaining beer and began walking downstairs, George walked up to each of us and made strikes on our necklaces.

"You guys are going to regret this," Joey said as he left.

"So which one of you scumbags stole the tape?" George asked.

He waited a few seconds for a reply, but no one answered.

"You guys really think that you're fucking smart, don't you?" he continued. "In reality though, you're nothing but stupid, worthless pledges."

He then pulled a tape out of his jacket and smiled.

"What, you thought that tape was the only copy we had, eh? Well, you thought wrong. We have copies of this tape all over the place, and there is no way you're going to get to all of them."

Shortly after George left, the song started playing again, and we all rushed back downstairs.

"Well," I said, "taking the tape was a good idea, in theory."

Hours later, after we were all asleep, the song started playing yet again.

"I don't know about you guys," Gary said as he awoke, "but I'm cold and tired. I'm not running down those fucking stairs again tonight."

Moments later, Joey ran up into the attic. He was fuming mad.

"Pledges!" he screamed. "What, are you all fucking deaf? Get your asses downstairs! Right now!"

For at least an hour, Joey had us stand in line, reciting the Greek alphabet in the dark. First, each of us had to recite the entire alphabet three times by ourselves before the match he lit went out. Then, he had us recite the alphabet as a group, with each of us saying a letter in turn. When someone made a mistake, the person to the right got a strike on his necklace.

"What you guys have to understand is," he said after a few of us made a lot of mistakes, "it doesn't matter how well you know your shit, if the guy next to you doesn't. You'll either fail or succeed as a group, so you better make sure that you're all prepared. In a couple of days, you'll be having your final exams, and I promise you, if you don't all pass together, you will all fail together."

By the time he finished drilling us, it must have been at least 4:00 A.M. Before he sent us back upstairs, though, he had us clean the main room one more time.

"You guys are really going to need to get some sleep tonight," he chuckled as we walked upstairs. "Tomorrow is going to be a very long day."

After we returned to the attic, we looked at each other's necklaces.

"It looks like you're winning, Jake," Bubba said to me, noticing that I already had eight strikes on my necklace.

"Well, I wouldn't be in such bad shape if it wasn't for the fact that I was standing next to fucking Roxal downstairs. Al, man, you better start memorizing that alphabet."

"Oh, I think it's more than just that," Bubba said. "I think they're picking on you more than the rest of us because they know that you're the biggest wise-ass among us. That's probably why you got stuck with the dildo, too."

"Fuck you, asshole!" I screamed. "Why are you in such a bad fucking mood? Is it because they banned sheep this weekend, you dumb, fucking hillbilly?"

"I don't need sheep, Jake. I've got a girlfriend, which is something you certainly can't say."

"Well, if I went scoping out the junior highs like you, I'd probably be able to scrape up something, too."

"For your information, Jessie is a sophomore in high school. And if you ask me, I don't think you could scrape up something even if you went scoping out the grammar schools."

"Hey, guys," Gary interrupted, "can you continue this, perhaps tomorrow? I'd like to get at least an hour of sleep tonight."

The next morning, after they fed us a breakfast of dry corn flakes and wheat germ, Joey brought a few cans of white paint into the main room.

"Today and tomorrow, guys," he said, "we're going to paint as much of the interior of the house as possible. We'll start in the main room and then do the entire staircase."

We spent the next three or four hours painting the house. I was surprised that some of the brothers were actually helping us. Joey in particular was working harder than any of us.

Early in the afternoon, after a lunch of alfalfa sprouts and cottage cheese, we were immediately called into line again.

"Oh, man," Gary said to me as we ran into the main room, "I wouldn't have eaten so many of those sprouts if I knew we were going to be doing pushups so soon afterward."

"It's time now for some fun," Joey said after we finished our pushups. "You guys are going on a scavenger hunt. I've got here a list of twenty items that you will need to find. You'll have three hours to collect everything."

He then read the list, which included such diverse items as a cover from a Sears-Roebuck catalog, a twenty-piece bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, seven unshucked oysters, a matchbox from some gay bar, and a couple of pornographic magazines from a store on Fourteenth Street.

"In regards to the porn," he emphasized, "let me make something perfectly clear to all of you: the magazines must show full penetration, and under no circumstances do I want to see any fucking hermaphrodites. I hate hermaphrodites! And for those of you who are not exactly clear what a hermaphrodite is, basically, it's a chick with a dick."

He then took thirty dollars out of his wallet and gave it to Gary.

"This is all the money you can use. If you run out, you'll have to improvise. Oh, one other thing. During the entire scavenger hunt, you must never split up. There will be brothers watching you along the entire route, and if we discover that you have split up, there will be hell to pay. Is that understood? Good then, leave your necklaces here, and I'll see you in exactly three hours."

By the time we collected the first few items on the list, it was clear to us that we had no chance of getting the remaining items if we remained a group.

"Let's just split up," Gary said outside the Sears in Georgetown. "Joey was just bullshitting us. No one is going to be fucking watching us. Everyone, just take three items and some money, and we'll meet in exactly two hours by the Foggy Bottom Metro station."

Two hours later, when I got to the station with my three items, everyone was there but Al. When Al finally showed up fifteen minutes later, we only had a few minutes to get back to the house.

"So what took you so long?" Gary asked. "We're almost out of time."

"Well, some of the shit was really hard to get," he replied.

He then handed Gary the items he got, including the two pornographic magazines. Gary looked over the magazines for a few seconds before he started to scream.

"Roxal, you're a fucking idiot! You're just stupidly stupid!"

"What?" Al cried. "What's wrong?"

Gary walked up to Al and put one of the magazines right in front of his face.

"Didn't you hear what Joey said--no chicks with dicks! So tell me, what do you think is sticking out of her fucking pussy, you moron?"

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't have enough time to look at it carefully. I just picked up the first two magazines I saw."

Before Gary could reply, Bubba grabbed the magazine out of his hand and started looking through it.

"Jesus H. Christ," he said. "I cannot believe this shit. Is this stuff for real? I thought Joey was just kidding."

"If you think that's wild," Danny said as he leaned over Bubba's shoulder, "you'll have to see some of the magazines I've got. They would make this one look like Playboy."

We ran all the way back to the house, and somehow made it on time.

After we got in line, Joey and a few other started sifting through the items we collected. Luckily, they did not look carefully at the magazines.

"Wow," Joey said, "I must say that I'm really impressed with you guys. You got most of the things on the list. You guys didn't split up now, did you?"

As they started eating the chicken and the other food we got, Joey told us to go upstairs and start studying. When we were about half-way up the stairs, we suddenly heard Joey scream.

"Fucking hermaphrodites!"

Seconds later, we began running as fast as we could.

"You guys better run!"

Early that evening, we were called downstairs. As we got into line, we saw that the brothers were drinking from a keg of beer located next to the bar.

"Too bad this is a dry weekend for you," George teased, waiving his beer under our noses. "I don't think that I've ever had such cold beer."

During the next hour, they questioned us as we stood in line. Fortunately for me and for the few others who were also close to having the maximum number of strikes, wrong answers were by then punishable only by half-strikes. Still, I had nine full strikes when I was asked to recite one of the creeds. Although I knew this particular creed fairly well, for some reason I got stuck in the middle of reciting it. Gary though stepped forward and raised his hand.

"What is it, pledge Donna Doesn't Wanna?" Tom asked.

"Excuse me, sir, but I would like to help my pledge brother."

"Please, go ahead."

Gary started to continue where I left off, but after a few words, he got stuck as well. Hearing those few words though, I was able to remember the rest.

"Excuse me, sir," I said after stepping forward and raising my hand, "can I help my pledge brother?"

"Yes you may," Tom said.

After I finished the creed, Tom smiled at us.

"Guys, that was very nice. I really liked that. I think you're finally starting to understand what this whole thing is about."

A few minutes later, Clayton came in and almost immediately walked toward us. He began reviewing us as if we were soldiers, and he, our commanding officer. As he looked at us, he had a very serious expression on his face. That is, until he passed by Bubba and saw Bubba's pledge name. He could not help but crack a smile as he put his hand on Bubba's shoulder.

"Boy," he whispered to Bubba, "I'm sure glad that no one thought of that name when I was a pledge. Believe me, I'm sure that I was a lot worse than you."

When he finally came to me, he took the dildo from my hand.

"Pledge Vomiting Jew," he said, "you don't need to carry this anymore."

He then turned to the brothers, holding the dildo high in the air.

"Guys, how many times have I told you that this kind of shit is un--"

He paused briefly in mid-sentence, seemingly taken by both the size and the width of the dildo.

"Hmm," he finally said. "You guys wouldn't mind if I borrowed this thing for a little while, would you?"

Clayton then gave us a short speech on the meaning of honor and brotherhood, before Tom again walked to the center of the room.

"As you know," he said to us, "we told you that this would be a dry weekend. But for tonight only, we are going to allow you to drink, if you want to. During the course of the evening, if any of you would like a beer, simply raise your hand, and a brother will bring you one. Let me make it perfectly clear though, if you don't want to drink, you don't have to."

Without any hesitation whatsoever, six hands went into the air.

During the rest of the evening we played drinking games, and the brothers even taught us a few fraternity songs.

"I guess you're probably pretty curious about our secret handshake," Dennis said when it was his turn to teach us a song. "Well, here's a song that describes it in vivid detail."

To the melody of "My Darling Clementine," Dennis began singing:

When you take her to the corner and the lights are turned down low,
Put your left hand on her bosom and your right hand down below.
When she starts to shake and quiver and she begs you for a screw,
Tell her that's the secret handshake from the men of Tau Mu.

By the end of the evening, we were all drunk, including Al and Danny, neither of whom I had ever seen drunk before. In addition to all the beer we drank, the lack of food and sleep over the previous few days had taken its toll on us. So, I was happy when Joey told us to clean the room and immediately go to bed.

"You know, guys," I said before we fell asleep, "ever since we pledged, they've been talking about how this is an honor fraternity. Well, I just thought it was some kind of bullshit, but now I think I really understand what Tau Mu honor is all about."

"Yeah," Bubba slurred, "they have a whole fucking keg of it downstairs."

No more than an hour later, we were woken up by George, as he noisily stumbled into the attic.

"Pledge Just Big Fucking Roxal!" he shouted. "You have to come downstairs!"

"Why, George?" Al asked.

"Don't ask me any questions, you fucking pledge! Just get your fucking ass downstairs right now! Move it!"

"I wonder what's going on?" I asked Gary.

"Oh, just some more bullshit," he replied. "You know, I'm really starting to get sick of this."

About ten minutes later, Al returned and told Brian to go downstairs.

"So, what's going on?" I asked Al.

"It's an exam. And I fucked up. So, I guess I'm finished. You know what though, I really don't fucking care anymore. I just want it to end. Man, this is almost as bad as the Sandanistas."

When Brian returned, he had a big smile on his face.

"It's your turn, Jake," he said.

"So, what's it like?" I asked.

"Well, I really don't think it's serious. But then again, I'm pretty drunk. I mean, they asked me some stupid question about Stonewall Jackson's childhood."

When I walked downstairs, I saw Joey waiting for me at the top of the basement staircase. He put a blindfold over my eyes and then slowly led me down to the basement. When he finally removed the blindfold, I was standing in front of the table in the meeting room. On the table lay a candle and a large gavel. Tom, who was sitting behind the table wearing his Death robe, picked up the gavel and tapped it on the table.

"Pledge Vomiting Jew," he began, "the following exam is an important part of your initiation into the brotherhood, so I want you to think carefully before answering the following questions. I will be asking you ten questions during this exam and if you answer even one question incorrectly, you will have failed the exam and you will not be allowed to take it over again. Do you understand? . . . Question 1: what was the Savannah Convention, and what is its significance to Tau Mu?"

I thought about it for a few seconds, but I could not remember ever hearing or reading about any Savannah Convention.

"I'm sorry, sir," I finally said, "I don't know."

"Wrong answer!" Tom hollered as he slammed the gavel onto the table. "Joey, take this pledge away!"

Joey then put the blindfold over my eyes again and led me back upstairs. Once upstairs, he removed the blindfold and told me to send down Danny.

"It was all fucking bullshit," I said when I returned. "At least I'm pretty sure it was bullshit. I think that they're just trying to scare us a little."

"Well, it's probably working," Gary said. "I think Roxal over there is going to cry any minute."

"Fuck you, Gary!" Al screamed. "I'm not about to fucking cry. Why don't you just shut the fuck up! You've been a fucking asshole to me all weekend."

"Why don't we all just calm down," Bubba said. "We're all going to make it. Jumping down each other's throat isn't going to accomplish anything."

The next morning, we woke up with tremendous hangovers to a breakfast of Vienna sausages, salt-free borsht, and diet chocolate fudge soda. We were then told to finish painting the house.

"Man, this really fucking sucks," Brian said to me while we were painting the same corner of the hallway. "This whole deal sucks. Just think about it. After all this shit, we still have to pay the $150 initiation fee. Just fabulous--$150 to buy ten friends."

After we finished painting, we played the brothers in the traditional brother-pledge football match in a field a few blocks from the house.

"Let me inform you guys of one thing," Joey said, minutes before the game. "I have really bad knees. I guess it must be from all the times I've been on my knees eating pussy, he-he-he. So, if any of you guys hit me in the knees, I'm going to kill you."

From the moment we gingerly huddled together before the first play from scrimmage, we looked defeated.

"I don't know about you guys," Gary said, "but I'm not going anywhere near Joey. I don't care how badly we lose."

The rest of us did not seem to care how badly we played either, as we lost 56 to 7.

An hour before our final exams were to start, Joey told us to take our things, including what had been confiscated as contraband, and go home so that we could shower and change into a jacket and tie. As there was not much time for the three of us to shower, Gary, Bubba, and I ran back to the dorm.

"Finally, we're going to get to shower," Gary said as he rushed into the bathroom. "I can't believe we reek so badly after only a few days."

"Just be quick in there, Gary," Bubba said. "No masturbating!"

The three of us made it back to the house with only a few minutes to spare. Once the brothers were ready, we went downstairs individually to take the exam. Unlike the night before, the lights were on in the meeting room downstairs and Tom was not wearing his Death robe. The questions this time were legitimate, and I answered them without a problem.

After all of us had taken the exam, Joey walked upstairs. He did not look happy.

"You guys all did well on your exams. All of you except Brian, that is. He just doesn't know his shit. Like I told you guys before, either all of you make it, or all of you don't. Brian is going to get another exam in half an hour, and he better pass. So, if I were you guys, I would be prepping him as much as possible until then."

For the next twenty minutes, Bubba and I sat with Brian and drilled him.

"Listen, guys," he finally said, "I really appreciate what you're doing to help me, but at this point, either I know it or I don't. I just hope that if I don't, I won't be fucking you guys up."

When Brian came back upstairs after his second exam, he was excited.

"I did it, guys!" he screamed. "I passed! What a relief. You know, I don't think I would've made it without your help."

A few moments later, we went downstairs together as a group for the brother initiation ceremony. It was a lot more relaxed than the pledge initiation ceremony--they didn't even once mention the Confederacy or Robert E. Lee. When it was over, they gave each of us a fraternity pin and demonstrated the secret handshake. The handshake was nothing like what Dennis had described the night before. It was just a simple handshake with a slight stress placed on the pinkie.

After the ceremony, everyone went upstairs and the brothers toasted us with champagne.

"I would like to say a few words," Joey said. "I just want to say that I think all of you guys were fantastic this weekend, and I'm really proud to call each and everyone of you my brother."

After the toast, everyone went to the Black Rooster. Once there, we, the former pledges, were each given a beer; and then we were each serenaded, beginning with Gary, with the following song:

Here's to brother Gary, brother Gary, brother Gary.
Here's to brother Gary, who's with us tonight.
He's happy, he's jolly, he's horny, by golly.
Here's to brother Gary, who's with us tonight.
So, drink, motherfucker! Drink, motherfucker! Drink, motherfucker! Drink!
Here's to brother Gary, who's with us tonight.

The house bought drinks the entire evening, and after a few rounds of beer, all the animosity and discontent that had been building among us during the course of the weekend suddenly disappeared. I don't believe it was just the alcohol. There was a real feeling of brotherhood.

As I stumbled home that night, I started reflecting on the weekend. I had been largely deprived of food and sleep; I had been abused, ridiculed, and even demeaned. My arms still intermittently shook from all the pushups I had done, and I had paint on my hands that I didn't think would ever come off. For some reason, though, I could not help but think, not unlike the German philosopher Leibniz, who concluded that we live in the best of all possible worlds, that this was truly the best of all possible weekends.

10

2006-05-24T18:40:00.000-07:00

10

When a Frat Is Not a Frat

AN hour before the pledge initiation ceremony, the four of us were in our room getting dressed.

"So, Dee," Gary said as he put on his tie, "tell us, what is this ceremony going to be like? Are they going to spank us with paddles, or some shit like that?"

"Of course not," George replied. "We are a non-hazing fraternity. In fact, the fraternity on a national level got into a lot of trouble because of hazing a few years ago. I think that someone might have even died. So now they're really strict about it. So, guys, if during the course of pledging, someone hazes you, let Tom or me know about it. It's no joke."

"But what if you're the guy who's doing the hazing?" Gary asked.

"Well, of course that's a totally different story, pledge!"

"So, then, what's the ceremony going to be like?" Bubba asked.

"It's a secret, so I really can't go into any details. All I can say is that nothing really bad is going to happen. In fact, the very worse thing I would say about the ceremony is that it is perhaps a little bit strange."

By the time we arrived at the house, the brothers and the other pledges were already there. In addition to the three of us and Al, there were two other pledges: Danny Silvers and Brian Richards.

Brian was a freshman who lived on our floor, but I did not know him very well. Danny, whom I knew from freshman year, was a slender, geeky-looking guy who used to live with Johnny Mass. As far as I knew, he had no friends, and even though he was Jewish and probably richer than Ronny, not even the JAPs seemed to like him. For some reason though, he lived in the house as a boarder, and for some even stranger reason, he received a bid.

Before the ceremony began, we were introduced to Clayton Wilson, who was the chapter's fraternity advisor. He was responsible for overlooking the chapter's activities, to make certain that they fell within the rules of the fraternity and of common sense. Clayton, who had graying temples even though he was only in his mid-thirties, was an unabashed womanizer who almost always seemed to have a drink in his hand. He worked at the White House and boasted about being an important man there who was listened to on many important matters. In truth, though, I was told that he was nothing more than a minor official, an assistant to an assistant to an assistant.

Over the following years, I would notice that Clayton would spend an awful lot of time at the fraternity house, and almost never missed a party. A number of us would often wonder why he would spend so much time at the house. Was he somehow trying to stay young through us? Or was it just the free beer and the loose women?

After a few introductory words by Tom, we were taken downstairs to the basement and told to wait in one of the side rooms. A few minutes later, Joey walked in and put blindfolds on each of us. He then led us to the doorway of the meeting room.

"Brothers," he loudly addressed the room, "I have with me neophytes who wish to pledge their honor to our brotherhood."

"Bring them forth!" Tom shouted.

Joey then led us to a table in the front of the room and took off our blindfolds. It was completely dark except for a large candle that Tom was holding.

Tom, who was wearing a long black hooded robe, looked like Death from one of those old Ingmar Bergman films. After a brief pause, he slowly walked to the front of the table and placed the candle on top of it.

"Brothers," he said, "before us stand men of the highest honor. And tonight they ask, of their own free will, to pledge our brotherhood. Gentlemen, if you truly wish to pledge our brotherhood, please kneel in front of the table and place your left hand on the cross and your right hand in the air."

When I looked down at the table, I saw a large golden cross. Underneath the cross lay a Confederate flag, and next to the cross stood a portrait of Robert E. Lee.

"The Confederate Flag?" I thought. "Robert E. Lee? What the fuck is going on here? What the hell am I getting myself into?"

"Gentlemen," Tom continued, "please repeat after me the pledge oath of the Tau Mu brotherhood."

He picked up a large book, and began reading the oath. After each pause, we repeated in unison what he had said.

"I, (state your name), do solemnly pledge my honor to the brotherhood of Tau Mu and my life to the advancement of the Confederacy. During the term of pledging, I shall, by whatever means necessary, uphold the traditions, values, and beliefs of both the Tau Mu fraternity and the Confederacy, and vow not to reveal any secrets that I may come to know during this time to anyone outside the brotherhood. By taking this oath of allegiance to Tau Mu, I am at the same time vowing to live my life as an honorable Christian gentleman. To expressly and literally follow the teachings of our Savior, Jesus Christ. So help me God, amen."

After he finished reading the oath, Tom told us to stand up. He then shook each of our hands and congratulated us.

"Welcome to Tau Mu, gentlemen. You have now reached the first stage of joining the brotherhood. We sincerely hope that you will find your experience as a pledge as valuable and as memorable as the rest of us found it. I wish you the best of luck, and, come January, I look forward to calling each of you a brother."

Joey then walked up to us and gave us each a package.

"Here are your pledge manuals and pins," he said. "You should study the manual inside and out. To become a brother, you will have to show a mastery of all the material contained within it. Also, you must wear the pledge pins at all times while you are in public. Oh, and before I forget, every Tuesday at 8:30 P.M. there will be a mandatory pledge meeting at the house, starting next Tuesday. And you better have a damn good excuse if you don't show up for one of the meetings. That is, if you want to continue as a pledge."

The rest of the brothers congratulated us, and we walked back upstairs together, where a small keg of beer was waiting.

"I guess so much for studying tonight," Gary said to me as he poured himself a beer.

After we each got a beer, Bubba, Gary, and I stood in a corner of the main room and started talking. A few minutes later, Tom and George walked up to us.

"So what did you think about the ceremony?" George asked.

"You were certainly right, Dee," I said. "That ceremony was pretty strange. In fact, the word 'strange' doesn't do it justice. It's really hard to believe that I just took an oath to the Confederacy."

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's just the traditional oath. You have nothing to worry about. That is, just as long as the South doesn't rise again. Hey, Bubba, I guess you were pretty psyched to see the Confederate flag. You must have felt right at home."

"Hell no, Dee," Bubba indignantly replied. "I'm not from the South--I'm from West Virginia. Didn't you know that we split off from Virginia because we wanted to fight against the Confederacy?"

"And that turned out to be a real smart move," Tom joked.

"Hey," Bubba said, "so maybe Virginia is wealthier than us, and maybe they also have a better quality of life, but at least we can take some solace in the knowledge that we won the war."

A little later, I walked over to the keg to get another beer and I ran into Sanjay.

"Welcome aboard," he said as he poured us both beers.

"Thank you," I replied.

"So, are you glad that you finally did it?"

"Yeah, I think so. That ceremony though was really strange. I certainly never expected to be taking an oath to the Confederacy."

"You know, to be honest with you, I didn't even know what the Confederacy was when I pledged. I had to go to the library to read about it. I guess I didn't study much American history in India."

"Let me ask you something, Sanjay. You're a Hindu, right? Did it bother you making a vow to live your life as a good Christian gentlemen?"

"No, not at all. Firstly, I'm not a very religious Hindu. And secondly, even if I were, it's just words. It's not like Krishna is going to come down from the heavens and strike me down because of a few words I said. Words have no relation to what is in your heart."

When I walked back to the guys, George had a big smile on his face.

"So where's my beer, pledge?" he asked.

"I guess this is yours, sir," I sarcastically replied as I offered him my beer.

"That's what I thought," he said as he grabbed the beer from my hand.

"Boy, I certainly hope I'm not going to regret joining this frat," I whispered.

"What did you say?" George screamed at me.

"What? What do you mean?"

"What did you say? You said frat! This is not a 'frat,' pledge. This is a fraternity. Do you call your mother a 'moth'? Do you call your country a 'cunt'?"

I grudgingly shook my head.

"Good then," he continued, "don't ever, and I mean ever, let me hear you call this fraternity a 'frat'! Do you understand me, pledge?"

I immediately turned to Gary and smiled.

"I guess Dee is going to be a real asshole during this pledge thing, eh?" I whispered.

"Would you expect anything less from the man?" he whispered back.

Later that evening, I went outside to get some fresh air. As I walked through the front door, I saw Clayton talking to Tom on the steps.

"Clayton," Tom interrupted, "have you met one of our new pledges, Jake Stein?"

"No, I haven't had the pleasure," he smiled as he offered me his hand. "Congratulations. You know, I think we've got ourselves a really great pledge class. Do me a favor, Jake: talk to all the guys and come up with a date when all of you will be free. It's a tradition around here for me to take the pledge class out once a semester. We usually go to the Zebra Room for some pizza and drinks."

"That sounds great," I said. "I'll let you know."

"So, Tom," Clayton continued, "getting back to what we were talking about. I've been hearing some really wild things about this new little sister, Ann. Tell me, is everything they're saying about her true?"

"Believe everything you've heard. Now there's a girl on a mission. To be honest, if I didn't have a girlfriend, I would be awfully tempted myself. If you really want to know more about her, you should ask Joey. He's got an incredible story about her, and, I must say, I believe every word of it."

"Really? Maybe I should give this Ann a try. That is of course, if Joey hasn't badly soiled her already. I must say, though, it's hard to believe that she can be wilder than Belinda. Man, that chick almost gobbled my entire dick off last year."

While the two of them continued talking, Gary quietly walked up behind Clayton, carrying a pair of handcuffs. He placed one of the cuffs on the staircase railing and the other cuff around Clayton's wrist.

"What the fuck?" Clayton screamed when he saw the handcuff.

"I'm sorry," Gary apologized, trying hard to hold back a smile. "Joey told me that I had to do it. He said that it was a fraternity tradition."

"That motherfucking wop!" Clayton screamed. "Hey, Joey, this is one tradition that has to come to an end!"

Clayton tugged weakly at the handcuffs for a few moments before finally giving up.

"Well, it looks like I'm going to be here for a while. Jake, would you mind getting me another beer?"

The following Saturday night, Gary, Bubba and I went to the Black Rooster together.

"Hey, guys," Gary said as he finished his beer, "Sigma Phi Chi is having a party tonight. Do you want to go?"

"Why would you want to go there?" Bubba asked.

"There's a really cute little sister there that I've been trying to make points with. Her name is Donna, but I've already given her the nickname Donna Gary Wanna."

The three of us went to the party, but Donna was not there.

"Well, since we're here already," Gary said, "we might as well have a beer. Maybe she'll show up."

We went downstairs, got a couple of beers, and found a place to talk. Looking around, I noticed that almost everyone in the room seemed to have blond hair and blue eyes.

"Hey, Chad," I overheard one of them saying, "have you heard the latest?"

He quickly checked to see who was nearby before continuing.

"A guy runs into a barber shop and says to the barber, 'Quick, you better hide--they're killing all the Jews and barbers.' To which the barber replies, 'Why the barbers?' "

"Guys," I whispered, "maybe it's time to leave."

The following Tuesday night, we went to our first pledge meeting, during which Joey told us a little bit about the history of the fraternity. It had been founded at a small, now-defunct Southern military academy during the Civil War, and almost all the chapters were in the South. The George Washington chapter, founded in the early 1960s, was the farthest north the fraternity ever reached. Joey said that it was probably meant as a joke in defiance of the Civil Rights Movement. Although all the segregationist rhetoric that was almost surely espoused at one time had been officially removed from the fraternity's teachings, even in present day the fraternity was still oddly dedicated to the ideals of the Confederacy. We even had to learn the names and deeds of all the great Confederate military leaders.

While we learned at least something about the fraternity during that first meeting, subsequent pledge meetings seemed to center mostly around the wild sexual escapades of Joey and some of the other brothers. One meeting, we were even told the story about him and Ann.

"Well," he proudly began, "as some of you know, I have kitchen privileges at the Rooster. And well I should have, considering all the fucking money I spend there. Anyway, one evening Ann got really fucked up. As they were closing that night, she whispered into my ear that she was really horny and that she needed to have it right there and then. So, I took her back to the kitchen and we started fucking right on the floor, with Ann bucking wildly on top of me. I swear to God, we started at one corner of the kitchen, and by the time we finished, we were all the way on the other side. And there was a huge streak on the floor. Well, like I said, Ann was really fucked up. So get this: while she was still on top of me, she suddenly started throwing up all over the place, including all over my fucking chest! Believe me, I was pissed off, especially as I had to clean myself off in the kitchen sink. The really strange thing though was when I drove her back to the house. She told me that she was still fucking horny! So, believe it or not, that night I fucked Ann on top of my car, on top of the bar, and finally on top of the roof. I'll tell you, she is really something, because I must have fucked that chick four or five times that night, and usually two times is my limit. And that's on a good night."

At the end of the meeting, Joey told us that a number of brothers were planning on taking the pledges out to Beefsteak Charlie's the following Friday. Beefsteak Charlie's, a restaurant a few blocks from the White House, had been a favorite with us since freshman year, as for $10.99, you could get all the salad, shrimp, and baby-back ribs you could eat, and all the beer, wine, and sangria you could drink.

On Friday, I did not eat anything in anticipation of a big meal. That night, about a dozen of us went to Beefsteak Charlie's, and each of us had enormous amounts of salad, shrimp, ribs, and beer. After a couple of hours, Brian and I had each eaten six full racks of ribs, slightly ahead of Joey's five racks.

"I can't believe that me and Jake have eaten more than you, Joey," Brian said while we waited to order another round.

"The evening is still young, Brian," Joey replied. "The evening is still young."

When the waiter came back however, he had bad news.

"I'm sorry, guys," he said, "but we have a time-limit of two and a half hours. I can't serve you anymore."

"That's bullshit!" George screamed. "We have been coming here for a year and a half and we never heard of any fucking time-limit!"

It looked as if tears were about to form in George's eyes when Dennis, who worked as a waiter during the summer, calmly asked if he could speak to the waiter in private. We all hoped beyond hope that Dennis would somehow be able to reason with him.

"Okay, guys," Dennis said when he returned a few minutes later. "I struck a deal with him. He'll give each of us another half-rack of ribs and also bring us another four pitchers. But that was the best I could do."

"All right, Dennis!" everyone screamed. "Three cheers for brother Dennis: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!"

"Thanks, guys. Of course, I had to promise him one hell of a tip."

After the brothers paid the bill, Joey invited the pledges to go with him to Fourteenth Street to see a strip show.

"It's on me," he said after he belched.

As the seven of us were walking to Fourteenth Street, a guy walked up to us and started whispering.

"Hey, gentlemen," he said, "can I interest any of you this evening in some lovely?"

"No, thanks," Joey replied. "We're not interested, so get lost."

"Why did you say 'no' so quickly?" Gary asked after the man walked away. "Maybe this Lovely is really hot-looking."

"Gary, you idiot," Joey replied, "lovely's no chick--it's fucking angel dust!"

Just as we were about to enter the strip club, Joey decided to make a pit-stop at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

"Is anyone hungry?" he asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Gary replied.

"Why would I be kidding? Why don't you guys wait out here. I'm going to buy some chicken and biscuits. I'll be right out."

"Jake," Brian whispered to me, "now we know why Joey ate only 5 and a half racks of ribs to our 6 and a half. He wanted to save room for dessert."

After Joey brought the food outside, we stood and watched as he ate it. As soon as he finished, we finally walked into the strip club. I was surprised that almost everyone, including the manager and most of the strippers, seemed to know Joey personally.

"Hi, Joey," the manager smiled as he shook Joey's hand when we walked in. "How are you doing tonight? I've got your regular table available."

As we were walking to the table, one of the strippers came up to Joey and grabbed his crotch.

"Hi, lover," she cooed. "Do you think you might have a little time for me tonight? I'm sure one of the back rooms will be free later."

"Not tonight, baby," he replied as he gently pushed her away.

"Oh, don't be like that," she pleaded. "You know, I've got that brand of honey you like so much."

"Really? Well, maybe a little later."

After we sat down, the waiter brought us two bottles of cheap champagne.

"They're on the house, Joey," the waiter said as he opened both bottles. "If there is anything else you guys need, just let me know."

"Thanks, Billy," Joey said as he took a small sip of champagne. "I think that we're fine right now."

"I guess you come here often," Gary smiled.

"Oh, yeah. This place is like my home away from home. Well, that is, after the Rooster of course."

A few weeks later, we met Clayton at the Zebra Room, a fairly well known restaurant in Georgetown that served incredibly large pizzas. The largest pizza was so big that the management would not charge anyone who could eat the whole thing within an hour. Although we certainly had been looking forward to the dinner, we figured that it would most likely be a letdown after the evening with Joey.

When we arrived at the restaurant that evening, we saw that Clayton was already waiting for us. There was a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's on his table and he already looked pretty drunk.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," he slurred as he clumsily stood up and shook our hands.

A few moments later, the waitress came by and handed us menus.

"Order anything you'd like," he said. "After all, your Uncle Sam is picking up the tab tonight."

As we thought that we would be spending a dull evening talking about the fraternity, we were surprised by Clayton's first question.

"So tell me," he said after we ordered, "have any of you guys done a little sister yet?"

We all looked at each other, before Brian gingerly raised his hand.

"Really? Which one did you do, Brian?"

"Uhh, Ann," Brian answered, more than a little embarrassed. "It was after the party we had last month. One thing just led to another."

"Oh, very good choice!" Clayton smiled. "You know, I've already fucked her twice. And I don't have to tell you, Brian--she's one incredible lay. In fact, only a few weeks ago I was fucking her up the ass in the back seat of my car. Man, she was like a goddamn fucking animal!"

He then grabbed two of the table legs and started wildly and loudly grinding the table into his body. As he was doing this, an elderly couple who were leaving the restaurant stopped, and began staring at him in horror. When Clayton finally noticed that they were staring, he quickly stopped.

"You folks have a lovely evening," he grinned.

After the couple walked out of the restaurant, Gary started smiling at Clayton.

"I've heard that you've had sex with a lot of the little sisters," Gary said. "Is that really true?"

"Well, Gary, I'm very proud to say that, during the few years that I've had the honor of being chapter advisor, I have fucked almost all of the little sisters. Even the ones who have boyfriends in the fraternity. It's kind of like that 'right of the first night' thing all those Roman emperors had."

"You mean, you even fucked Jill and Beth?"

"Well, I can't say that I've gotten anything off of Jill yet. Tom is just a bit too protective of her. But I have nailed Beth a few times. However, let me tell you, it ain't nothing to write home about. Don't get me wrong now, Beth is certainly not a bad lay by any means. But quite honestly, there's nothing special about getting Joey's sloppy seconds. I mean, you could stick a fucking crowbar in her."

As the pizzas came, Brian attempted to change the subject a little.

"Tell me, Clayton," he said, "what's it like working in the White House? You know, politics really interest me."

"Oh, it's great, Brian," Clayton answered after swallowing a large mouthful of pizza. "We've been able to do a lot of great things for this country since we've come to power. As you know, it's morning in America again. And I'd like to think that I've played a significant role in our nation's recovery."

By the time we finished eating, Clayton was so drunk that it looked as if he would pass out right at the table. We quickly got the check and stopped the first cab we saw once we left.

"But I'm driving," he insisted as we put him in the cab.

"Not tonight you're not," Bubba said. "You can pick up your car in the morning. Right now you're in no condition to walk, let alone drive."

Once the cab left, the six of us began walking back to campus.

"You know what, guys?" Brian said as we left Georgetown. "I've always suspected that Republicans were soulless, but now I know it for sure."

About a month later, the day after exams were over, Gary and I went to the house to say good-bye to everyone. However, only Tall Paul was there. I think that it was the first time that we ever really talked to him, even though we lived on the same floor together for a year and a half.

"So, are you guys excited about Pledge Weekend?" he asked.

"I guess so," Gary said. "We have no idea really what to expect though."

"Trust me, it's a great time. You'll really enjoy it."

After we left the house, Gary started shaking his head.

"What was he fucking bullshitting about?" he said. "We all know that this is going to be the worst weekend of our lives."

After I got home for winter recess, I told my parents for the first time that I was joining a fraternity. While it did not seem to bother my father much, my mother was quite upset.

"What?" she hollered as we drove home from the airport. "Why in the world would you want to join a fraternity? You know, I've seen a lot of programs about fraternities. It seems like they're all just a bunch of boozers and womanizers."

"Exactly," I softly whispered to myself.

9

2006-05-24T18:31:00.000-07:00

9

Sophomorons

BY the time I returned to school in late August, Gary and Bubba had already checked into our new room. Over the summer, Gary had bought the huge stereo he had talked about, and when I walked into the room with my father, he was loudly playing Van Halen's "Unchained." As soon as Bubba saw us, he lowered the volume, and he and Gary introduced themselves to my father. After my father left, Gary turned the music back on high.

"I hope that you're not going to be blasting that damn devil music all year long," Bubba said. "You know, Jake, the Resident Assistant on the floor has already complained about the volume."

"I guess you're not a big fan of Van Halen," I said.

"No, not at all."

"So what type of music do you like?"

"I like all kinds of music," he smiled. "Just as long as they're all country music."

"Rule number one, Bubba," Gary said, "do not, and I repeat, do not play any of that shit while I'm in the room. Because if you do, there's going to be a fucking homicide here. And that goes double for your shit, Jake."

"Don't worry," I replied. "I didn't even bring any music with me. So, I guess George isn't here yet?"

"Not yet," Gary answered. "I talked to him about a week ago though, and he said that he'd be here sometime this week. However, Bubba and I want to rent some furniture as soon as possible. We even saw an advertisement from a store on K Street."

That afternoon, we walked to the rental store and selected a television, a couch, a few chairs, and a refrigerator. I was shocked, though, when I saw how much interest they were charging.

"Guys, this is fucking usury," I said as I looked over the contract. "The financial charges are even worse than Kirby. We'll be paying through the ass."

"Well, do you have a better idea?" Gary asked. "Our room is enormous and it needs furniture. Otherwise, no chicks will come. And that'll mean Gary won't get his big dick wet."

Almost as soon as it was delivered, the combination of the furniture and Gary's large stereo made our room a focus of attention on the floor. Unfortunately, not all the attention was wanted, as when a short Hispanic guy wandered into the room later that afternoon while we were listening to the stereo.

"Hi, guys," he said. "My name is Al. Al Lopez. I'm a freshman and I live right across the hall from you guys. So, what are you doing? Listening to the stereo?"

Al sat in our room for the remainder of the day, and although we found him to be a pretty likable guy, he had one major flaw: he always seemed to need to talk, even when he had nothing to say. Because of this, he would often ask stupid questions.

We also learned that day that Al had a very colorful past. He was from a family of wealthy Nicaraguan refugees and even bragged about how his family left Nicaragua on the same plane as Somoza. Having learned English from a young age, Al not only spoke perfect English, but did not even have an accent.

The following day, while we were drinking beer and listening to the stereo, George finally arrived. Before even saying hello to anyone, he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

"Good," he smiled, "you guys were expecting me."

A few moments later, a short blonde woman angrily rushed into the room.

"Listen, guys," she said as she turned down the stereo, "I've already warned you a couple of times about the music. I'm going to have to write you all up."

"Wait a minute," George said. "Excuse me, but I just got here. I don't even know who the hell you are."

"I'm Daina. I'm the Resident Assistant on this floor. And who might you be?"

"Well, I might be Teddy Roosevelt--but I ain't. I'm George. I'm going to be living here."

"Well, I'm sorry, George, but I've already warned your roommates a couple of times about the volume of the stereo, and now you are all going to be written up."

"But I just got here," George pleaded, "literally just a few seconds ago."

"That's no excuse," she said as she stormed out.

"What a cunt!" George fumed as he slammed the door closed.

George was visibly upset, but the three of us could not stop laughing.

"It's not funny, guys," he whined. "I haven't been here more than five minutes and you guys have already gotten me into trouble."

"Don't worry about her, Dee," Gary said. "All she needs is a big, fat, juicy dick up her ass. And you know what? I think the Big Dee is just the guy to do it!"

"Fuck that shit! I wouldn't fuck her with your dick!"

"You know, George," Bubba smiled, "if I were you, I don't think I'd be so picky."

"Fuck you!" George screamed back. "Why don't you go fuck your seven-year-old girlfriend. What's her name again . . . Betsy Jo Bumfuck?"

"Her name is Jessie, and believe me, she's a hell of a lot more woman than you could ever get. And for your information, she's not seven--she's sixteen. In fact, she just had her sweet sixteen party a few weeks ago."

"So I guess you must be pretty psyched that she's legal now," Gary said.

"Gary, where I come from, they're born legal!"

After George finished unpacking, he carefully looked at the furniture.

"So tell me," he said, "is this furniture costing us a lot of money?"

"No, Al," Gary sarcastically answered.

"Al? Who the fuck is Al?"

Just then Al walked into the room and introduced himself to George.

"Hi," he said, "you must be George. I'm Al. You know, I've certainly heard a lot about you."

"Well, don't believe everything you hear," George replied.

"Tell me, was it true that you had sex with a girl named Martha on the front lawn of the Washington Monument?"

"Guys, what the fuck? What kind of shit have you been saying about me?"

"Only the truth, Dee," Gary replied.

"That's exactly what I was afraid of. So much for starting the year anew."

As the furniture almost completely filled the main room, we had to be a little creative with the beds. Gary and Bubba decided to share the side room, while George took the alcove. That left me with the closet. I didn't mind, though, as I had privacy and it was a rather large closet.

After we finished arranging the room, we went downstairs for lunch. While we were eating, the subject of grades came up.

"So how did you guys do last semester?" Bubba asked.

"I got a 3.4," I said proudly. "Believe me, it was a big relief."

"And how about you, George?" Bubba asked.

"Let's talk about something else, guys."

After lunch, we stopped by Tom's room. Tom, the two Pauls, and Johnny Mass were drinking beer outside their room with Joey Gotti. They handed us a couple of beers and we listened as they made fun of just about everyone who walked by.

"Excuse me," Joey said to Daina when she walked out of her room, "could I ask you a question?"

"I suppose so," she replied. "What is it?"

"Do you swallow?"

While all of us laughed, a look of revulsion came across Daina's face.

"That's disgusting!" she shouted as she walked away. "What a pig you are!"

"Hey now, little lady," Joey smiled, "you shouldn't talk to me like that. After all, I'm really rich."

Daina stopped and turned back to him.

"Big bucks don't impress me," she said with her hands at her hips.

"Really? What about big dicks?"

"You know, you guys are just a bunch of morons!"

"Excuse me, Daina," Tom interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I feel I must correct you on that last point. We are not morons--we're sophomorons."

"Hey, Joey," George said after Daina stepped into the elevator, "I must say that you really have a way with women. You know just the right things to say."

"Well, Dee," Joey replied, "some guys have it, and some guys don't. And I definitely have it!"

"Well, whatever you've got, Joey," Tom smiled, "please keep it to yourself, because I for one certainly don't want to catch it."

Joey, who lived in the Tau Mu house, spent a lot of time on our floor that year, as he went out with a girl named Beth who lived down the hallway from us. By coincidence, Tom went out with her roommate, Jill. Although Jill was considerably better looking than Beth, Joey always bragged that Beth made up for her lack of looks by being incredibly wild in bed.

"Beth fucks like a banshee," Joey would say whenever the subject came up.

The following day, we registered for classes, which meant standing in endless lines again. After I signed up for my classes, I went to the Marvin Center to pay my tuition. While I was waiting, I noticed an attractive brunette standing in one of the lines a few feet away from me. What made her particularly interesting was that she looked a lot like Sarah Goldman, a girl from my neighborhood whom I had known since childhood. Although the resemblance to Sarah was remarkable, I finally convinced myself that it could not possibly have been her, as I knew that Sarah went to Boston University.

I was positive that it was just my imagination, especially as I had had a strong crush on Sarah ever since we went to day camp together as children. We lived only a few blocks away from each other, but we might as well have lived a few hundred miles apart. She was both pretty and popular, and rarely even spoke to me.

After I paid, I went back home. As I was walking passed the library, I saw someone else I recognized from my neighborhood. This time though there were no doubts, as Bill Walker, whom I had known since elementary school, walked up to me and said hello. While we had not exactly been friends, I was at least friendlier with him than I was with most of the people I knew growing up.

"Bill?" I said as I shook his hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I just transferred here from Seton Hall," he replied. "In fact, I'm not the only person from our high school who transferred here. Sarah Goldman also transferred. I met her on the street the other day."

"Are you serious? Sarah Goldman transferred here? You know, I thought I saw her standing in the registration line a little while ago. I thought I was going crazy."

"No, you're definitely not going crazy. Hey, I've got to run right now, but I heard that there is going to be some kind of party at the Marvin Center tonight. At least, that's what I think they call that big building on the corner there. Why don't you stop by. We'll throw down a couple of beers and talk about old times."

When I returned to the room, only George was home. He was listening to one of his Kiss records, with the volume turned all the way up as usual. When he saw me walk in, he turned the volume down a little.

"So how did it go?" he asked. "Did you get all the classes you wanted?"

"Yeah, pretty much. One of the good things about being a Philosophy major is never having to worry about being bumped from an important class. The weird thing though was that I saw two people from my high school class. They both transferred here. It's really strange, neither one of them lives more than a few blocks from my house. Tell me, what are the chances of that happening?"

"I don't know. That does sound strange. So, do they drink beer?"

That evening, George, Gary, Bubba and I went to the party at the Marvin Center. Near the entrance, a group of students were selling tickets for $1, which we could exchange for either beer or soda. As we knew a couple of the guys working there, though, we were able to get free tickets throughout the night when no one was looking.

An hour after we arrived, Bill walked in.

"Hey, can I buy you a beer?" I said to him as I pulled out a fist full of tickets from my pocket.

"It looks like you're hunkering down for a long evening," he smiled as he shook my hand. "You must have a couple dozen tickets."

"Well, you can never have enough beer tickets."

I bought a couple of beers and we sat down at a nearby table.

"So, why did you transfer here?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I really didn't like Seton Hall that much. I actually looked at a number of schools, but I really liked the fact that the drinking age here is only eighteen. That was good enough reason for me. Also, when I visited here last year, I saw lots of nice-looking pussy. I bet one can get laid an awful lot here. But hell, I don't need to tell a stud like you that."

"Oh, fuck you!" I snarled. "Hey, maybe I'm not as good-looking as you, but that doesn't mean that you have to be such a fucking asshole about it."

He seemed taken back by my reaction, probably as I had never been the type of person who stood up for himself.

"Hey, Jake, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I really didn't mean anything by it. You know me, I can be a real asshole sometimes. It's just my nature."

"It's okay," I smiled. "Forget it. I probably just overreacted. Hey, let's just drink."

After we finished the first round, I gave Bill a few tickets to buy some more beer. He was smiling when he returned.

"You'll never guess who just walked in, Jake," he said as he handed me a beer. "Sarah Goldman. Boy, there's one fucking JAP cunt. I don't know what you think about her, Jake, but I really can't stand her. Of course, I certainly wouldn't mind grudge fucking her once or twice. Yeah, I'd sure like to tear her a new asshole. And I do mean literally."

A few minutes later, Sarah walked up to our table and smiled.

"Hi, Bill," she said.

"Oh, hi, Sarah," he politely replied. "So how's everything going?"

"Okay, I guess. And yourself?"

"Great. Jake over here has free beer tickets. You remember Jake, don't you?"

"Hi, Sarah," I nervously smiled.

"Oh, hi," she coldly replied, before turning back to Bill.

They continued talking to each other for a few minutes until Sarah excused herself and left.

"You know what, Bill?" I said. "You're right--she is a JAP cunt."

I wanted to feel that I had made considerable improvement in myself over the previous year, but it was obvious to me that night, especially after the way Sarah treated me, that I had not changed much at all.

The following week, Tau Mu held their rush party. As they did a fair amount of advertising around campus, there were considerably more people at the party than there had been the previous semester. Also, as opposed to the previous semester, they had a keg of beer, as well as a beverage they called "Black Night, Black Death Punch."

When Gary and I got to the party, we immediately found George and told him that we wanted bids to join. Bubba, on the other hand, was still not interested in joining. We could tell, though, that he was having serious second thoughts about it, especially as he was going to be the only one in our room not in the fraternity.

When I walked downstairs to get a beer, I was surprised to see Al, and I was even more surprised when he told me that he wanted to join the fraternity. Almost from the day he arrived at school, he had been constantly and relentlessly teased by Tom and his roommates, and by us as well.

Not long after we met Al, we began calling him "Big Al." This nickname then somehow deviated to "Big Fucking Al." One afternoon, though, Al got very mad.

"That's it!" he screamed at everyone. "Look, stop calling me that. My name is Al. It's not 'Big Al,' it's not 'Big Fucking Al,' it's just Al. You got it--it's just Al."

"Okay, Just Al," Tom laughed. "From now on, we'll call you 'Just Al.' "

That nickname lasted about a week. Then late one night, Al, who almost always wore an old torn ZZ-Top concert T-shirt to bed, walked into our room to see what we were up to. Tom, who was watching the David Letterman show with us, started smiling as soon as he saw Al walk in. Moments later, he started singing to the melody of the Police's "Roxanne":

Rooooooooxxxxxal, you don't have to put on that ZZ-Top shirt with holes tonight.

Al would no longer be called "Al," "Big Al," "Big Fucking Al," or even "Just Al." For the rest of his college days he would be known to us only as "Roxal."

After I got a beer, I walked back upstairs. There were quite a few people in the main room dancing, including Ann Conti. Ann, a freshman who also lived on our floor, in less than one month somehow built a reputation that far exceeded even Belinda's. If everything people were saying about her was to be believed, she must have had already slept with at least a dozen different guys.

Toward the end of the evening, from a combination of both beer and punch, I got quite drunk. The punch, which was considered the "alternative beverage" at the party, was intended mainly for the female guests in spite of its strength. I liked the taste, though, so I had more than my share. I also liked the large pieces of fruit that were floating in it, without knowing at the time that they contained the highest concentration of alcohol. When I finally left, I was far drunker than I had ever been before.

When I got home, I sat quietly on my bed for a few minutes. Before I knew it, though, I started vomiting all over the closet. I was so drunk that it appeared to me as if there were other people in the closet vomiting with me. When Bubba came home a little later, he walked into the closet on the way to the bathroom and cried out when he saw all the vomit.

"Jake, what the hell happened in here?"

"Oh, Bubba," I slurred, "you should have seen it. There were a bunch of people in here with me, and we were all throwing up together."

The next morning, when I walked out into the main room, everyone started laughing at me.

"So how are you feeling, buddy?" George asked.

"Well," I replied, "as Nietzsche said, whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger."

"Nietzsche said that? I thought G. Gordon Liddy said that."

"Same difference."

"So tell me," Gary said, "exactly how many guys were throwing up with you in the closet last night?"

"Okay, very funny," I replied. "You guys have no fucking idea how out of my mind I was. I had no clue what was going on, let alone what I was saying."

"So they were all throwing up with you, huh?" Bubba said. "Well, it's too bad that they didn't stay and help me clean it up."

Later that week, the four of us were in the room studying together, when an Asian guy walked in.

"Hey, Bubba," he said, "Dung wanted me to give you back the notes he borrowed from you."

"Thanks, Wong," Bubba replied as he took the notepad. "Hey, me and Gary are having a real tough time solving this problem for differential equations. Do you think you could help us?"

"Sure, no problem," he replied. "But it gonna cost you five dollar. Noting free. This America, land of opportunity."

"Five dollars?" Bubba screamed. "You've got to be kidding! Why don't you just get the fuck out of here. We ain't going to give you no five dollar."

"Okay, but you know where to find me when you change your mind."

"Can you believe that guy?" Bubba said to Gary after Wong left. "Land of opportunity. Who the fuck let him into this country anyway?"

A few moments later, Tom and Joey came to the door.

"Excuse me, guys," Tom said, "but we'd liked to talk to Gary and Jake for a few minutes. As the President of the George Washington chapter of Tau Mu, I would like to formally invite both of you to pledge our fraternity. I hope you guys this time will really seriously consider joining. We are really proud about how our fraternity is developing and we think that both of you would make great additions."

Without hesitation, both Gary and I immediately accepted our bids. It seemed that Tom and Joey were surprised that we accepted so quickly.

"Wow," Tom said, "we are really on a roll tonight. Fucking Roxal immediately accepted his bid as well."

As soon as they left, George quickly turned to Bubba.

"Of course, Bubba," he said, "you understand why you didn't get a bid. We knew that you didn't want one. But we talked about it, and everyone agreed that if you change your mind before the pledge ceremony next Tuesday, we'll give you a bid. We'd really like you to join."

"Really?" Bubba said. "I don't know what to say. You know, at this point, I must admit, I really wouldn't mind joining. It's my parents though; they're dead set against it. They say that fraternities are paganistic and ritualistic. They think that they are very unchristian."

"That couldn't be further from the truth," George insisted. "In fact, Tau Mu is a Christian fraternity."

"What I don't understand," Gary said, "is why it's so important what your parents think. You're nineteen years old--you're an adult. You should be making your own decisions."

"Why is it so important to me what my parents think, Gary? Well, I'll tell you why. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they are paying for my education, not to mention all my other expenses. And even more importantly, I don't know what you guys up North think, but where I'm from, people still listen to and respect their parents."

During the next few days, Bubba agonized about what to do. He even asked me for my opinion.

"I really can't tell you what you should do, Bubba," I said. "It's got to be your decision. If you really believe that you shouldn't join, don't join. It's that simple. But if you really want to join and the only thing holding you back is your parents, maybe you should give them a call and try to convince them that joining a fraternity would not be in any way going against your religious beliefs."

Finally, early one morning, a few days before the pledge ceremony, I heard Bubba wake George up out of bed.

"What?" George said, still half asleep. "What's wrong?"

"I want a bid," Bubba firmly replied. "Fuck my parents!"

House of Kidz (DRAFT)

Table of Contents

"Oh, wretched memory that compels us to remember the paths we took to arrive at the present state of affairs!"-- Witold Gombrowicz

Introduction

Introduction

25

25Growing Up

24

24Scorpion Bowls for Four

23

23Go Deep--I'll Fake It to You

22

22Dropping Trou

21

21The Color of Honor

20

20Thanksgiving at Daddy's

19

19They Hate Jews, Don't They?

18

18The Summer of Contemplation and Consumption

Table of Contents

"Oh, wretched memory that compels to remember the paths we took to arrive at the present state of affairs!"-- Witold Gombrowicz

17

17Fun Is the Best Thing to Have

16

16Too Bad, I Did Her

15

15One Small Sip

14

14The Summer of Highs and Lows

13

13White Wedding

12

12Brother's Keeper

11

11The Best of All Possible Weekends

10

10When a Frat Is Not a Frat

9

9Sophomorons

"Oh, wretched memory that compels us to remember the paths we took to arrive at the present state of affairs!"
-- Witold Gombrowicz

25

Growing Up

24

Scorpion Bowls for Four

23

Go Deep--I'll Fake It to You

22

Dropping Trou

21

The Color of Honor

20

Thanksgiving at Daddy's

19

They Hate Jews, Don't They?

18

The Summer of Contemplation and Consumption

"Oh, wretched memory that compels to remember the paths we took to arrive at the present state of affairs!"

-- Witold Gombrowicz

17

Fun Is the Best Thing to Have

16

Too Bad, I Did Her

15

One Small Sip

14

The Summer of Highs and Lows

13

White Wedding

12

Brother's Keeper

11

The Best of All Possible Weekends

10

When a Frat Is Not a Frat

9

Sophomorons