Fast forward to senior year...I've finally moved out of the fraternity house and into a duplex with two of my pledge brothers, Don Marco and Dr. Studyman. These guys were on totally opposite ends of the pledge class (general business vs. pre med; 4am drinking vs. 4am cramming; pussy slayer vs. pussy tamer; etc...), but they were both good friends of mine. Don Marco and I were dating roommates and I was Dr. Studyman's go-to guy on the few weekends that he would get out and blow off steam. I thought it was perfect, living in the middle of two extremes...Sounds like the start of a sit-com right?
When we arrived on campus in early August (it was a ritual to get to school early and do fratlaps during sorority rush week), we were informed that our duplex would not be ready until late September. We had two options:
1) we could move into another fully furnished (finished) apartment in a different subdivision or
2) we could stay at the Heart of Auburn Motel in the extended stay units until ours was done.
We chose option 2...
Really though, how could we not. Free rent, free cable, free maid service, not to mention the reality company gave each of us $50 a week for food even though we had a full kitchen in the suite. But the real kicker for those of you not familiar with the area, was that it was stumbling distance from the bar and even closer than that to Taco Bell. It was like doing Panama City in Auburn.
All that freedom must have gone to our heads because within two weeks of moving into the hotel, Don Marco had severed ties with his half of our roommate duo...I was soon to follow. Every night was a nonstop party. Our hotel room became an even better pre-party locale than the fraternity house due in equal parts to the closer proximity to the bars and to the Bohemian sense of revelry that encapsulated the place. We had other similarly displaced collegians all around us so no one to complained about noise and everyone was spending their "food stipends" on booze. On several occasions there were instances of near death due to someone almost falling over the balcony railings or getting run down in the under-lit parking lot...in short, it really was like spring break in August. Even Dr. Studyman put down the books and got into the action.
One morning in the midst of a hungover haze, Don Marco looks over at me and says, "Colin, this is our senior year, we have to raise the bar." Sounds like the start of a National Lampoon's movie right? Well to be fair, Don Marco bore a surprising resemblance to Bluto...a fact we accentuated by framing a six foot poster of Jim Belushi chugging Jack Daniels in his 'College' sweat shirt and displaying it prominently in the front room.
"Raise the bar?" I inquired. "How do you propose we go about doing that?"
I expected half-hearted, hungover cliches. What I got was a full on corporate board room presentation. He cleared the coffee table and laid out charts and maps to aid his multi-point pitch about exactly how we would go about "raising the bar." He even insisted that I wake up Dr. S and that we all be in on this project together. It was very "Stand By Me." In his plan, every night we went out, we would play a new game. Each game was intended to get someone (if not all of us) laid. If someone got laid then they...you guessed it, "raised the bar." If the bar was not raised all week, something would have to be done...usually a fat chick. :) We came up with a whole host of games over that year which I won't go into in detail at the moment, but our favorite; our Thursday night, backs against the wall, go-to play was what we liked to call...the waiting game.
Everyone knows at the college keg party there are lots of different types of people...that sweet, sweet draft nectar tends to soften the beefs of many different herds and much like the Serengeti, they flock to the silver watering hole to get their liquid refreshment. The waiting game makes you the alligator. All party long while the jocks and the popped collar, super fratos strut around crowing and cawing for the attention of the "be there to be seen" girls, you just bide your time. Sip the beer, scan the periphery, have a couple of drunken debates with the politicos....all the time waiting. Soon the crowd will thin. The strutters will take their show to the bar to see and be seen, and the serious drunks will make themselves known. At this point look around again. Targets will emerge. There will probably be two types of girls left. The girlfriends (DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!!) and the chronically low self esteem girls (the weak and wounded if you will). These girls have such a low opinion of themselves (rightly or wrongly, I've seen it both ways) that they think that the only way guys will be interested in them is if they are really wasted. So in a sense, they are predatory too...looking for that drunky drunk guy. Look for the Sad Sally in the corner and bring her a beer...or three. Offer her a ride home, then you are home free.And thus are the general rules of the waiting game.
I told you all that to tell you this:
It was the end of our first week of raising the bar and I had yet to raise it at all...not even just a little bit.
Both of the others had some success earlier in the week and I was determined not be the weak link in our house. On a mission, I ventured out that night to a pledge keg and informed all interested parties that I was a sophomore. I waited, I sipped, I had random conversations, I waited some more...A second keg was bought....I repeated the process. Finally, around 3am, I had my mark. Unfortunately I was a little more drunk than I had intended to be. I stumbled over and offered a beer, it was accepted. We had a drunk convo and then I offered a ride home, it was accepted.Meanwhile...back at the Heart of Auburn, my roommates were plotting against me...
The suite only had two rooms, each with two double beds. The rule was anyone bringing home a shacker got the alone room and the others would share...simple enough. Since I was anticipating bringing home a girl, they were in the other room, but these two Chatty Cathys couldn't sleep so they thought it would be a great idea to fuck with me when I got home.Here's what happened:
Don Marco went to the front desk and informed them that one of our keys had been stolen and we didn't feel safe...they came and re-keyed the door.
1) About this time Random Keg Girl and I are headed to her house...by way of the Heart of Auburn. She starts to get a little freaked out when I slip up at tell her that I'm in fact a senior not a sophomore (gotta keep that story straight...idiot!).
2) She starts to get really freaked out when I pull into the Heart of Auburn Motel rather than some apartment complex like a normal college student.
3) I have just hastily and probably not very clearly explained to her our convoluted living situation, when I realize that my key doesn't work (strike three if your counting).
Perplexed, I just start beating on the door. No one answers. I call Don Marco...
-"Hello?" he answers with feigned sleepiness
-"Marco, I need you to unlock the door for me...my key's not working."
-"Did you raise the bar?"
-"Bout to if you get your dego wop ass out here and open this mother fucking door!"
My racial slurs and curse words don't even have time to register in Random Keg Girl's brain because in the next instant, Marco flings the door wide open. He is standing there ass naked with a tube sock over his Johnson. "Welcome to Casa De Bauchery!" he booms. Remember Bluto? Yeah...naked...He looks like he's wearing a sweater...covered in hair...like an unkempt Italian black bear.
At this point I wasn't going to even offer up an excuse. I was merely counting it as a loss and already working on a way to get Don Marco back, but to my total shock, she seemed unfazed...in fact, I think that might have been the moment that she was like, "Ok, these guys are just stupid frat boys...not psycho killers." We walked right past an equally stunned Don Marco and went into the empty bedroom...
And that dear friends, is how Colin raised the bar...the first time.
