The summer of 2008 dragged on like a bad Family Guy gag, and all I could think about was getting back to Oneonta to begin my title defense as reigning MVP. For three hot and humid months I worked overnight at Target unloading trucks so I could build up funds to support my habit of being a Champion. It was by far the worst job I ever had. I worked incredibly long hours at inconvenient times doing strenuous labor for ridiculously small wages. I now know what it feels like to be a child in Indonesia. But no matter how bad it seemed at times, the modest compensation and slave-like working conditions could not put a damper on my spirits, because I knew that soon enough I would be back on Market Street in Oneonta wreaking havoc with my brothers. My biggest regret of working at Target was that the overnight shift made it virtually impossible for me to go out and party, so I literally got no pussy. I mean none. I got to know my laptop pretty good that summer, but the college sluts couldn’t have come soon enough.
When the time finally came to move back to Oneonta, I could barely contain my excitement, and the morning of my departure I woke up and all of my shit was already packed. There was also an empty twelve pack of Bud Light next to my bed and a half-smoked pack of bogeys. After pondering the situation and going through a process of mental deduction that would rival Sherlock Holmes, I realized that I somehow managed to pack my clothes and get drunk while I was sleeping…yes, I am a Champion. I also realized that I had way too much stuff to move into the Party Apartment, so one car and one trip was not going to be possible. I decided I would drive out to Oneonta with my boy Pete and bring a bag of clothes, and my parents would come the following day with a truck and all of my furniture, electronics, and Championship Ring display cases. All I had to do that first night was find a place to crash, and considering I had plans to get the D wet, it was not going to be an issue.
Even though Albany is only an hour away, the car ride to the City of Hills felt like an eternity. I passed the time by taking shots of Jack Daniels. When we finally arrived, the partying started immediately. Everybody was happy to be back, but nobody was ready for the Oneonta lifestyle yet, so the majority of people got unbelievably fucked up after only an hour. After annihilating opponents in beer pong and walking on my hands for a few hours, I found a girl that I maintained contact with over summer. When she invited me back to her place, I knew that all of my plans were going to work out. As soon as we entered her apartment we started hooking up, but as I mentioned before, I didn’t hook up with any girls all summer, so the nut I had built up was like the molten lava that pushed towards the surface of Mount St. Helens before the disastrous 1980 eruption. When she finally went down to finish me off, it looked something like this:
After finally getting my nut off, I fell asleep and obviously slept better than I had all summer. When I awoke the next morning, my parents were waiting for me in the parking lot of my new apartment – the Party Apartment. As I arrived at my new living quarters, two ideas were presented to me that I later determined to be incredibly stupid. The first thing was that I heard our rival fraternity was living and partying in the same building right down the hall from us. This meant there were going to be brawls, and considering that some of my fellow champions like Fuzz and Joba would be roaming the corridors late at night after drinking, there were going to be a lot of brawls.
The second idea that I later deemed idiotic was my expectation for making my bedroom look real cool when it was set up. I hung posters and arranged all of my belongings to give my room a clean and orderly appearance. The rooms in this apartment also had lofts where we put our beds, so I hung lights all around the walls and up the ladder to the loft. For the first few hours that I was all moved in and unpacked, my room was the shit. It did not last long.
That night, we wanted to throw a pre-Rush banger at my apartment. For those of you who have never experienced Greek Life, Rush week is when frats and sororities throw parties and sponsor events every day and night for two weeks to recruit new pledges. Some of the craziest experiences of my life happened during Rush, but that’s because I’m a Champion and I don’t pay attention to rules or give a fuck. However, most members of Greek organizations have a lot of responsibilities during Rush Week, so they can’t have as much fun at the parties. For example, guys have to actually be nice to other guys that they don’t know, and girls have to babysit their potential pledges so they don’t end up like an underage boy taking a shower after a Penn State football practice.
Anyways, when my whole fraternity assembled in the main room of my apartment, we were giddy with anticipation. After about a half hour, it was still only my fraternity and the three kegs, and we all started to worry that the lack of people could be foreshadowing a wack school year. Then out of nowhere, two buses pulled up and unloaded scores of kids, and this was only the first of several waves. It was like a mass exodus of young college students who were forced from the homes of their parents with nowhere to go except my apartment to obtain the nourishment of our alcohol and drugs. It was fucking insane. People were hammered and dancing and sweating and thumb-darting and funneling and snorting and smoking and fighting and laughing and jumping for joy. Well, I was jumping for joy, the other partygoers were doing the other things. After a few hours of this , everybody was completely blacked out. When I tried to bring a girl up the stairs to my room, we were so drunk it looked something like this:
Needless to say, we didn’t hook up. What I ended up doing was accidentally destroying my entire room. I was so fucked up that I couldn’t keep my balance when I tried to climb the ladder to my loft, so I fell off of it. As I was tipping over, I grabbed the lights that I had hung on the wall to try to stabilize myself, but I still fell and ripped them all down with me. This apparently pissed me off, so I punched a few holes in my walls to release some anger. On my second attempt at climbing to my loft, I fell again, but this time I landed hard in my closet and knocked over everything in it. Refusing to give up, I tried to climb the ladder for a third time, and believe it or not I somehow succeeded. All of this going up and down must have mixed up the contents of my stomach pretty good though, because when I got to the top I projectile vomited off my loft and onto the rug below. The force of the throw-up stream was so powerful that it took a stack of DVD’s with it on the way down. Then, I passed the fuck out…with my Timbs on.
The next morning I woke up with one of the worst headaches I ever had. It took me a minute to figure out why my room looked like a Third World Country recovering from a natural disaster, but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of Rush Week to care. And it just so happens that Rush Week started that night in the same way it started every semester during my college career – with a thousand shots, three kegs, and an army of college girls who were about to have their first encounter with a Champion….