Knocked out the other 300+ pages of the Wolfe book last night. Ahhh...Tuesday is the best reading night in the world, there's absoultely nothing on the boob tube to distract me.
The denouement of the book takes place at a fraternity formal at a posh hotel in DC, and it reminded me of my first Sig Ep formal way back in 1994. It was held at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Buffalo, which is probably the poshest hotel in the Nickel City, and that sure as hell ain't saying much.
I was a pledge at the time, so my primary duty was to fetch drinks for brothers and let them bum smokes off me (all pledges were required to carry cigarettes at all times...to spite the brothers we used to buy Camels since they always wanted Marlboro Lights), but I was allowed to have my fun. The girl I was dating at the time, Kara, was a Phi Sig, a year older than me, and totally udnertsanding of the fact that I was a pledge and would probably ignore her all night. I pretty much did.
I remember being force fed Manhattans by one of the alumni brothers. I remember doing shots of Goldschlager with the other guys in my pledge class, and then we all got chewed out for singing the "drink, motherfucker, drink" song at one of our fellow pledge brethren. My big brother was a Jewish guy from Long Island, but he loved Wild Turkey, so I drank a truckload of that too. Eventually, I remember our whole pledge class dancing in one of the fountains, getting the one suit that I had brought to college with me soaking wet, and ruining my only pair of good shoes.
After the formal, we all piled into cabs and went to a bar called the Bradford. I have no clue how I remember that. I can still see Darren (who was like my best college friend long before the whole frat thing started) puking into a plastic cup sitting in a chair in the corner, and being carried out by a couple guys in pretty much the same manner that football players who blow out knees (but don't ride on the cart) and back to the hotel. He ended up getting the nickname "Scarecrow" for that.
David Terrell: busted for reckless driving. Wonder if he dropped his license as he handed it to the cop.
The denouement of the book takes place at a fraternity formal at a posh hotel in DC, and it reminded me of my first Sig Ep formal way back in 1994. It was held at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Buffalo, which is probably the poshest hotel in the Nickel City, and that sure as hell ain't saying much.
I was a pledge at the time, so my primary duty was to fetch drinks for brothers and let them bum smokes off me (all pledges were required to carry cigarettes at all times...to spite the brothers we used to buy Camels since they always wanted Marlboro Lights), but I was allowed to have my fun. The girl I was dating at the time, Kara, was a Phi Sig, a year older than me, and totally udnertsanding of the fact that I was a pledge and would probably ignore her all night. I pretty much did.
I remember being force fed Manhattans by one of the alumni brothers. I remember doing shots of Goldschlager with the other guys in my pledge class, and then we all got chewed out for singing the "drink, motherfucker, drink" song at one of our fellow pledge brethren. My big brother was a Jewish guy from Long Island, but he loved Wild Turkey, so I drank a truckload of that too. Eventually, I remember our whole pledge class dancing in one of the fountains, getting the one suit that I had brought to college with me soaking wet, and ruining my only pair of good shoes.
After the formal, we all piled into cabs and went to a bar called the Bradford. I have no clue how I remember that. I can still see Darren (who was like my best college friend long before the whole frat thing started) puking into a plastic cup sitting in a chair in the corner, and being carried out by a couple guys in pretty much the same manner that football players who blow out knees (but don't ride on the cart) and back to the hotel. He ended up getting the nickname "Scarecrow" for that.
David Terrell: busted for reckless driving. Wonder if he dropped his license as he handed it to the cop.
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