The Old Alma Mater Part I

So, as other Alex pointed out, I took a constitutional off to the old alma mater this week. My successor as fearless leader of my a cappella group informed me that there may not have been a group anymore if I didn't come back and sing at the concert for all the new freshmen. I knew this was an exaggeration, but I, jobless and loving all things about the old alma mater, hastily made my way to the campus anyways. I packed three shirts, three pants (one of which of the pajama variety), and three pairs of boxers. I plan on being there from Wednesday afternoon to Friday afternoon.

I arrive earlier than expected, and within a few hours have found frisbee practice and, without proper footwear, gotten a few nice dirt marks on pants #1. One might have called them dirty at this point. This does not stop me from wearing them for the next two and a half days. Apparently during practice I tried to call the ex and see what she was up to, but instead called the old friend with a very similar name to the ex. She informed me of this later, but I, not having remembered making the calling, blame a rook. We talk about how each of us is doing, having not had what one might call a conversation in a good year, hinting at the awkwardness of good friends turning into old ones.

All of this happened at the a cappella concert, which was the reason I made the six and a half hour trek to the old alma mater. Before going on in front the new breed of freshmen, the other all-male group allowed me to take a slug from their handle of the good Doctor. Five minutes later, my obligations were done. I stuck around with the Hobester and watched Teets, another frisbee alum, sing.

We leave and go to McRookle's room and drink beers while he talks about his recent run ins with the law, one of which was being caught peeing on Canal Street. I tell him about the time I was almost caught peeing on campus. Fortunately I couldn't find the hole in my boxers until the security guard came out of the bushes. Foolish as they are and seeing I wasn't as deathly drunk as he expected, he let me off without even checking the wall for a puddle. McRookle was not as lucky. The judge wouldn't even be sympathetic when he explained that he was getting on a train and really needed to pee.

After that, Hobester and I found Preggers and a few other salty dogs in his room. There were fires to be lit. Funny thing about the old alma mater is that 95% of the time there is no opium on the campus. Maybe even 96%. During the other 4-5% everyone is smoking opium. Period. You may not know it, but you are. I willingly obliged the call of the old alma mater, and after becoming thoroughly chilled, we somehow made it to J-rad's house, who I had told I'd be visiting hours ago while at the concert. Beirut ensues, with varying success. J-rad and I rekindle our partnership. I try to bounce too much. Eventually everyone has to leave. I think the idea of class the next day started to get to them. I'd like to say I never let it bother me until the morning, but it probably did around 2-4 a.m. on a Wednesday. J-rad informs me of his extra bed, which after giddiness, bacon, and Entourage, I crawl into.

There's more to come later. Including the good part.