Avid Reader P.C. Writes:
I really hit a low point sophomore year. Like every other hugely regrettable night, it all started with a fraternity date party. A toga party. We pregamed for the pregame, and my dates and I were the only ones in my group to actually make it on a bus. The party was sweet, and I made it back to campus without either of my dates throwing up on the bus. Then I met up with my friends at a house across the street.
I may have been approaching blackout at the pregame, but I didn’t drink at the date party, and it was obvious my friends hadn’t slowed down. I tried to catch up with a couple games of “Don’t Drink and Drive” on Mario Kart 64. Ironic since everyone was ready to leave as soon as the race ended, and I was the idiot to offer my designated drunk driving services. So we pile fifteen deep in my friend’s Escalade, and I drop a couple girls off before heading toward the safety of my Cottage. On Chautauqua, cop lights. Damn tail light out. I claim I’m the DD like every other drunk idiot behind the wheel, but my breath and the sobriety test proved me wrong.
Cuffs, jumpsuit, drunk tank, bologna sandwich, phone call, release. Then they give me back a bag of my belongings, which consists of one tie-dye sheet. It was a toga party, so I didn’t bring my phone or wallet, and I must have lost my shoes somewhere between dancing to mashups and taking a dump in front of my two cellmates at Cleveland County Jail.
The bail bondsman forgot to tell my roommates I was released, so they weren’t there to pick me up. So I start walking, nipples out and all. The first person I see is a guy walking his dog who laughs upon seeing me and says, “I’ve made that walk before, but never in a toga.” Thanks for the encouragement.
I’m dreading the walk through Campus Corner, and take as many back allies as I can find. I keep my head down as I walk down College, passed the sorority houses where a girl yells, “Looks like the toga party was a success!” Head down, keep walking.
I’m almost back to the house I left the night before when a guy in a truck pulls over, laughing his ass off. The chaplain of my fraternity.
All my parents know about is the $3000 I’m still working to pay them back. Maybe one day I’ll give them the details about the day their son reinvented the walk of shame.