Of Folly And Of Vice

The Superbowl Party
April 16, 2009, 10:24 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Wayne and his roommate, Tex, lived on the second floor of our dorm, which was technically the third floor. Their room was at the end of the hall, directly across from the bathroom, which was probably the worst location on the floor, apart from the guys who lived across the hall, next to the bathroom.

The second floor was a unique combination of people in as much as it was also home to several other residents that were student athletes and a couple. The other floors were pretty exclusively us and our roommates. These student athletes were simultaneously terrifying and fascinating. Terrifying because a few of them were gigantic and unfriendly. Fascinating because they weren’t dorky, pre-journalism major white kids from the suburbs like us. As for the couple, well, they were one of us. We called them “The Wegmanns” and they were alright by us, although they were pretty much as married as two 18 year olds playing house in the dorms could be.

The Wegmanns did not come to the Superbowl Party that Wayne and Tex hosted, which was considered somewhat unforgivable. About as unforgivable as spilling the last beer or getting up before your roommate on a Saturday.

Regardless, we watched the Ravens and the Giants on the 13-inch TV on top of the dorm fridge and drank. And drank. And then took a break and drank some more. Later, we watched the half-time show that Lewis Black would eventually call the Trifecta From Hell.

At one point, I left the party briefly and retired to my room on the third floor. I probably left to throw up in my floor’s bathroom.

When I ventured back downstairs to Wayne and Tex’s, I could hear “American Pie” from the landing. And the shouting.

I knew they were never going to be able to hear me knocking –  Wayne, Tex, Pea, Lou, Ryan, Rob and whoever else was barracaded in the room. But I started knocking anyway in the hopes that someone would answer.

Rob answered the door wearing the bucket from the fall semester finals care package on his head.

“No sluts!” He shouted and slammed the door again in my face.

The door of the room next ot theirs creaked open and one of the giant football players peeked his head out. I nearly crapped myself. We called the room next door to Wayne and Tex “The Dick Sweat Room” and it was home to two football players, one of whom was huge and now, not happy.

I knocked again. “Let me in! Now!”

The door flew open and the sound flew out. American Pie is a song that never, ever ends. I ran into it. It was hot in the room and Lou was solitary moshing to the music.

Rob had the bucket on his head and upon further inspection I realized he had written “Drunk Bucket” on it. When I asked about that, he turned it around to show me that also, with the letters upside-down, there was a capital N and W. He had made them to then read “No Water”.

Tex was shouting out of the window when the screen broke. Wayne tried to put it back in order, but it remained defiant. Their window screen would stay at a 90 degreee angle, resting against the air conditioner until finally crashing to its end, months later.

It was a good party. The Dick Sweat Room wasn’t happy, but I was laughing.


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