Yeah... at the time we were - but we had one helluva lotta fun..
Animal House - The "reality" series. Circa mid-1970's, Billy Jewell College. Four fraternities on campus. The fags (sorry guys)with the pretty cars mom & dad bought for them.. the Eastern/St. Louie guys... The goody two-shoes.. and us, the Sigma Nu's...
The Sigma Nu's were a great/rotten bunch of guys... We were, completely immature. But ---- we had a fantastic bond. Moreso than any athletic team I'd ever played upon.. Damn near family. Virtually everyone was a jock - but with a little stoner/wildchild thrown in..
The Pledge. Lower than white whale shit at the deepest part of the ocean we were(or so they said.) There was rush... pledging.. then the transitionary period between pledge and active: Hell Week.
Yes.. on campus's throughout the land there were casualties to hazing - but our hazing was brutally fun, tremendously brothern enriching, and yes, pure hell.
One week, 24/7. First, we got to swing by the local Co-op to purchase our very own burlap sack... Holes cut for sleeves.. this was to be our 'undergarmet' for the week. That and a jock strap during the 'fun' evening hours of 7pm to 10pm.. We sly ones learned the ole handed down "wash the burlap sack in Downy and it won't be as irritating" so we did.
Another 'fixture' to our week was a string and a pencil. Attached to one end of the string was to be your penis.. and the string was to be fed up under your gunny sack, coming out your neckline with a maximum of 5" of string exposed. You had one week to obtain 100 female signatures. Of course the first day we went along with it.. probably got purple penis's I don't remember.. then, we got smart and insteada tying one end to the pee pee, we'd find a belt loop or buckle to tie it to. Gals would teasingly yank on the pencil as they penned their names.. reckon it hurt more the first day...
Sleep. We got the mandatory two hours of daily sleep from 5pm to 7pm nightly. Anyone caught sleeping any other hour of the week would be in big 'do-do'. We eventually would find backseats, nooks and crannies around campus to catch some Z's.. and watch each other's backs..
7pm. Shit. Time for hell. We were awoken by 40+ actives pounding skillets, pots, pans with heavy silverware.. Up we arose, clad only in our gunny sack and jock strap.
"Fun" and games... There was always an agenda... and it become more challenging as the week went along... One of the first tasks was to save a carp from the toilet stool and give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Much like the current reality show where they do such yuck things.. I guess we were Reality when Reality wasn't cool. Carp saved, patooey, next diddy on the agenda...
One night they even fed us a beer. The actives come carrying in a full case of heavenly cold bottles of Michelob.. we were licking our chops.. Turns out, the Michelob was for them.. WE got hot "Katz" beer. (The old local drugstore's own.. 10 for $1, and ours were HOT, not cold.) Patooey.
To the kitchen, one pledge at a time. You were told to stand on a folding chair - approximately 20 inches off the floor. Then you were shown a 16" string attached to a huge cinder block. Yes, another string tying thing to the penis thing.. The goal was to tie one end to the penis, hold the block in your arms - then let go of it to the ground - kissing your ass goodbye to your penis. Ok, shown the short string.. Then blindfolded - then handed the string to tie up. There we stood, one at a time on the chair - debating whether to give up our manhood for a frigging fraternity. "We all did it.. now you gotta." Shit. Ok, so.. cinder block in hands held out over the chair - the shouting began "LEGGO OF IT!!! NOWWWWW!!!!!"...
Gulp. Did let go, actually bent at my knees hoping the four inch difference would help preserve my penis - and keep it from getting snapped off. I heard the cinder block hit the floor - and my pee pee was AOK. Whatsup with that? Well.. once blindfolded, they exchanged the short string for a very long one so as your pee pee wouldn't get yanked off.. the bastards... The mental test of a lifetime..
Annuder time we were back in the kitchen.. upon the chair.. again to be blindfolded... Serenaded with broken glass in pots and pans - this challenge was to jump off of the chair into a pile of broken glass slivers... Uh huh, sure. But, if ya wanted to be a Sigma Nu, ya hadta. Yes immature, yes an extreme mental challenge, yes all ultimately fun. Ok, so.. as you stood upon the stool Stinger said "NO.. WE'RE NOT MAKING THEM DO THIS ONE... REMEMBER, LAST YEAR ROGER HAD TO GET 42 STITCHES." Shit. "YES, they ARE going to do it.. WE DID IT, and that's ALL THERE IS TO IT."
Upon the chair... "GOOOOOO!!!! JUMPPP NOWWWWWWW!!!!"..... Gulp. Jumped. The landing was terrifying.. You felt the glass.. you took off the blindfold.. you wondered if your feet would be the same ever again... there they were - covered with blood.. EXCEPT. The gag was - it was corn flakes (not glass) you landed in.. and it was intermixed with ketchup. Yes, a stupid test, but a mental/emotional challenge.
By doing all this sophomoric crap - a bond was created amongst your pledge class.. and the next year you would be the ones handing down tradition.
To many, all of the above is repulsive, childish, cruel and senseless. Sorry. To me it was priceless. Those years were some of the best years of my life. I'd do anything for those guys, and vice versa. Like truly standing up for a family member.
We made it thru the week.. and the prize was getting to enter the Active Chapter Room - an "off limits" place for us pledges... We imagined it to have golden mirrors, fancy ritzy furniture, and swank carpet. Sadly, we were about as disillusioned as ole Ralphie and his "drink more Ovaltine" decoder. It was a room with shag carpet - and the seal of Sigma Nu was painted on the ceiling. We did all that for that? Yes, yes we did.
But again... the lifelong bonds made and the passing of 'extreme' tests seemingly made you feel like you could handle anything in life. Sure the Deans woulda booted us out had they known what went on.. We loved it.. Katz Beer and all. High rickety-whoop-tee-do, what's the matter with Sig-a Ma-nu.. Terra ga who, hullabaloo, all together for Siga-Ma-Nu. Fun, fun days.
No comments:
Post a Comment