Never belong to any club that will have you.
G. Marx
Chapter 43, The Wisdom of the Proletariat and the Desire of a Cheap Cigar
College Age Antics - Post Yours
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Never belong to any club that will have you.
G. Marx
Chapter 43, The Wisdom of the Proletariat and the Desire of a Cheap Cigar
Hem
Well-known member
Antics gone bad...judgement clouded by a variety of substances prompted my step brother to treat the balcony handrail as a balance beam.
He's been gone now 34 years.
My youth is bookmarked with stupidity.
But there sure were some good times.
Let's lighten to mood a bit here..
First weekend back to college after a summer of working at home. All the college buddies back together and still underage (you could smell trouble in the air). As we were still 20, we proceeded to a house party where underage drinking was highly encouraged and celebrated. The party started to get pretty busy to the point it was sure to attract the attention of the neighbors and soon after, local law enforcement. My buddy's younger brother had recently moved to town to attend the same college. He was obnoxiously drunk and attempting to get behind the wheel of a vehicle. Three of us stood outside the party on the curb, and successfully removed his keys from the vehicle. During our next attempt to physically remove the attempted driver from the vehicle, a literal SWAT van pulled up to block the driveway, slamming to a stop directly behind the vehicle we were standing at. Six uniformed police officers jumped out of the sides of the van announcing themselves with a command of "DO NOT MOVE." The attempted driver squeezed himself into the floorboard of the passenger seat and played dead, it was his only defense. My two roommates, who were at the moment, only guilty of minor in consumption, froze like deer in the headlights. I on the other hand, being in full non-compliance of both minor in consumption and possession laws, and in peak physical condition after working a summer of construction, decided fairly quickly to make a run through the cool August night. In one swift moved, I launched a can of Coors Light through the orange hue of the streetlights and sped off like a silver bullet. Two police officers quickly gave chase. All I could hear was the sound of rushing wind, jangling handcuffs, and my heart beat. As I later proclaimed to a judge, I was moving too fast at that point to recall hearing any additional verbal commands from my pursuers. In short order, the pinging sound of bouncing handcuffs subsided, and the wind in my ears died from a roar to a more manageable level. I could at least hear myself think and plan my next move. Another college friend lived just about a mile away and I had just helped him move into the house earlier that day. Garage code fresh in my mind, I decided the moldy couch I carried into the garage that morning would be more than sufficient for a place to hole up while the heat died down.
About a half-mile into the journey, I hit my first familiar landmark. Shady Oaks Trailer Park. I was still slightly winded and panicked and decided the trailer park would at least give me enough cover to pass through another 300-400 yards in concealment and let me catch my breath. Halfway through the trailer park, after tripping over decrepit tonka trucks and piles of old tires, I was ambushed by a another squad car and spotlight. Having fully recovered from my first 50-second quarter mile sprint, my brain and body hit peak RPMs again. I'm still not sure if the smell of burning rubber was the squad car, a trash fire, or the soles of my shoes. In this mad scramble, I somehow found myself sprinting up a long wooden ramp, which I quickly realized was a wheel-chair accessible single wide and that it was currently occupied by a grizzled man and a carton of cigarettes. Again I was moving to fast too hear what was said, but from the tone in his voice, I could tell he wasn't pleased with a surprise visitor to his nightly smoke out.
After leaping over the railing and escaping the angry porch troll, up ahead, I could see a well lit road that I recognized as the safe boundary from Shady Oaks. I leapt over the chain link fence with the grace of a whitetail and continued my pace across the road. To my astonishment, there were two more squad cars approaching from both the north and south. I heard their engines rev as they attempted to close the distance. In front of me was a wide open field, soon to be developed, but still overgrown with waist high weeds and cattails. On the other side of this field was a friendly garage and couch, so I dug deep and found full speed again. My lungs begged me to stop, but my lizard brain fueled me with enough adrenaline to carry me through.
Spotlights burned on my back from the squad cars stopped along the paved road, as I heard them calling over the radios for reinforcements to continue their pursuit. At full speed and a smile on my face, I knew I was almost free. Just then, the ground fell out from under me, although my legs continued to pump. A well concealed drainage ditch six feet wide and four feet deep knocked out what little bit of wind was left in my lungs. Spotlights crisscrossed the weeds along the edge of the ditch, and I was confident I was no longer visible from the street. I channeled my inner Andy Dufresne, and began my freedom crawl from Shawshank. I knew up ahead this ditch drained into the large creek traversing the city. From there, I could follow the creek back to my own home. I continued my crawl through the mud and city runoff water until I heard the sound of the first pursuer I knew I could not defeat through shear will. The soft "womp, womp, womp," of rotor blades grew nearer and nearer, but I knew there was still time. In my best impression of Dutch being pursued by the Predator, I covered up what parts of my buddy that were not already caked with thick mud. I laid motionless as the thermal vision equipped chopper circled overhead. After what felt like a lifetime, and a back and forth in my head of giving myself up, I heard a sound from a beast who's drive surely would best my own. The sound of rustling grass and sniffing meant the K-9 was close. In that moment, all remaining fight or flight response vanished. I quickly stood up, hands raised high, and yelled "don't let that dog bite me."
Chuckles and laughs were passed around by all parties. Local police, Sheriff's deputies, state police over helicopter radio, as I heard the clicking and pressure on my wrists that ensured my capture and defeat.
True story. Good times. Law enforcement was all pretty nice to me after I was detained. I think they enjoyed it a little too. The $400 fine and 20 hours of community service was well worth the story I get to tell as an older and slightly wiser man.
First weekend back to college after a summer of working at home. All the college buddies back together and still underage (you could smell trouble in the air). As we were still 20, we proceeded to a house party where underage drinking was highly encouraged and celebrated. The party started to get pretty busy to the point it was sure to attract the attention of the neighbors and soon after, local law enforcement. My buddy's younger brother had recently moved to town to attend the same college. He was obnoxiously drunk and attempting to get behind the wheel of a vehicle. Three of us stood outside the party on the curb, and successfully removed his keys from the vehicle. During our next attempt to physically remove the attempted driver from the vehicle, a literal SWAT van pulled up to block the driveway, slamming to a stop directly behind the vehicle we were standing at. Six uniformed police officers jumped out of the sides of the van announcing themselves with a command of "DO NOT MOVE." The attempted driver squeezed himself into the floorboard of the passenger seat and played dead, it was his only defense. My two roommates, who were at the moment, only guilty of minor in consumption, froze like deer in the headlights. I on the other hand, being in full non-compliance of both minor in consumption and possession laws, and in peak physical condition after working a summer of construction, decided fairly quickly to make a run through the cool August night. In one swift moved, I launched a can of Coors Light through the orange hue of the streetlights and sped off like a silver bullet. Two police officers quickly gave chase. All I could hear was the sound of rushing wind, jangling handcuffs, and my heart beat. As I later proclaimed to a judge, I was moving too fast at that point to recall hearing any additional verbal commands from my pursuers. In short order, the pinging sound of bouncing handcuffs subsided, and the wind in my ears died from a roar to a more manageable level. I could at least hear myself think and plan my next move. Another college friend lived just about a mile away and I had just helped him move into the house earlier that day. Garage code fresh in my mind, I decided the moldy couch I carried into the garage that morning would be more than sufficient for a place to hole up while the heat died down.
About a half-mile into the journey, I hit my first familiar landmark. Shady Oaks Trailer Park. I was still slightly winded and panicked and decided the trailer park would at least give me enough cover to pass through another 300-400 yards in concealment and let me catch my breath. Halfway through the trailer park, after tripping over decrepit tonka trucks and piles of old tires, I was ambushed by a another squad car and spotlight. Having fully recovered from my first 50-second quarter mile sprint, my brain and body hit peak RPMs again. I'm still not sure if the smell of burning rubber was the squad car, a trash fire, or the soles of my shoes. In this mad scramble, I somehow found myself sprinting up a long wooden ramp, which I quickly realized was a wheel-chair accessible single wide and that it was currently occupied by a grizzled man and a carton of cigarettes. Again I was moving to fast too hear what was said, but from the tone in his voice, I could tell he wasn't pleased with a surprise visitor to his nightly smoke out.
After leaping over the railing and escaping the angry porch troll, up ahead, I could see a well lit road that I recognized as the safe boundary from Shady Oaks. I leapt over the chain link fence with the grace of a whitetail and continued my pace across the road. To my astonishment, there were two more squad cars approaching from both the north and south. I heard their engines rev as they attempted to close the distance. In front of me was a wide open field, soon to be developed, but still overgrown with waist high weeds and cattails. On the other side of this field was a friendly garage and couch, so I dug deep and found full speed again. My lungs begged me to stop, but my lizard brain fueled me with enough adrenaline to carry me through.
Spotlights burned on my back from the squad cars stopped along the paved road, as I heard them calling over the radios for reinforcements to continue their pursuit. At full speed and a smile on my face, I knew I was almost free. Just then, the ground fell out from under me, although my legs continued to pump. A well concealed drainage ditch six feet wide and four feet deep knocked out what little bit of wind was left in my lungs. Spotlights crisscrossed the weeds along the edge of the ditch, and I was confident I was no longer visible from the street. I channeled my inner Andy Dufresne, and began my freedom crawl from Shawshank. I knew up ahead this ditch drained into the large creek traversing the city. From there, I could follow the creek back to my own home. I continued my crawl through the mud and city runoff water until I heard the sound of the first pursuer I knew I could not defeat through shear will. The soft "womp, womp, womp," of rotor blades grew nearer and nearer, but I knew there was still time. In my best impression of Dutch being pursued by the Predator, I covered up what parts of my buddy that were not already caked with thick mud. I laid motionless as the thermal vision equipped chopper circled overhead. After what felt like a lifetime, and a back and forth in my head of giving myself up, I heard a sound from a beast who's drive surely would best my own. The sound of rustling grass and sniffing meant the K-9 was close. In that moment, all remaining fight or flight response vanished. I quickly stood up, hands raised high, and yelled "don't let that dog bite me."
Chuckles and laughs were passed around by all parties. Local police, Sheriff's deputies, state police over helicopter radio, as I heard the clicking and pressure on my wrists that ensured my capture and defeat.
True story. Good times. Law enforcement was all pretty nice to me after I was detained. I think they enjoyed it a little too. The $400 fine and 20 hours of community service was well worth the story I get to tell as an older and slightly wiser man.
Hem
Well-known member
Thats a good one. They must have been pretty bored.
If ever I needed a beating it was outrunning cops but doubling back to egg their car.
The weekend before classes started back up again. All the college kids back in town, but nothing to do until Monday. I confirmed with local police after the fact they specifically have state police helicopter assistance that Saturday night to help spot big house parties around the city. So yes, they get pretty bored those three months where 40,000 people who committed a lot of the crime left town.Thats a good one. They must have been pretty bored.
If ever I needed a beating it was outrunning cops but doubling back to egg their car.
Sophomore year I’m walking to the bars with a group of buddies. Underage drinking in bars was easy. We get to a bar line and there’s a group of guys squaring off like the Westside story. One of the sides is my fraternity against one that’s been difficult the past month.
I’m about to go over for the dance routine when I hear HEY BRY! I turn and see the Probation girl. We had a tumultuous previous relationship and agreed to never date again. She tells her friends she’ll catch up and walks up to talk with me. Listening to her I know exactly what she wants.
I’m looking to my left at the fight about to start and chatting up Probation on my right. I see one of my calm fraternity brothers come out of no where full speed run and knocks a guy down. Fight breaks out. I’m looking for a guy to hit but everyone around me has several guys on him. As quick as it starts someone yells cops and we all run away in different directions to save ourselves. No one was caught. I run a few blocks and hide behind some bushes see if the close was clear. It was. I hear someone behind me panting. I look and see Probation. She smiles and asks if I want to go to my room. I smile and say sure. Technically, we weren’t going to date.
I’m about to go over for the dance routine when I hear HEY BRY! I turn and see the Probation girl. We had a tumultuous previous relationship and agreed to never date again. She tells her friends she’ll catch up and walks up to talk with me. Listening to her I know exactly what she wants.
I’m looking to my left at the fight about to start and chatting up Probation on my right. I see one of my calm fraternity brothers come out of no where full speed run and knocks a guy down. Fight breaks out. I’m looking for a guy to hit but everyone around me has several guys on him. As quick as it starts someone yells cops and we all run away in different directions to save ourselves. No one was caught. I run a few blocks and hide behind some bushes see if the close was clear. It was. I hear someone behind me panting. I look and see Probation. She smiles and asks if I want to go to my room. I smile and say sure. Technically, we weren’t going to date.
Dougfirtree
Well-known member
Boredom can be a dangerous thing. This was during college years but didn't have anything to do with my learing. A friend and I walked across this pipeline over the Red River, at night, after a few beers. Then climbed the tower on the left. There was a full moon so that helped. That was probably not even the dumbest thing we did, I'm lucky to be alive.
Gellar
Well-known member
This made me recall a time another wrestler and I went to visit some of his buddies at another college and we were both underage. We were told to bring Ids so we could go to the bar. I was old enough to get in the bar (20), but not drink (21), so I figured it wouldn't be a problem to get drinks once I was in the bar. My buddy was not old enough to get in the bar with is real id so he got a fake. He had no idea who the fake id was, it was just given to him by someone else as they thought the picture resembled my buddy close enough to gain entry into a bar. when we get to one of the bars we waited in line to get in and my buddy hands the bouncer his id without really looking at the bouncer. The bouncer is like really? You are really going to use this ID? Low and behold the ID my buddy had obtained was actually this bouncer. He let us in, but took the ID.
My last final I took was at the Bar. It was for a business class. The professor said that more business deals are done at the bar during happy hour than in the office so our final would be at the bar.
Post football game, downtown bars, early twenties (legal age this time). Two buddies, one of their girlfriends, and I make our way through the packed bar and belly up on some stools. Next to us is an intoxicated man 10 years our senior. He makes some comments about saving the seats for his friends and is unhappy we beat them to the stools. Mind you there are 300 people in this bar all trying to find somewhere to sit, we just happened to be the first ones to sit by this specific a-hole. To smooth things over, our buddy with the girlfriend offers to buy him a shot. The four friends and a stranger proceed to take a shot, and then without saying a word, the inebriated 30-year old reaches out and grabs my buddy's girlfriends boob. Without standing up from his barstool, my buddy delivers a jab square on the guys chin. Barstool and drunk man clatter to the floor. This instantly attracts the attention of the bouncers at the front entrance and they head our way. My buddy's girlfriend starts pushing him towards the back door and they make a clean escape. Before the bouncers make it through the crowd, the drunk guys buddies show up to find their barstools, but instead find their friend unconscious on the floor, bleeding from the mouth. Myself and the one remaining friend look at the group of three older guys (one of which could have just come off the playing field down the street). At this point, we haven't spoken a word to each other since the guy hit the ground. Waiting for a good a$$ kicking, we are saved by the female bartender who saw the whole thing and explained to the man's friends what happened. They all looked down at him, looked back up at us still sitting in silent shock, and shrugged their shoulders. Bouncers finally get there, hear the whole story, and drag the guy out face-down by his armpits. We quickly followed in the wake of the bouncers to make it through the crowd to the front door. Once we were out on the street, we had to duck into an alley because we were about to piss ourselves from laughter. The whole event transpired and between the shock, the fear, then laughter, we couldn't speak until we'd relieved ourselves. They are still close friends of mine and the two ended up getting married. We still laugh ourselves to tears when we talk about it.
El Jason
Well-known member
@smw110136 you would have made a most excellent WSU Coug.
Kaitum
Well-known member
Early morning shenanigans. Take one dorm bathroom 30 gallon garbage can. Remove garbage bag. Fill can 2/3 full of water in the shower. Roll it down the hall. Lean it against the room door of your best buddy. Knock on door loudly. Run.
It was easier for me to buy when I was 16, legal 19, than at 21.
16 we just drive two towns over to a dying store that was happy for business. No ID required.
20 I’d use a real ID of a friend. Our favorite bar had two entrance doors. We were very similar, same hair color, eyes and build. Two Tims would walk in different doors and meet in the middle.
El Jason
Well-known member
I was using my older brother’s ID and the bouncer called me on it. I grabbed it out of his hands and ran.
Once snuck two cases of keystone light into the dorms in a buddies winter coat. We wrapped cans around his body with cellophane and stuck what was left down his sleeves. He looked like Randy from a Christmas Story walking through the front entrance passed the late night security. They didn't say a word. They had too much respected for the game.
One night I’m happily drinking beer and chatting with girlfriend J. There’s a couple standing across from us arguing. He starts pushing her around which catches my attention. I’m starting to yell at him when he punches her in the face. I instinctively round house him.
Other people saw him punch her and jump in to beat on him. I’m pushed to the ground in the melee. I end up on the bottom of a scrum pile. I can’t move, I’m not hit. Eventually the pile is pulled apart. I hear a bouncer say These Two and two bouncers grab me by my arms and drag me out. I protest the whole drag but they don’t care. They toss me good out into the ally. I get up trying to figure out how to get back in when J walks out the door and happily suggests we try another bar.
Other people saw him punch her and jump in to beat on him. I’m pushed to the ground in the melee. I end up on the bottom of a scrum pile. I can’t move, I’m not hit. Eventually the pile is pulled apart. I hear a bouncer say These Two and two bouncers grab me by my arms and drag me out. I protest the whole drag but they don’t care. They toss me good out into the ally. I get up trying to figure out how to get back in when J walks out the door and happily suggests we try another bar.
TX Trophy Hunter
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You pervert!
jpc01101
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This is a solid rager/story. Thanks for sharing!
CRJR45
Well-known member
No college here , quit school on Thursday and was on the line at Chevrolet Monday . I could tell tales for days , I had the knack for trouble . My friend Howard and I , well I but he rode there with me , were thrown out of a bar called The Light , so we went to my place and proceeded to party . I had two Klispch Cornwall speakers and I was blasting Frank Zappa Bobby Brown to loud for my neighbors , so they called the cops .
When the boys arrived i was standing in my door with a Ricochet Reaper toy gun , it just made the sound of a shot . Well dumbass me thought it be funny to shoot at the LEO's , so I did . They didn't think it was funny at all , can you believe it ?
A argument ensued where I proceeded to make an even bigger ass of myself , I pay your salary , blah , blah . The lead cop starts to lecture me , got right in my face and started poking me in the chest , so I pushed his hand to deflect it , and that was it .
Turn around your under arrest' he says .
For what ?
Assaulting an officer , when you impeded the motion of my hand that constitutes assault , now turn around .
Assault , says dumbass me , then I turn to look at Howard sitting on my couch and give him a wink , turn back to the officer and hit him with a left right on the chin , dazed him bad .
That's assault I said , and the other cop starts reaching for his billy club and I smacked him also . It was on for a hot minute , my room mate comes out with a base ball bat , takes in the scene , and asks Howard "Whats going on "
Howard replies , "Bob going to jail "
Matt goes back to bed , I go to jail .
When the boys arrived i was standing in my door with a Ricochet Reaper toy gun , it just made the sound of a shot . Well dumbass me thought it be funny to shoot at the LEO's , so I did . They didn't think it was funny at all , can you believe it ?
A argument ensued where I proceeded to make an even bigger ass of myself , I pay your salary , blah , blah . The lead cop starts to lecture me , got right in my face and started poking me in the chest , so I pushed his hand to deflect it , and that was it .
Turn around your under arrest' he says .
For what ?
Assaulting an officer , when you impeded the motion of my hand that constitutes assault , now turn around .
Assault , says dumbass me , then I turn to look at Howard sitting on my couch and give him a wink , turn back to the officer and hit him with a left right on the chin , dazed him bad .
That's assault I said , and the other cop starts reaching for his billy club and I smacked him also . It was on for a hot minute , my room mate comes out with a base ball bat , takes in the scene , and asks Howard "Whats going on "
Howard replies , "Bob going to jail "
Matt goes back to bed , I go to jail .
Gellar
Well-known member
Not a drinking story, but a hunting related story from College. One fall day it was nasty out and I shot my 6 ducks pretty easily, but I wanted to clean my gun. I had just been keeping it in a locked gun case under the seat of my truck (in hindsight not smart, but the only option at the time). So to clean it I was going to take it apart, carry it in a suitcase to my room and clean it. The security guard saw me fumbling around in my truck and approached probably thinking I was stealing something. I told him the story and even had the ducks laying on the tailgate. He asked if I was planning on bringing the firearm inside to which I lied and told him no even though I damn well intended to. 25 years later I wonder why they didnt come to my room and check later (they would have found it in my closet) or even ask for more information and my ID. I must have told a good story to the security guard.
The others in the dorm sure flocked when it was time to grill duck breast poppers before a football game.
The others in the dorm sure flocked when it was time to grill duck breast poppers before a football game.
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