College Age Antics - Post Yours

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.
Our RA called a mandatory meeting in the dorm lobby one night because there was reports of drinking and parties in the rooms. I had a mixed drink in a cup during the meeting. I never did get caught drinking in the dorms even though I never had an empty fridge.
 
One spring day, after a long brutal winter, Bon, Vinnie, and I decided to drink a lot of beer on the sunny south facing front porch, since we didn't have any classes that afternoon. Bon was nicknamed after Bon Scott, since his last name was Scott, and he had been found multiple times, passed out face down in his puke. Vinnie was Vince's nickname. Vince has been out west hunting with me a couple times, the first elk he ever saw, a small bull, he shot. My nickname was Roy, after Judge Roy Bean. So we drank beer all afternoon, and some point I had to do a few things, being that I was the house manager. My brother was also in the fraternity and started drinking after getting back from classes. His nickname was The Dean, short for the Dean of Women. He had a lot of girl friends in college!

So at some point a newspaper reporter comes by and starts taking photos of them drinking beer in the sun on the front porch.

Next morning Bon, Vinnie, and the Dean are on the front page of the Wisconsin State Journal. I was thinking, damn, that should have been me as well! Back home, mom and dad took a lot of ribbing from their friends and co-workers when they saw the newspaper.
 
It was a Thursday, late morning, the first week of classes my freshman year. I was 23 years old. I was alone on a jobsite putting tools away so I could make it to my afternoon classes. My wife (married almost 2 years at this point) calls me telling me she's in labor. I finish putting the tools in the job box and lock up. I head home and we eat lunch together and then proceed to the hospital as the contractions are getting closer together. One hour after arriving at the hospital our first son is born. I'm back at work and classes on Monday. Crazy weekend.
 
One time we threw all our furniture we didn’t want to take with us in the middle of a busy street the week before we had to move out our apartment.

I did so much dumb shit man. Never really criminal but very mischievous.
 
I can't tell a story to save my life which is unfortunate because I have some excellent life experiences.

A friend and I decided senior year that we were going to drink scotch straight from a mason jar during geology class. It was a pretty small class and we didn't try to hide it. Everyone thought it was apple juice even though we were honest when asked. Instructor never said a word. Not sure if he thought we were bluffing or if he just didn't give a shit.

My school was pretty small and the people that had fun after the school day tended to all meet each other and get to know each other after the first semester each year. Towards the end of the year my three roommates and I went to a house party at a friend of a friend's house. We didn't know the person that lived there and only ended up knowing a couple people there. We got split up shortly after arrival and some gal i had never met came up to me to explain her intentions for the night. The words that came out of her mouth were words I never expected to hear and have never heard since: "I want to snakebite your @#)(#." As you can imagine, I was certain I had misheard her and kindly asked her "What?" As I turned to look at my roommate next to me with a "WTF" look on my face. She repeated herself and provided some helpful sign language with her hands in an opposing twisting motion to help my mostly sober mind better understand her intentions. Without responding to her I turned to my roommate to inform him "we're leaving, now." We immediately removed ourselves from that harrowing situation and started searching the house for the other roommates. This house was big and had a terrible layout so we were struggling to find our people. We finally found Nick, the person that convinced us to check the party out in the first place. Being concerned for my own wellbeing and terrified that my new suitor would find me before I could escape, I interrupted the conversation to ask if our friend had "seen big Gay?" Big Gay was what we called one roommate on account of his above average stature and his last name. I hear from behind me someone ask "did someone say big dick?" Guess who slides up to my side at this point? I respond the only way I knew how, to say "no" to the gal, tell Nick to find our roommates and tell them we left, and leave with my roommate that is absolutely dying at this point.

Thank god she didn't follow us when we left. Our roommates caught up to us shortly after and had a good laugh when we filled them in on what they missed. I feel bad for whoever ended up getting the snakebite that night as I have little doubt it happened to someone. Tenacity in a task usually gets results.
 
My first day of college.

Parents are dropping me off and we’re moving boxes into the coed dorm. Men on one floor, women in the other. A little explanation of the university. 57% women, 43% men due to the teacher college. Target rich environment.

After a few trips I’m at the truck by myself. I hear Hey Bry! Why didn’t you call me! I turn and see redhead Stacey in the parking lot. We met during the summer at a kegger at a farm. She had written her number on my hand but it smeared that night. Never tried to find her.

We chat a little and both move boxes. We one or two line chat as we pass each other and agree to hang out that night.

After the room is set up, my roommate I went to HS with, and our parents are all standing to say goodbye. As we’re almost done saying we were going to hang out quiet that night, Stacey sticks her head in the room.

Hey Bry! We’re going on a beer run. Need us to grab anything for tonight for you?

The room looks at me. Roommate asks me what’s happening. Under my breath I tell him I made plans for us and woman tonight. I look up and both fathers have big smiles looking at me. I’m getting stink eyes from the mothers.

We started college that night getting drunk and laughing with older women. Stacey eventually became the crazy Probation girl I dated off and on for too long. Last time I saw her in college was two years later when she tried to hit me with her car as a joke in front of the frat house as I walked. I had to dive in the parking lot to avoid getting hit. She laughed as she went bye saying Hey Bry! and zoomed away.
 
I can't tell a story to save my life which is unfortunate because I have some excellent life experiences.

A friend and I decided senior year that we were going to drink scotch straight from a mason jar during geology class. It was a pretty small class and we didn't try to hide it. Everyone thought it was apple juice even though we were honest when asked. Instructor never said a word. Not sure if he thought we were bluffing or if he just didn't give a shit.

My school was pretty small and the people that had fun after the school day tended to all meet each other and get to know each other after the first semester each year. Towards the end of the year my three roommates and I went to a house party at a friend of a friend's house. We didn't know the person that lived there and only ended up knowing a couple people there. We got split up shortly after arrival and some gal i had never met came up to me to explain her intentions for the night. The words that came out of her mouth were words I never expected to hear and have never heard since: "I want to snakebite your @#)(#." As you can imagine, I was certain I had misheard her and kindly asked her "What?" As I turned to look at my roommate next to me with a "WTF" look on my face. She repeated herself and provided some helpful sign language with her hands in an opposing twisting motion to help my mostly sober mind better understand her intentions. Without responding to her I turned to my roommate to inform him "we're leaving, now." We immediately removed ourselves from that harrowing situation and started searching the house for the other roommates. This house was big and had a terrible layout so we were struggling to find our people. We finally found Nick, the person that convinced us to check the party out in the first place. Being concerned for my own wellbeing and terrified that my new suitor would find me before I could escape, I interrupted the conversation to ask if our friend had "seen big Gay?" Big Gay was what we called one roommate on account of his above average stature and his last name. I hear from behind me someone ask "did someone say big dick?" Guess who slides up to my side at this point? I respond the only way I knew how, to say "no" to the gal, tell Nick to find our roommates and tell them we left, and leave with my roommate that is absolutely dying at this point.

Thank god she didn't follow us when we left. Our roommates caught up to us shortly after and had a good laugh when we filled them in on what they missed. I feel bad for whoever ended up getting the snakebite that night as I have little doubt it happened to someone. Tenacity in a task usually gets results.
At first I thought you meant you were leaving with the girl. It could have been an even better story.
 
One fall semester they filmed Back to School on campus. We decided to have a Rodney Dangerfield party. A couple little sisters approached Rodney on the set and ask him if he would like to come to our party in honor of him. His deadpan response was "paaty, what's a paaty?" We had the party, but Rodney was a no show.
 
Around about the age of 18...10 of us decided to go to a state park on the top of a local range and drink beer. Pretty rural. All hanging out, bs-ing, when another friend drives in hot and does a few high speed grodies...right when a state trooper is passing by. Then another trooper appears and the two of them swoop in. Guys jumping in cars, stuffing beer bottles under seats, stowing " other" stuff. Troopers find most of it.
So they make us stand in a row. Head honcho was a black guy, 5'10", 225lbs. Trooper Gibbons. He is yelling at us like a drill sargent, laughing about how he just came back from vacation and was itching for a bust. Couple kids were being smart, which really got Gibbons more hot.
I had to piss really bad. Just like a recruit..." Trooper Gibbons, permission to take a leak?" Permission granted.
Then the individual interrogation. I might have mentioned my step-father was a local lawyer, who had a reputation as being salty.
Paddy wagon showed up and 8 out of ten hauled to jail. I was one of the lucky ones. No idea why...not enough seats? I told my step father the story latter on, apparantly he knew Gibbons quite well.😁
Better to be lucky.
 
Somehow I missed witnessing this funny story. We had a once a year dinner function at the Essen Haus. It's still around, good German food and beer. On the way back, a bunch of the guys decided to stop at a bar. A couple of the guys knew it was a gay bar, most of the guys were clueless. One of the guys, Weiner Buck, bellied up to the bar and start drinking beer. He was one of those guys that talks real loud and you can hear him, even in a crowd. He started talking to the guy seated next to him about tractors and other farm equipment. Weiner Buck's new friend must have propositioned him, cause he suddenly jumped up, and ran out of the bar screaming "this is a $*)Q!#@$ gay bar. I'm out of here!"

The rest of the guys laughed their asses off.
 
One of the weird perks of living in a frat house is you can always find someone to go out for drinks with you. One semester we had a guy with a busy schedule. Only time he could get drunk was noon to six on a Wednesday. He’d sleep it off and go back to normal life Thursday morning. He’d always found a guy or two to go with him. I never did.

I got asked one week night to go to one of the bars to try the punch drink it served. I had around 8 shots in it. Advertised that no way anyone could drink more than one. I was studying and quick mental math decided I could tag along. There were about 5 of us.

We get the drink, drink it and feel nothing. We grumble a little bit about the drink. Someone suggests another and we all agree.

We all woke up the next morning not knowing what happened that night. 5 guys blackout drunk. I remembered the most. One guy remembered nothing including the drinks, one remembered puking outside the bar (I didn’t remember that) and there’s various stages of we only walked back to the house.

However, I remember we went to another bar. My last memory is sitting at a pizza style booth with girls I know on both sides with my arms slung over each girl and one of the guys sitting opposite me. We had a bucket of beer we were drinking. Next memory was waking up hungover.

I bounced into the girls later. They said all of our group was plastered. They had lots of good jokes of stupid stuff we slur talked about that night to them.

We decided to never try the drink again.
 
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A post to laugh at a considering some of the threads.

I went to Marine OCS two college summers. I’m acting sometimes in the rationale of a 20-21 year old.

This particular day we’re rappelling down a sand cliff/hill and running 3+ miles carrying a rifle. The rappelling is more of a bunny hop down the hill, no safety gear although a guy broke his neck in another group one of my summers. Bad luck.

It had rained the night before and everything was sticky wet. There’s a few hundred of us lined up to go over the edge and start the exercise. I’m in the middle of the group. I’ve done the course a few times.

I drop off for my turn and about halfway down I loose my footing on the churned up, wet sand, spin backwards and slide down the hill on the rope head first. I’m a sandy mess at the bottom. As I hit the end of the rope, I spin and run off into the woods for the run. I can hear the sergeants on top yelling at me to climb back up and rappel again. No thank you. I’m blended in the mob and they can’t tell who I am.

I knock most of the sand off me and my rifle. I notice the end of my barrel has sand in it from being inverted during my slide. I wipe it off and notice more. I start banging the barrel against trees as I run by them trying to get sand out. It’s a never ending flow of sand. Knock some out, more appears.

I finish the run and get into formation with my company. I notice the sergeants in a huddle talking and then they all go to the different companies running from candidate to candidate inspecting about 300 of us.

Sergeants are bull dogging around when one comes to me. He’s asking me questions and I’m giving yes and no answers that are technically true based on the question. He can’t find anything on me but grabs my rifle at his last chance. He sees sand. He screams found him. I’m told to go in front of the formation and I have about six sergeants going crazy yelling at me. I knew they couldn’t touch me but could yell all they wanted.

After a good chewing out, I was made to run around the battalion on the way back to the barracks repeating the This Is my Rifle saying for about a mile.
IMG_4861.jpeg

I cleaned my rifle quickly when we got back to the barracks. They never mentioned it again. I graduated that summer so my pluses must be at least one more than my minus column.
 
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This one's on the mild end of my college shenanigans but one of the prior ones reminded me. Bridger Brewing was close enough to campus to be a pretty regular stop by the time super-senior year rolled around. Bozeman was getting so damn busy that coffee shops and MSU's library were pretty crowded to study at, but Bridger in the early afternoon usually had plenty of tables (and delicious beer and pizza). In the spring they had Roosevelt Red (may it RIP - I think they still have a beer by that name but changed the recipe due to a lawsuit) that remains the best beer I've ever had. So one day, I went to Bridger for lunch and my legally allotted 3 Roosevelt Reds prior to senior design. Went in with a pretty nice buzz and spent the whole class telling my buddy how good Roosevelt Red was, and at the end of class he was like "well, why don't we go get some?" It was a 2-3 hour class so I figured there was a pretty good chance there'd be a new rotation of staff and I could sneak by with a few more. We walked in and I wasn't seeing anybody from earlier, we sit down, and wouldn't you know it, up walks the same waitress who had served me three Reds with lunch. "You again" she says, and I respond, "what? I've never been here before in my life." "Oh, welcome to Bridger Brewing. Roosevelt Red?" she replied. "Yep" and I had three more.
 
Post your college age antics. I have a bunch and will enter mingle stories in posts. I went to Midwest state college my blue collar parents could cash flow. I lived a frat life living in the house intermingled with sorority girls and an officer contract with the Marines. It was close to Animal House at times.

First story. I have funnier stories but I’ll try to keep them sorta date oriented.



I paid, both of us laughed and he never mentioned again

@brymoore Were you part of the "Tribe from the North Brave and Bold?"


I was pretty reserved when it came to alcohol during my time in college. I will admit....I'd rather get laid than drunk for most of my time there. That got me married the winter before my senior year. I never realized how much of a hurry I was in to "grow up". Were I to do it again just to see how it would turn out, I might have gone to grad school and stayed single.
 

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