While attending my state university in the early ‘80’s, I was rushed into a fraternity within a week of the commencement of classes. That fall, I was introduced by my new brethren to the marvel of modern technology which is the “Beer Bong”.
I have since seen many of these glorious devices which have tortured untold numbers of livers and, I must say, none compare to the Ruthian conglomeration I first cut my teeth upon. The “bong” I was introduced to was a massive piece of engineering; a true man’s weapon of mass inebriation.
If Dr. Frankenstein had ever built a creation whose sole purpose was to quickly infuse alcohol into a drunken college boy, this was it!!!
It was at that staple of the fraternity scene in the late 70’s- early ‘80’s; the Toga Party that we got to know each other intimately. Dressed to the nines in my “happy cat” sheet-toga and Roman sandals, I had every intention of impressing my fraternity brothers with my party animal-ness. Matching them shot-for-shot, I was well on my way to acceptance. Then, emerged the beer bong.
Someone had the idea that, for every successful turn with this device, the imbiber was to receive a hash mark upon his/her arm with a Sharpie. As the night went on, the marks on my arm grew and the number of fellow imbibers dwindled. Before I was through, I had set the official new house record at 23 beer bongs. I basked in my newfound fame and status as the local successor to Bacchus.
Soon, I was flirting with one of my new followers pretty hot and heavy when she beckoned me “upstairs”. My God, I thought, this must be what it’s like to be a rock star!
I have since seen many of these glorious devices which have tortured untold numbers of livers and, I must say, none compare to the Ruthian conglomeration I first cut my teeth upon. The “bong” I was introduced to was a massive piece of engineering; a true man’s weapon of mass inebriation.
If Dr. Frankenstein had ever built a creation whose sole purpose was to quickly infuse alcohol into a drunken college boy, this was it!!!
It was at that staple of the fraternity scene in the late 70’s- early ‘80’s; the Toga Party that we got to know each other intimately. Dressed to the nines in my “happy cat” sheet-toga and Roman sandals, I had every intention of impressing my fraternity brothers with my party animal-ness. Matching them shot-for-shot, I was well on my way to acceptance. Then, emerged the beer bong.
Someone had the idea that, for every successful turn with this device, the imbiber was to receive a hash mark upon his/her arm with a Sharpie. As the night went on, the marks on my arm grew and the number of fellow imbibers dwindled. Before I was through, I had set the official new house record at 23 beer bongs. I basked in my newfound fame and status as the local successor to Bacchus.
Soon, I was flirting with one of my new followers pretty hot and heavy when she beckoned me “upstairs”. My God, I thought, this must be what it’s like to be a rock star!
So I took off to follow her upstairs...and I actually fell UP THE STAIRS. The pain in my knee arced its way through the fog of alcohol. Two of my fraternity brothers thought the best thing was a trip to the ER. Possessing only a rudimentary understanding of drunken first aid, they strapped two softball bats to my leg as a splint (VERY heavy and twice as painful!), and threw me unceremoniously into the backseat of a car.
Once at the emergency room, the helpful brothers explained what happened to the attending nurse (as I had at this point, the vocal capacity of a snail). What, the nurse asked, were the marks on my arm for?
Upon learning how much alcohol these Ink Badges of Courage stood for, the focus of the triage changed. My leg was secondary; they now thought it best to pump my stomach. However, fate intervened and this became unnecessary as I promptly vomited all over the x-ray machine.
Upon my return to the party, I spent the rest of the evening on a couch being fed grapes and beer nuts from lovely young ladies. This episode made a name for me at the institution and I became famous across the campus.
However, the down side is that this marked the downslide of my college career; one that only now am I attempting to revive and obtain an actual degree.
And, my liver appreciates the focus on class this time around.
Once at the emergency room, the helpful brothers explained what happened to the attending nurse (as I had at this point, the vocal capacity of a snail). What, the nurse asked, were the marks on my arm for?
Upon learning how much alcohol these Ink Badges of Courage stood for, the focus of the triage changed. My leg was secondary; they now thought it best to pump my stomach. However, fate intervened and this became unnecessary as I promptly vomited all over the x-ray machine.
Upon my return to the party, I spent the rest of the evening on a couch being fed grapes and beer nuts from lovely young ladies. This episode made a name for me at the institution and I became famous across the campus.
However, the down side is that this marked the downslide of my college career; one that only now am I attempting to revive and obtain an actual degree.
And, my liver appreciates the focus on class this time around.
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