In
the course of five days during the fall of 1974 I was initiated into a
fraternity. I remember it as if it were
yesterday; the way you remember the root canal you had yesterday when you tried
eating that piece of peanut brittle today. But before you can be invited to join a
fraternity, you have to experience ‘Rush Week,’ seven days you have to
experience to believe. Having never been
to Mardi Gras I can only imagine Rush Week is very similar except maybe you
don’t have to find a building to urinate
on in New Orleans.
I
initially went through Rush Week at the University of Florida in September of
1973, a full week before I ever slept in a classroom. You see, Rush Week was something
special…especially for an 18-year old freshman away from home for the first
time AND legally allowed to consume alcohol in the state of Florida. You could say it was something to write home
about, but only a fool would even consider writing home to their parents about
Rush Week. Well, a fool and maybe a
freshman or two (the two I have in mind never graduated and yes, I imagine
you’re just as shocked about that now as I was back then as I’m sitting at my
desk writing this using my special Sarcasm Font). Free alcohol, free meals, plenty of girls
from the fraternity’s sister sorority, loud music, games and let’s not forget
the free alcohol. You see, fraternities
exist on the revenue generated by a steady flow of pledges throughout the
academic school year, and they will go to great lengths to keep their respective
traditions alive. From what I could tell
Phi Tau’s tradition was drinking lots of beer (Case in point: a vending machine
in the game room where you could buy a beer for 25 cents) and taking pride in
not being the first person to pass out at the previous night’s house party,
being photographed in all sorts of compromising positions and having your photo
plastered on all of the bulletin boards in the house. That would be the house of the sister
sorority, of course.
When
I went through my first Rush Week I had no intention whatsoever of joining a
fraternity. In fact I never used my real
name at any of the fraternities I rushed.
I had so many different aliases I was reluctant to return to the same
fraternity house twice fearing I might use the wrong name, or should I say that
one of the brothers may have been sober and/or coherent enough to realize the
‘Steve’ he met two days ago looked an awful lot like this ‘Taz’ guy he was
meeting today.
Fast
forward: Fall of 1974. I broke down and
pledged Phi Kappa Tau fraternity, primarily because (a) I enjoyed the company
of their brothers and (b) I enjoyed the free beer served at the Rathskellar,
our very own on-campus bar, coincidentally and ever-so-conveniently staffed
entirely by the brothers of Phi Kappa Tau.
My first hurdle was telling the brothers my real name, as I had gone
through several nights of Rush Week with them as Clarence Barrow. I even embellished my name by telling them my
nickname was ‘Clyde,’ as in Clyde Barrow, the infamous partner of Bonnie
Parker.
Literary
time out: When the movie Animal House
premiered several years later, my entire review of the film consisted of four
words: ‘Been there, done that.’ I just wanted to keep things in
perspective; we were not choirboys.
So
it came as no surprise when the brothers bestowed upon me my official pledge
name: The Counterfeit Clyde (I had two other pledge names as well, both much
too inappropriate for this forum). After
a couple of months as a pledge it was time for the moment of truth: Hell Week. Following are the ground rules handed down to
the 14 of us ‘neophytes’ as we entered into the worst week of our short lives:
·
First
order of business: Dress Code. Coats
and ties must be worn anytime a pledge leaves the fraternity house. I imagine my fellow students in class must
have thought of me back then what I think of men in their 30’s playing Dungeons
and Dragons at the local comic book store today. (I think they're the Cat's Meow, in case you're wondering.)
·
Second
order of business: Communication. Don’t speak to anyone other than a fraternity
brother (who must be the one to initiate the communication) or a member of the
university faculty or staff. Fortunately
the only person I even wanted to speak to was Cindy, who had just transferred
to the University of Florida after spending her freshman year at a junior
college in Jacksonville. Fortunately she
was always the type of student who actually studied, so she had plenty to keep
her busy while I was otherwise engaged.
·
Third
order of business: Love life. If you have one, put it on hold. Hopefully it will still be there for you should
you survive Hell Week. One of the
brothers (Andy, a junior from Tennessee as big as a barn and sporting a head
full of steel wool) asked me for Cindy’s phone number ‘since I wouldn’t have
any use for it.’ Without blinking I
called out seven numbers, the seven numbers of the local pest control center
where I bought a mouse once a week to feed my pet boa constrictor during my
freshman year. If Andy ever called the
number, he may have been too embarrassed to confront me about it.
·
Fourth
order of business: Hygiene. An allowance of five minutes a day for a
shower, shave and ‘all things bathroom.’
You’d be surprised how much you can get done in five minutes, as long as
you’re able to go seven days without a bowel movement.
·
Fifth
order of business: Diet. An allowance of three meals a day, and no
snacks. I surprised myself with how many
yeast rolls, ice cream sandwiches and milk I was able to consume in one
sitting. Of course I had a similar diet
for three years of high school so this was actually nothing new. Forget I even mentioned it.
·
Sixth
order of business: Obey. Do whatever a brother asks you to do, no
questions asked. Remember Andy? He asked me to hold out my hand so he could
flick his cigarette ashes into it, reminding me that ‘no ashes better end up on
the floor.’ I had no problem with the
ashes, at least those without any fire smoldering within. If I would have had the presence of mind I
would have rubbed my hand on his head to find out what type of chemical
reaction fire, ash, steel wool and Geri Curl might generate. But alas, I shook the burning ashes out of my
hand and they fell to the floor. Moments
later I fell to the floor as well, as Andy commanded me to ‘drop to the floor
and give me 25.’ And yes, back then I
could do 25 sit-ups. I find it irrelevant
it took me almost 30 minutes.
To be continued…
No comments:
Post a Comment