I was reminded of a few stories recently from a group text. When I was in college, I lived with 33 other guys in a fraternity house. You can imagine what the result was. Here are a few highlights.
One of my brothers had a final, which was still not a good enough reason for two rather sauced up brothers for him not to have beer with them. So, they decided to grab him sometime around 3-6 am, give or take, and handcuff him to a toilet, cover him in shaving cream and aftershave, then turn all the showers on hot. I found him about 8 am. He said, “I’m not even angry anymore, I just want out.” The keys were found, but he was late for his final. He walked into class, still covered in men’s hygiene products and sweaty. His professor looked up, “Want to take the final tomorrow?” “Yes.” He walked out. I think he passed.
One time I had, um, fallen asleep and awoke to a shop vac turned on full blast and afixed to my groin. In the struggle that ensued, I lost my undergarments but broke free. I grabbed a handful of darts off the door and took out the lead antagonist with a fastball dart that embedded into his hamstring. He tumbled down the stairs and we called it even.
Multiple times people got “pennied” or “coined” into their rooms. That’s where you stack coins into someone’s door so that when they try to open them, the coins create a wedge that prevents the door from being opened. One time an incident like this led to an axe being used to chop a hole into said door, but I really wasn’t too close. When someone is angry and swinging like Paul Bunyan, you go party elsewhere.
The worst was a markering. One young man decided to drink copious amounts of whiskey and filled the stereotype to a tee. He was obnoxious and berating everyone, but made one fatal flaw – he passed out first and with his shoes on. “Die with your boots on” is one of favorite Iron Maiden songs, but anyone with shoes on was open game. He was decorated with a Magnum 44 sharpie that had a tip thicker than my index finger. Every part of his body was markered up, and I mean every part. Scrotum, teeth (not in that order) and inside his ears. Around 6 am I heard a guttural scream, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!” I jumped up and locked my door and heard doors being kicked and punched. Then it was quiet. The ink was so thick, he drove 2 hours to his parents’ house. I later found gasoline was required to remove it all. Best part is we were watching the video tape of the crime from the night before on the house television when he returned eight hours later. He was glowing pink from the gas on his skin and still very angry, even more so when he saw what we were doing. He said nothing, but ripped the tape out and stomped it into pieces and went to his room. Just another Sunday.