College days revisited

Like many of my friends from my college, I awoke last Sunday and said, “How did I do this every weekend in college?”
Yes, I returned from a weekend visiting my college friends, and I think the word that most sums up the trip is, “Ow.”
But, it’s not the “Ow” you are probably thinking. I am more than a decade removed from college, and let’s be honest here — I think I have matured somewhat. That and my wife was there to chaperone.
My wife and I met at Alabama in 1993, and this was to be one of the biggest reunions since we left. A college fraternity brother of mine decided what we all really needed was a band party after an Alabama football game. Since he lives in New Orleans and, along with several other New Orleans brothers, is picking up the pieces of his town, we figured the guy could use a party, and it was our duty to oblige.
We rolled into town Friday night, and headed over to the fraternity house. We don’t get back to campus very often, so it’s always good to catch up with old friends. And it’s always nice to revert back to the time-honored fraternity tradition of abandoning birth names and referring to people by names such as Otter, Sloth, Biggun, Ogre and Opie. Why college students find a need to produce nicknames for people is beyond me. (Back when we first met, the first time my wife ever got my answering machine, she thought she had the wrong number, as she had never heard anyone call me Mike.) But it is strange that regardless of how big of a family someone has, how good of a job they have, how far removed from college they are, they will always be known by said nickname to their college colleagues. And it’s even stranger how easy it is to revert back to introducing yourself by a name you haven’t been called in a decade. (In case you’re wondering my nickname, keep wondering.)
That evening was spent mainly catching up on old times, and telling the stories from our day in college, I am sure to the boredom of the current house members. Granted, they exacted their revenge on at least one alumnus with an introduction to beer pong, which, based on the way he looked the next morning, he lost. (No, it was not me. Chaperone. Remember?)
We ended that evening fairly early, heading out by midnight or so. After all, the next day was the big day. Alabama versus Florida in the afternoon, followed by a band party that evening.
The game was phenomenal, with the Tide putting on a show for the ages. For those of you who watched the game, I think we can all agree that the repeated replays of Tyrone Prothro’s hideously disgusting injury were unnecessary.
The evening of the band party was one of the most anticipated alumni events in a long time. The band that was to play, Dash Rip Rock, was a favorite in college. When the first cords were struck, I, like, many others in attendance, had the same thought: Man, that is really loud.
I don’t go out very often, and when I do it is to rather subdued and quiet spots where I can hear other people talk. This was not a place where you could hear people talk. But that was not the point. The point was to revert back to college days, screaming “Roll Tide” while the band sang “Sweet Home Alabama” and doing my fine impression of dancing, which actually looks more like someone trying to balance on two bad knees and nod aggressively over and over. My wife, not surprisingly, stands far away from me on the rare occasions when I try to dance.
The band played until around two in the morning, at which point someone was kind enough to announce that it was my birthday. Several of those in attendance celebrated my birthday in the way that seemed most fitting for a fraternity party. Fortunately, I had a change of clothes in the car.
We finally got in around 4 a.m., which was WAY past our bedtime. When we woke up the next morning (or, more accurately, later than morning), neither my wife nor I had much of a voice left, some from screaming and cheering the Tide, but mostly from the band party. My throat felt as though I had tried to swallow an apple whole and it got stuck halfway down. Add to that a six-hour drive home, and you could now understand my “Ow.”
While it was great to see everyone and great to party, we commented on the way back that we were probably glad we only did this once a year. It takes a while to get geared up for this. I can’t quite do it like I could in college. I’m Mike now. That other guy only comes out once in a while.