The old college try

The best thing about going back to college is I get to relax and be myself. A lottery winning emu rancher.
Yes, my wife and I made our annual pilgrimage back to college, and yes, I am still hoping my voice returns in the next few days. Each year, we head back to the University of Alabama for a fraternity reunion. Since she and I dated during my fraternity days (I know, lucky her), it is a reunion for her, too, as she gets to see not just her husband but plenty of other college friends as we revert back to idiot phase.
This year, we traveled with a full van of folks. My wife and I were in the front, and three guys from college were in the back. Because the van was not loud enough, we stopped in Birmingham to pick up another person. My wife merely rolled her eyes as we went through story after story of pranks and parties and, of course, road trips (One was recounted thusly: “It was akin to a Viking raid: We came for their food, drinks and women.”)
Of course, this trip would be far more tame. We’re grown-ups now. We have families and jobs and responsibilities. And, in my case, a chaperone.
The first night we were there, there was a lot of catching up with people, some of whom I had not seen in more than a decade. We also got to know some of the current house members and their friends, which is how I came upon my $8 million in lottery winnings.
You see, if someone I am never going to see again is going to ask me what I do for a living, I find it far more entertaining to find memorable occupations. Steamboat pilot. Emu rancher. Professional fencer (for the pride of Luxembourg, no less). Or even independently wealth, courtesy of a correct lottery pick. When I spin the yarn, the reaction is one of two things: (1) A roll of the eyes, followed by a “Seriously, what do you do?” or (2) The wide-eyed look of amazement at ACTUALLY meeting a someone who tests zero gravity suits for a living.
My wife says I am an idiot, but I think she means that in a loving way. She did enjoy this exchange as well.
CO-ED: How old are you?
ME: How old do you think I am?
CO-ED: Ummm....24?
MY WIFE: Ha!
CO-ED: Are you his sister?
MY WIFE: Uh, yes, his twin.
CO-ED: I can tell.
MY WIFE: 24, you said? Yes, I am definitely his twin. (Under her breath: Bless you, you poor little dumb child.)

That evening, there was a band party at the house. And that evening I made a deal with myself and the world – I am going to stop trying to dance with any rhythm whatsoever. I have no soul. My wife, bless her heart, has worked with me for 13 years trying to make dancing a possibility, but I just always have this look like I am about to sit down and then decide against it. Basically, I do this over and over and over and consider it dancing. I also occasionally put my fist in the air for some odd reason. I am a mess. But I have to come to terms with it. This, ladies and gentlemen, is my dancing. Don’t tell me it stinks. I already know that. It’s what I can do, it’s what the music drives me to do. It’s sad and pathetic, but, quite frankly, it’s me.
The next day, we opted out of going to the game, even though they were giving away tickets. Seriously. Around kickoff time, three Ole Miss fans (representing roughly half of the Ole Miss contingent), asked us where the Bear Bryant Museum was. That’s how excited they were about the game.
We opted to head to the stadium and see the new Walk of Champions, featuring statues of the coaches who have won national championships at Alabama. There, with the years of their titles, were Wallace Wade, Frank Thomas, Bear Bryant and Gene Stallings. And just to make sure the pressure is on, there was a fifth spot reserved for the coach who brings home Alabama’s 13th national title. Bear, of course, drew the biggest crowd, although we stopped for a moment of reverence for Ol’ Bebes Stallings, since he won his title when we were in school.
We returned to the house to watch the game, where a cooler, a bathroom and a huge buffet of Big P fried chicken were at our disposal. Big P has been the cook at the fraternity house for roughly 800 years, and I have to say – I weep for you, knowing that you have never had Big P’s fried chicken. Think of the greatest fried chicken you have ever had. Now think of that ss roadkill squirrel. That is how good Big P’s chicken is. I am not positive, but I am fairly sure Big P’s fried chicken, if you asked it nicely, would loan you money. It is that good.
We had a band party that night as well, and we all stayed up WAY past our bedtime. The next morning, most everyone had very little voice left. Unlike our college days, when it may have been from screaming at the top of our lungs, this was from trying to shout above the band, “MAN, THIS IS LOUD.”
After a very long ride home, we were happy to be back in the present. We missed our kids, our pets, our home. I love going back to college. I love getting home even more. Guess that’s what happens when you’re old. And an emu ranching millionaire.