What is it with college kids and beer? The need to feel like free grown ups. Or just plain fun on a Friday night? On many campuses the joy-juice runs freely but at “teachers college” there is a need for the future teachers to be examples of clean minds and clean living. So we had our parties a few miles away!
On a fateful Valentine’s weekend I learned a valuable lesson about the evils of beer. A few miles from our institution of high ideals was an entrepreneurial farmer who made a good living for years renting his barn during the winter season. Admission was $10 bucks and the several kegs of watery beer was “free” - thus avoiding any complications with the local constabulary. I had never been to this shindig because I usually went across the river to my best friend's Bub dorm party at the U of P. But this weekend Bub had invited a new coed prospect to a Valentine’s dinner. And so I gave it a try - and it became an evening I would not live down with my dorm friends for months to come.
I am and never was a big “drinker” unlike many of my buddies who were “Olympic Boozers”. That night it was unseasonably warm in the barn. And the beer was so darn cold. I am also not a great dancer but I am told a few hours into our bacchanal I picked out a freshman girl who was delighted to dance with an upperclassman. I celebrated the holiday for love and danced the night away until the farmer flashed the lights and the party was over. I don’t remember being driven back to campus by my roommate who only drank rootbeer.
Sunday morning I awoke with my first hangover. My roomie suggested that I get some breakfast right away. I dragged myself over to the cafeteria and waiting at the door was a young lady that looked vaguely familiar. She ran up to me and gave me a big hug. I weakly said, “Do I know you?” “Know me,” she blurted. “You gave me your college ring last night. We’re going steady!” I checked my hand and my new ring was gone. My roommate and several others from my floor were listening to this encounter with smiles on their faces a mile wide. I apologized to the girl whose name I hadn’t gotten yet. And she laughed. Took off my ring from the chain around her neck and tossed it at me. My buddies hooted as they shook hands with the young lady who said, “How’s I do?” “Great" was the reply in unison. She sauntered off and we never crossed paths again. I glared at my “pals” and then tried to eat - but the smell of searing bacon made me quite nauseous and I retired to my dorm room. If I had a tail it would have been between my legs.
That night I learned some important lessons that would come in handy for most of my later life. Know your capacity. Always count your drinks. And avoid hot barns on a Saturday night.
