(We're getting near the end, I promise you!)
Chuck and I walked down to the Rueb and enjoyed several of their famous Long Island Iced Teas before going upstairs to join many of our drunken classmates on the semi-decrepit dance floor.
I wouldn’t be able to tell you how much alcohol I consumed that night, but I’m fairly certain it was enough so that a doctor would have been able to cut me open to perform an emergency appendectomy without my feeling a thing. Thanks to God for my Scandinavian roots.
At one point near the end of our evening I found myself in a car packed with other students on the way up the hill back to the college. And speaking of Scandinavians, among my car mates was a Norwegian guy named Åge upon whom I had nurtured a quite obvious crush earlier in the year. Since I was drunk out of my mind, I thought it would be a good idea to make fun of his name for the entirety of the ride. “ÅGE, BOGEY, SKOGEY!!” I repeated at intervals, not really making any sense but just being really annoying. Poor Åge took it in stride and merely informed the rest of the car that I was just bitter because I was homosexual and Åge was straight. Touché! Luckily I was drunk enough not to be horrified at his altogether accurate assessment.
When we arrived back on campus I stumbled into my dorm and up the stairs to my room --- where, on the message board was a note from one of my roommates: “Tom, Jeff called.”
Tom, Jeff called. Such beautiful words had never before been written in the English language, at least not that I was aware of.
I looked at the clock on my dresser and it was 1:15 am. Naturally I decided to give Jeff a call right then and there.
-------to be continued-------
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