My Fraternity Brother Came Into Town This Past Weekend And I Somehow Didn’t Die

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As much as I generally refuse to admit it, I am no longer in college. I try my hardest every day to stray away from that subject altogether, but when you work 9-6 five days a week in an office — the same office that houses a website called “Postgrad Problems,” no less — it gets rubbed in your face fairly frequently. That’s why, every so often, I need to have an adult cheat weekend where I go back to my old collegiate ways. This past weekend was one of those weekends.

To catch you up to speed, my first adult cheat weekend since starting my job on August 10th was the weekend my alma mater Wisconsin played Alabama at Jerry World in Arlington. I recommend checking out the full recap to see just how much I cheated at being an adult, but here’s a fairly decent example of what a cheat weekend entails.

Alright, one more for good measure.

I have one more video from that weekend that is full of so much adult cheat that I couldn’t post it without the risk of actually losing my adult status by means of getting fired.

I think you get the point by now, but I really enjoy my adult cheat weekends. I wasn’t expecting to have another one until this coming weekend, when I return to Madison for University of Wisconsin Homecoming (more on that in a later column). That all changed this past weekend when I got a text from one of my fraternity brothers who lives down here in Austin telling me that another one of our fraternity brothers was visiting.

It’s important to note that both the brother who lives down here and the one visiting, let’s call them “Bundy” and “Rusty,” respectively, are legends in my chapter. They are two of the world’s biggest proponents of #cantsayno, a movement wherein members accept any challenge thrown at them while out drinking. I can honestly say that the only time I’ve ever heard either of them say no was when I asked them “Have you ever not said yes?”

Let’s begin. I met up with Bundy and Rusty at the Wisconsin bar in Austin to watch the Badge win a squeaker against Nebraska.

You may have had your “fattest kicker in division 1” title stolen from you by that tub of lard slob over at Penn State, but you’re still my favorite big boy, Rafa.

We took a Lyft to a ramen restaurant Bundy had heard good things about. None of us had any idea what we were doing (I’m not entirely certain the menu was even in English), so Bundy and I just let Rusty order first and copied his order. The second the cashier said that it would be $35 each ($25 of which was on a bottle of sake and some Pinot Grigio in a can), I knew that this once normal weekend had just turned into an adult cheat weekend and decided to let loose like I used to do with much more frequency in the days of yore.

It’s hard for me to put into words what happened next, so I’m just going to let my snapchat story tell it to you. The only backstory you need here is that after we left the ramen restaurant, we stopped into a CVS to pick up some Red Bull and a pack of Magnum… double caramel ice cream bars.

What did you think I meant? Condoms? Two things wrong with that.

1. Like I think any of you would ever believe I’m rocking a monster hog.

2. I have no use for condoms because I’m a born-again virgin. I got my nut, now I’m back to Jesus.

Before we checked out, we spotted something by the cash register…

I’ll be the first to tell you that we got got. Fell into the impulse buy trap. Well, Bundy did, at least. Couldn’t say no. Wouldn’t let me chip in, either. That’s a true brother right there.

After palling around with Jerry for a few hours, we took an Uber to Sixth Street to hit up Buckshot, the local haunt of the TFM Writer House. If you ever end up there, tell Alan I say hi and please close out my tab for me. I’m not sure how much it’ll be, because (and considering) we took 6 shots of varying prices in a matter of 45 minutes, so just pay the man and we’ll work out the details later.

At midnight, Bundy checked out. Took an Uber home. I still had to show Rusty a good time, though. For reasons still unknown, I apparently thought there was a good time to be had walking the streets of downtown Austin in no particular direction while accumulating massive blisters on my Birkenstock-clad feet (hate on it, haters).

We ended up crashing at a friend’s house, which I don’t think Rusty was aware of come morning as one of the first things I heard when I woke up was him in the living room say to someone he had never met before, “Yeah, I actually have no idea how I ended up here.” Always making friends, that Rusty.

It’s absurd to me that it’s possible to have as much fun as I did this past weekend. Why? Because I did shit like this every weekend for four years. Weekends like this remind me that my college and fraternity active years truly were the best time I’m ever going to have. What’s the point in going on after such a depressingly harrowing realization? The knowledge that when I’m feeling more than ever that those years are behind me, I can take a weekend off and do a little “up up down down left right left right B A start.”

See you Thursday, Madison.


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