A crazy story involving druken immaturity: (sweet!)
In the movie "Magnum Force" with Clint Eastwood, the story ends with the corrupt police chief perishing by his own underhanded devices, to which Callahan comments, "A man's gotta know his limitations."
Now, learning one's own limitations is definitely a valuable thing, but before the good part I must explain some things. Be disgusted, be delighted. . . It doesn't bother me either way.
As some of you may know, I'm a senior a Princeton. We have a day called "Dean's Date," which is the second Tuesday of January (for the first semester) and it's the last day a student can hand in work. Basically, it's the last day of the semester.
Also at Princeton is a street called Prospect Avenue. It has many of these "Eating Clubs," which exist because there's no upperclass dining option. They also have a frat like quality to them, except that they're co-ed and people don't live in them. On the night of Dean's Date, the whole "Street" is in full swing. I'm a member of the club that's furthest away from campus (Charter), a good kilometer from my room.
I went to buy a celebratory bottle of champagne for Dean's Date. I found it strange that it cost $14, because I only buy cheap stuff when my intent is to drink it out of the bottle.
I started drinking the Champagne at Charter Club around 10:20PM. Around 11:00PM I noticed that the bottle was still kind of heavy, and at that point I realized that it was one of those rare, elusive 1.5L bottles of champagne. The $14 price was justified. If I were smart, I would have given the rest to someone, but the bubbly was already starting to kick in strong, and logic was out of the question. The executive decision was made to consume the remaining 750mL.
At that point it was about 12AM. There was still a good 2, maybe 3 hours of crazy stuff to come, but as someone who sorta knows his limitations, I decided to head home. What a responsible thing to do. . . except that Charter is the last club on the street, and on the way back I ran into a bunch of guys also on the Rugby team outside of a club called Cottage. I wasn't in a state to realize that joining them was a certifiable "bad idea," and I spent the next two hours doing the other thing that rugby players are known to do: drink beers and sing lewd songs. (BTW, I play wing and tip the scales at a scant 170lbs)
I was capable of making it back to Charter around 2:30 or so after everyone had left. I was going to eat some sandwiches and collect myself. But I don't remember (1)eating sandwiches or (2) collecting myself. Later, forensic evidence did indicate that I did, in fact, eat sandwiches.
I came to my senses in the bathroom around dawn, curiously wearing nothing but a T-shirt. My sneakers were on the floor nearby, but I had apparently yakked all over myself and thought it would be a good idea to take off all my clothes (except the t-shirt) and throw them in the middle of the washroom floor. I was still pretty drunk, but not drunk enough to put the clothes back on. They went in a plastic bag. My sneakers went on my feet, and I found my hat, unsoiled, in the coat room. It was -10C outside.
But I decided to take a chance and run for it. Bare-ass. With a t-shirt and a wool hat on, carrying a sack of dirty clothes behind me. Needless to say, I'm very glad that I ran the 1500m when I was on the track team. Even so, when I got to my room, I could have theoretically been confused for a female.
In the process, I streaked past 1K of ground, passing guard booths, early risers, unsuspecting policeman, and best of all, Prospect House, a sort of upscale facility for some of the more distinguished faculty.
And I made it to the local blotter. precious. . . I'm going to go ahead and say that I pulled one of the fastest, drunken 1K times this world has ever known. The local cops had no idea what hit 'em until it was too late.
Enjoy.
Now, learning one's own limitations is definitely a valuable thing, but before the good part I must explain some things. Be disgusted, be delighted. . . It doesn't bother me either way.
As some of you may know, I'm a senior a Princeton. We have a day called "Dean's Date," which is the second Tuesday of January (for the first semester) and it's the last day a student can hand in work. Basically, it's the last day of the semester.
Also at Princeton is a street called Prospect Avenue. It has many of these "Eating Clubs," which exist because there's no upperclass dining option. They also have a frat like quality to them, except that they're co-ed and people don't live in them. On the night of Dean's Date, the whole "Street" is in full swing. I'm a member of the club that's furthest away from campus (Charter), a good kilometer from my room.
I went to buy a celebratory bottle of champagne for Dean's Date. I found it strange that it cost $14, because I only buy cheap stuff when my intent is to drink it out of the bottle.
I started drinking the Champagne at Charter Club around 10:20PM. Around 11:00PM I noticed that the bottle was still kind of heavy, and at that point I realized that it was one of those rare, elusive 1.5L bottles of champagne. The $14 price was justified. If I were smart, I would have given the rest to someone, but the bubbly was already starting to kick in strong, and logic was out of the question. The executive decision was made to consume the remaining 750mL.
At that point it was about 12AM. There was still a good 2, maybe 3 hours of crazy stuff to come, but as someone who sorta knows his limitations, I decided to head home. What a responsible thing to do. . . except that Charter is the last club on the street, and on the way back I ran into a bunch of guys also on the Rugby team outside of a club called Cottage. I wasn't in a state to realize that joining them was a certifiable "bad idea," and I spent the next two hours doing the other thing that rugby players are known to do: drink beers and sing lewd songs. (BTW, I play wing and tip the scales at a scant 170lbs)
I was capable of making it back to Charter around 2:30 or so after everyone had left. I was going to eat some sandwiches and collect myself. But I don't remember (1)eating sandwiches or (2) collecting myself. Later, forensic evidence did indicate that I did, in fact, eat sandwiches.
I came to my senses in the bathroom around dawn, curiously wearing nothing but a T-shirt. My sneakers were on the floor nearby, but I had apparently yakked all over myself and thought it would be a good idea to take off all my clothes (except the t-shirt) and throw them in the middle of the washroom floor. I was still pretty drunk, but not drunk enough to put the clothes back on. They went in a plastic bag. My sneakers went on my feet, and I found my hat, unsoiled, in the coat room. It was -10C outside.
But I decided to take a chance and run for it. Bare-ass. With a t-shirt and a wool hat on, carrying a sack of dirty clothes behind me. Needless to say, I'm very glad that I ran the 1500m when I was on the track team. Even so, when I got to my room, I could have theoretically been confused for a female.
In the process, I streaked past 1K of ground, passing guard booths, early risers, unsuspecting policeman, and best of all, Prospect House, a sort of upscale facility for some of the more distinguished faculty.
And I made it to the local blotter. precious. . . I'm going to go ahead and say that I pulled one of the fastest, drunken 1K times this world has ever known. The local cops had no idea what hit 'em until it was too late.
Enjoy.
Comments
Originally posted by bunge
I'm so proud that you didn't put this in the 'most embarrassing moment' thread.
What about that story is embarrassing? Just cause half of Princeton saw his junk!
Originally posted by Splinemodel
..... I decided to take a chance ... it. With a t-shirt and a wool hat on, carrying a sack . The local cops had no idea what hit 'em until it was too late.
Enjoy.
Chances are they saw you, but figured your a very retarded Santa Claus...
Besides, the video of your escapades on ice are making the rounds as we speak..
Ah the wonders of iMovie....& a G5...
8)
Also, if you're going to streak, make sure you can run FAST. Cops won't even bother if they don't think they have a definite chance of catching you. . . . Afterall, indecent exposure is not a serious crime.
Originally posted by Splinemodel
. Afterall, indecent exposure is not a serious crime.
Go try it on in Afghanistan...