Men of the Skull Chapter 34: Sahn-Tah

As the semester neared its end, students' minds filled with Final exams, the Holidays (how to get home,) and, of course, getting in those last parties at PSU before break.

And so it was at Skull.  And like everything else, Skull had a Tradition to follow.

Sahn-Tah.  That's not how it was spelled- that's how it was pronounced.  Accent on the first syllable.

The way this works is explained in the chapter, so I won't spoil it.  Sahn-tah was always a graduating senior.

This was another day where I didn't know what to expect.  I would participate in three Sahn-tahs in my time at Skullhouse.  However, this was the only time I received a "gift."  I have mixed feelings about that.  In one way, it showed me that there were still people who didn't accept me.  In another, I was sort of thinking that may not be a bad thing.

Oh, and Sahn-Tah?  Usually ended up on the Campus Loop, going around and around and around.

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Chapter 34: Sahn-tah

Friday, December 12, 1986 South Africa moves to silence dissent

            Like many large groups, the Skulls had a “Pollyanna” for Christmas.  Several of the guys were Jewish or whatever, but it didn’t matter- the Skull celebration had nothing to do with religion and everything to do with busting each others balls!

            Garbo filled me in after it was mentioned at chapter.  The gift could be as mean as you want it to be- or not.  The hat passed around, and I drew Chumpy.

            As I mentioned before, Chumpy was powerfully built, but short- five foot five at most.  He’d been dating Becky, the Zeta he met at Homecoming, since October.  Chumpy was the Gamma, which meant he was house handyman.  That was everything I knew about Chumpy.  Hell, I don’t think I knew his given name at that point.

Club Room: Post Sahn-Tah 1988.  I know I took more pictures, but they are lost to time.

            Judy and Virginia helped me shop.  I didn’t know nasty I should be with my gift- I mean after all I was still trying to be accepted by these guys.  Still, part of me just wanted to be mean: fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

            Eventually I settled on my first idea.  We shuffled through the falling snow to the Hardware store at the corner of Allen St and Highland Alley where I bought a metal step stool.  It was small, maybe a foot or so high.

            I didn’t know how seriously the brothers took this event, so I didn’t know how to wrap it.  Marni suggested the house colors, so off we went through the light snow to McClanahans.  There we found shiny gold wrapping paper and Melissa found black ribbon.  Figured I’d write a short verse to explain the gift, and this was done on my old Skull stationary.

            I wrapped the box an hour before heading over to the house for dinner.  I didn’t know that as I wrapped, Sahn-ta was also getting ready.

            The event started at seven, and was held in the Club Room.  We all finished dinner and most helped clean up!  After all, we needed the chairs.  A few guys had dinner brought upstairs to them, among them was King.  King was Sahn-tah this year.  The others were Flounder and Sauce- they were Sahn-tah’s elves.

            In front of the blazing fire was placed one of the large black leather high backed chairs- for Sahn-tah.  A dining room chair flanked either side for his elves.  All of the gifts were piled on the piano side of the room.  Most of them were wrapped shabbily in newspaper.  My gold and black box stood out- and everyone wondered about it.  What the fuck was Chumpy getting that rated such a wrap job?

            Someone put Christmas music on the house speakers and Sahn-tah made his appearance- staggering badly and supported by his elves.

            “You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout I’m tellin’ you why- Santa Claus is comin’ to town!”

            King was dressed in a red sweatshirt, fake beard, and a Santa hat.  He was so drunk it was a wonder he was upright.  His elves, dressed in green with red Santa hats, steered him to the large black chair.  “HO HO FUCKIN’ HO!”  Sahn-tah yelled, holding his arms up in a V, then he chugged the remaining beer from the bottle in his right hand and threw it to the floor.

            Everyone chanted “Sahn-tah!  Sahn-tah!”

            Flounder Elf handed Sahn-tah another beer, and Sahn-tah chugged that one as well.  The elves then pushed him into his chair, and the gift giving began.

            Ok, when your name was called, you came forward, drank the shot handed to you by an elf (cheap whiskey) then took your gift.  If there was something written attached, you read it out loud, then you opened the gift and held it up for all to see. 

            I figured that all out while watching everyone else.

            We were on tap of course.  I stood in the back by the keg, where I filled the occasional stray pitcher handed back to me.  I knew I didn’t need nor want to be sober for this. 

            I watched as the elves handed boxes to Sahn-tah, who read the names as best he could.  He was slurring and drooling drunk.  Every so often, an elf would declare “SOCIAL!” and we’d all drink- including Sahn-tah.

            After maybe ten others, my name was called.  King was surprised as I was- he called “Lance?”

            I walked around the gathered brothers to Sahn-tah and accepted a shot from Flounder elf.  Gulp!  Down it went, burning all the way to my stomach to the cheers of the assembled brothers.

            There was no card or written piece to accompany the flimsy item wrapped with that day’s Daily Collegian.  I opened the package and found a battered old white t-shirt.  I held it up and saw that someone wrote FSK on the front with red magic maker.  (FSK’s colors are red and silver.)  The brothers screamed and laughed.  High fives through the crowd.  Someone shouted “SOCIAL!”  I had no beer, so I turned and gestured to Flounder Elf for the whiskey bottle, which he gave me.  I gulped a big mouthful of whiskey, trying to drown the humiliation.  A couple of brothers cheered “Go Lance!”  After finishing, I shook my head, twirled the shirt around over my head and went back to the keg.  I needed a chaser.

            I tapped myself a beer, then another one.  Sahn-tah passed out, his chin resting on his chest, drooling into the now disgusting yellowish beard. 

            Finally, Chumpy was called.  By that point, he was fairly drunk.  He’d torn off his t-shirt and was wearing just khaki shorts.  When his name was called he walked over to the elves with an exaggerated strut that reminded me of a cross between John Wayne and Grape Ape.  He drank his shot, burped loudly into Sahn-tah’s face (Sahn-tah didn’t wake up) and accepted the gaudy gold box with black ribbon.

            Chumpy opened the envelope taped to the top and opened the paper inside.  “This must fuckin’ be from fuckin’ Lance.  Who fuckin’ else has Skull paper?”  He held up the paper for all to see.  Some people shouted and mocked, but not many.  I guess I wasn’t the only one who had that stationary. 

            He then started to read.

“Chumpy,

It’s amazing to all the respect you’ve found.

In fact, you’re known in the house all around.

Your ability to fix things is without a match.

It’s almost as bad as the way you get snatch.

We’re glad you found Becky so you can finally get laid.

We wonder sometimes how much she is paid.

In fact we’d salute you, yes we would,

If only we could see you when you stood.

So accept this help so thoughtfully given

It should help in this short life you’re livin’

A giant like you sometimes needs a hand

So enjoy this stool on which you can stand!”

Hey, I never claimed to be a poet. 

            Brothers were laughing their asses off as Chumpy unwrapped the gift to reveal the stool.  I guess I did all right. 

            The brothers were still laughing as the next name was called.  Chumpy stomped back to the keg and looked up at me with an angry look.  He then softened and started laughing and shook my hand.

            “Drink, you asshole!” he said, smiling.

            We toasted and drank.

            Now, the deltas never put away dinner.  Turkey, mashed potatoes and all that were sitting out in the kitchen as we all drank and laughed.  Nine o’clock rolled around and Delta Gamma (DG) showed up for the social we all forgot.  The House was a mess- paper everywhere- nothing was ready.  A bunch of guys helped King upstairs while the rest of us did our best to clean the house. 

The DGs thought it was really fucking funny.  We got them beers and they kicked in to help clean the club room.  We had a wrapping paper fight that ended up in one of the girls having the whole trash can dumped over her.  (She started it!)

While we worked(?) in the Club room, some of the sisters helped in the kitchen.  They helped put the food in the fridge and the pantry.  However, no one locked the pantry.

With the house in passable shape we started the social “officially.”  Groups sat at tables in the dining room talking or playing Thumper or Quarters.  I joined in a Quarters game called Chandeliers. 

In Chandeliers, you have a central cup filled to the top with beer.  Each player places their full beer cup around that central cup in a circle, rims touching.  The player with the quarter bounces it as normal.  If it lands in someone’s cup, they drink their beer and it becomes their turn.  They don’t have to chug, but don’t take all fucking night either.  If the shooter misses, they drink.  If the shooter gets the quarter in the center cup, everyone shouts “Light bulb!” and chugs down their beer as fast as possible.  Last cup on the table loses and chugs the central cup as well. 

Yeah, it got ugly in a hurry. 

So I’m dead last and chugging for like the third time when Chumpy came over with the whiskey bottle, his stool and two empty plastic cups.  He slapped me on the back, put down the stool and stepped up on it.  Smiling, he looked down at me (barely), poured two shots and handed one to me. 

“This fuckin’ rules” he said, toasting.  Down they went, burning as only whiskey could do.  I winced.  My stomach started to toss.  The other players “smelled blood” and Bix called a social.  Drink more!

I don’t know how I made it to the bathroom behind the kitchen in time, but I did.  I think I puked up everything I’d eaten since 1981.  After I finished, I staggered through the kitchen, where all these sisters were eating.  Turkey, potatoes, they were having a grand old feast.  I could care less.  I had to get back to the apartment.

What I didn’t know, is that the meal was supposed to be our lunch the next day as well.  DG completely finished it all off.  Not a scrap was left.  It was a great social…

Especially if you were a hungry DG.

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