Men of the Skull Chapter 60: Raid

Trying to get drunk when under 21 was sometimes difficult back in the day, despite the comparatively lax rules.

I had some people over for a small gathering.  Dave was supposed to bring the beer, as he was the only one of us who was over 21 at that point.  (He's now 54.  I feel old.)

I wrote this chapter in 2005- fifteen years ago.  I saw Dave a few months ago when he and his wife visited State College.  And yes- he brought this up- now 33 years later.

I guess after all these years, and with all the changes and everything, he thought I would feel bad about this.

Nope!  Not one bit!  And when I said that, his wife laughed loudly.

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Chapter 61: Raid

            Friday, April 10 1987  Scarfo Indicted in Judge’s Death

“That asshole isn’t coming, is he?” snapped Virginia.

“He doesn’t feel like hauling the beer all the way down from North Halls” I replied.

“Shit” sighed Mandy.

             Virginia, Mandy, and Virginia’s “little sister” Laura waited in my apartment for an hour before I finally called Dave.  The idea was that Dave would supply the beer and I would supply the women for a night of drinking and fun.  Maybe Dave would get lucky, but I doubted it.  

Now we sat and fumed in my living room.

“I thought you said this guy was cool,” Laura said.  Laura left transferred to Temple from PSU last year.  She pledged little sister at Crow, selected Virginia as her big, finished the program, and left.  She was short- about Judy’s height, slightly heavy, big breasts, shortish blonde hair and a pretty face with bright blue eyes.  Her voice rasped liked she smoked three packs a day, but she never smoked in her life.

“Well, he’s apparently fucking lazy too” snorted Virginia.

“He lives in North Halls?” asked Mandy.

“Yeah.  Runkle Hall.”  I replied.

“Did he say we couldn’t go there?”

“No.  Actually he said we could come up if we wanted, but he wasn’t coming here.”

Mandy stood up and straightened her leather mini skirt.  “I say we drink him dry.”

Collegian April 10, 1987

Virginia looked at me and smiled an evil smile.  She stood up.  Then Laura, then me.  And so we merrily walked across College Avenue and up the long hill to the north side of campus, scheming as we went.

After knocking on Dave’s door, Mandy called out “Open up!  A bunch of hot sluts want to fuck!” 

The door opened quickly.

Dave had a case of Bud longnecks.  Dave sat in his chair, Sven in his, Tim on a bed with the case between them, and each had a beer under their belt already.  Four down, twenty to go.  Quick introductions followed.  Dave offered beer to the ladies, and opened them.  Virginia sat next to me on the other bed, Mandy on the desk next to Dave, and Laura next to Tim. 

            Dave had a small makeshift table set up in the middle of us all- some particleboard on top of a milk crate.  Virginia innocently suggested we play “Up the River Down the River,” as it was a game we could play even if not right next to the “table.”  Sven and Tim enthusiastically agreed.  Dave agreed reluctantly.

The rules were simple: The dealer deals 4 cards to each player (including himself), then eight cards in the middle, in two rows of four.  The dealer flips over the first card and announces, "(Card) drinks 1.”  Any player who has a matching card (number) drinks one drink.  If a player has two of the same number (like two 3's) the player drinks double or if player has 3 of the same number then triple.  The dealer flips over 2nd card and announces, "(Card) drinks 2 .”  Any player who has a matching card drinks two drinks (if double, drink 4 drinks, if triple, drink 6 drinks, etc.).  Next card drink 3, then drink 4 to finish off one row.  Now it's time to go back down the river. Dealer flips the end card and says, "(Card) gives 4.”  Any player who matches the dealt card gives 4 drinks to anyone, then give 3, give 2 drinks, and give 1.  Drinks could be split if desired (you drink 2, you drink 1.)  We always played “aces make the rules” so if you had an ace and it came up on the table, you could make a rule.  Rules would carry over if the cards were dealt again.

The game started quickly, with Virginia drinking four on a pair of aces among others.  Rules: standard (No d-d-d, no names, no pointing), and no cursing.  Dave hated “no cursing.”

As the drinks started to be given, the elbows pointed between our little cabal of raiders (when the rules say no pointing, everyone uses elbows).  We gave Dave a token drink or two, but for the most part kept hitting each other.  New rule: “Bull moose”- you can only drink with your left hand.  If caught drinking right, you finish the drink in a single chug. 

First game finished, twelve beers left.  Deal again?  “Sure!” chirped Tim, thinking he might get some action from Laura.  After all, Carolyn was out with her friends that night.

Second game- Sven dealt, and started with “Drink 4” instead of drink 1, and counted down from there.  Kings drank 4; I had a pair of kings.  Third beer! 

Three, two, one, and around the corner to give one, two.  Aces give two- Mandy had triple aces, and gave two drinks each to Virginia, Laura and me.  New rules:  5s are a social and 4s are “popsicle” – last one to touch their nose drinks.  Kings give three- I gave them to Dave.  Give four.  Second game over.  Seven beers left. 

“Up for another one, Dave, or you going to let a girl out-drink you?”  Mandy asked.  She had four beers to his two and a half.

“Deal ‘em!”  He called, flinging a hand up for emphasis.  I dealt the cards for game three.

Drink 1, 2, Sven had an ace on 3.  Rule:  before drinking you had to say “God bless Ronald Reagan!”  Drink 4… POPSICLE!  Virginia lost and drank.  Tim spilled his beer.  “Sloppy drink!”  Drink twice!

Round the corner, Give 4- deuces, and Mandy had two.  Four for me and four for Virginia.  “Bull moose!”  Laura absent-mindedly sipped using her right hand.  She chugged and accepted another beer.  Give 3…2…Social!  “To beer!”  Dave toasted, then we gave the mandatory “God bless Ronald Reagan.”  Drink 1.  Game three over.  Three beers left.

Golden chair- bathroom break!  Most of us scrambled down the hall to take a leak.  After finishing up, I bumped into Virginia in the hall.  She pulled me around the corner away from the room into the stairwell, took my head in her hands and kissed me passionately.  Hands roamed.  I was fondling her right breast, her hand down my pants when Dave turned the corner.

“I thought so!”  He crowed.  “It’s not like you two are subtle!”

We smiled and fixed ourselves.

“Don’t tell anyone.  We want to keep it quiet” I said. 

Dave nodded.  “No problem.”  He knew about Judy.

Back to the room.  Game four- Tim dealt.  Virginia and Tim both opened a new beer each.  Play moved quickly.  Take 1…2…  Mandy finished her beer, and opened the last one.  Take 3…Social!  “Penn State!” toasted Laura.  Take 4.  Round the corner.  Give 4…3…Dave kept feeding drinks to Virginia, which she eagerly drank.  Carolyn came in, dressed in tight jeans and a striped top that showcased her assets.  Give 2.  Tim was dumbfounded- he didn’t expect her back so soon.  Give 1.  Game over.  No more beer.  Our little group of four chugged what was left of our beers.  Stood up, thanked Dave for the beer. And walked out.  We’d been there maybe half an hour, tops.  Dave looked stunned. 

We laughed all the way back to my apartment. 

Many years later, Dave still talks about that night, usually using the word “bastards” as he does so.

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Dwellers

Strange week here in Sophie land.

It was another up and down week.  I felt sick most of it.  Run down.  I've been sleeping maybe four hours a night because I'm up so late doing homework.  But that's not the strange part.

Twice last week, I was told (by two different people) that I'm "intimidating."  Me?  A fat transgender woman?  I couldn't scare anyone these days.  Huh.

Friday, I had a virtual meeting where I learned that the GA work I've done pretty much since getting here was all wrong.  Sigh.

A couple of hours later, I was invited out for a drink by a couple women I haven't seen in oh... over thirty one years.  One of them used to work at the Skeller (I wrote about that bar here.)  She was the hottie that everyone wanted to go out with (WAY out of my league.)  The other was an Alpha Chi Rho (Crow) little sister from my day.  I dated a couple of Crow little sisters when I was an undergrad.  (I wrote about them in the book I wrote: Men of the Skull.  You know, the one I've been serializing here on the blog.)

The Crow little sister wasn't sure she knew who I was, after all I've changed a bit in the 30 years since my undergrad days.  She remembered the two Crow little sisters I knew.  We both went digging through our phones looking for old pictures.  She found hers quickly.  I recognized her picture vaguely.  Frankly, she didn't look like the person in the picture, except for the eyes.

The Picture I showed Her

When I finally found my old college picture, she recognized that person.  She said she remembered my "Moody eyes."  Huh.  No one ever told me that before.  I told her that I couldn't get a date in college even if "I wore a necklace of hundred dollar bills around my neck."  Which was true.  She said she knew a few girls who had crushes on me back in the day.

I wish I knew that then!  But, knowing me, I wouldn't have believed them.  Or said something lame.

One of the things the Skeller bartender said struck me.  We were discussing holding grudges.  The Crow little sister was outside smoking at that point.  Skeller told me that Crow held grudges for a long time.  I said I do too.  However, most of the anger and pain of whatever caused the grudge disappeared when I transitioned.  I had other issues to worry about.  That said, I still hold a few grudges, but all but 2 of those are against people who hurt dear friends.  That I cannot forgive, nor will I.  My dear friends are my life.  No one hurts them on my watch.

If I can help it, that is.

Skeller said that one of her coworkers called her a "Dweller," because she dwells on things.  I'd never heard the term used in that way.  I told her that I'm a dweller as well.  I dwell on decisions I made decades ago.  I dwell on events that I'm guessing others have long forgotten.  I have more regrets than I have cells in my body.

I know that's not good.  I should let things go.  Yes, I can read your thoughts.  Just kidding.  People tell me that I should let things go as if it were easy.  It isn't.  I've written many times in this blog about my overwhelming need for Justice- to "put things right."  So much in my life was/is just unfair.  Yes, I know life isn't fair- but some things should be.  For example, I dwell on the fact that I was born.  And that I was born in a male body.  That I'm transgender.  I dwell on the pain I caused my Wife and daughter, and the pain Wife inflicted on me by not moving with me.  I dwell on so many things.

But if I didn't, I wouldn't be me.  I wouldn't try to learn lessons from mistakes.  I wouldn't have this passion for history.  I wouldn't be here working toward a PhD.

The three of us chatted for a little over an hour, then I left.  I don't know what kind of impression I left.  They invited me to a bar that night, but I declined.  I sponged two drinks off of them, and that was already too much.  No, I stayed home and watched movies with my roomie/bestie Linda.  And I thought about things.  I dwelt.

Then, I took two melatonins and went to bed.  Woke up, and started writing.

Be well.

February Blues

Been a while since I've written.

I knew this PhD thing would be hard- really hard.  I didn't expect it to be as hard as this.  I did well enough last semester (did I already mention that in a previous entry?). I got a 3.97.  In my one class, my final paper pulled me out of a certain C, which in grad school is failure.

This semester, I again have three classes: Issues in Adult Education; Social Theory and Lifelong Learning; and Collective Action and Social Movements.  That last one is a sociology class, and is taught by Dr. McCarthy, who is a huge name in that field.  He attended his first protest in 1959, and has been there-done that.  He joined the PSU faculty in 2000, so he was unaware of the protests here of the 80s.

Floor of the HUB.  Took this last week

His class has the most reading involved- as much as the other two classes combined.  Also, it's Sociology, which I hadn't taken a class in since undergrad... in the 80s.  All but one other person in the class are sociology majors.  All but one of those are PhD students.  That exception is an undergrad senior, who is going to graduate with her bachelors and masters this year (and is also taking PhD courses.)  In any case, the whole sociology thing isn't my forte.  So, there's a bit of a learning curve.

Things have been up and down.  Some days I break down sobbing.  Some days all is well.

Today is sunny and cold.  Classes are done for the week, but I still have a lot to do.  I have a skype meeting with my GA boss in a few minutes.  After that, I'll take an hour or two to relax before getting back to work.

I hope it's worth it in the end.

Be well