Men of the Skull Chapter 65: Routine

 Some songs bring back wonderful memories.  This chapter is one of those memories.  It's also a slice of what a fraternity party was like at that time- in that house.  At the time, I felt truly happy: I was young, at Penn State, and dancing with whom I had strong, if conflicted, feelings.  The floor was sticky, and the house smelled like stale beer- but for that moment, it was heaven.  

Things were looking up for me.  When I think back on my time at PSU, this is one of the happiest memories.

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Chapter 2.65:  Routine

Saturday, April 18, 1987 Sixers and fans salute Dr.J

Midnight and I left Dave’s dorm room.  I walked downhill on the straight path through campus: past the new bio building that was under construction, past the HUB, and following as it tailed left by Atherton Hall toward the Saloon on College Avenue.  Crossed College and up Hiester St to Beaver Hill.  There I changed my shirt to something a little nicer and splashed water in my face.  Then I went out, up Beaver Ave to Locust Lane, past Cedarbrook, DU and Acacia.  Drunken couples, knots and groups were already staggering around from place to place, party to party: talking too loud and pissing in any available bushes.  I crossed East Foster Ave, passed Phi Psi and arrived at Crow House. 

As always, the line was very short.  The Crow pledges were getting to know me by sight by then, so they just waved me in.  I tossed my coat onto the pile behind the DJ area, and headed left through the living room.  One of the lil sisters called out a hello, so I smiled and waved.  Down the wooden stairs to the basement, down the hall a few yards, and left into the party room.  It was crowded, but not packed.  I waved at a couple other smiling lil sisters as I dodged my way to the bar. 

“Ah Love Rock And Roll, So Put another Dime in the Jukebox, Baybee!”  Joan screamed from the speakers around the room.  The usual ten or so people were behind the bar, including Virginia.

From April 17, 1987 Collegian

See, we had an agreement: early Saturday night was Friends time.  I’d hang out with Dave or my brothers or whatever (almost always over Dave’s) and she would see her friends wherever.  But midnight was the deadline- that’s when I’d head over to Crow, usually arriving around 12:30.

And Virginia would always be there, behind the bar, playing Flip a Cup. 

She handed me a beer and smiled.

“Did you have fun?” she asked.

“Yeah.  Walt had a case, so we played Ace Face.”

“Cool!”

“How about you?”  I asked.

“I went over to Mandy’s and we hung out with a couple of the sisters.  We had a few kamikazes and got here around 10:30.”

“Skull!  Drink!” came a shout from down the bar.  Rich Duke had his elbow pointed at me.  I took a big gulp and swallowed a burp.

Party room at AXP, taken decades later.  Back in the 80s, the bar went all the way across with no access from the front.

“Sorry dear” Virginia said, almost sincerely.

“Any rules?”  I asked.

“Standard and no cursing” she answered.

“Drink bitch!”  Rich pointed at Virginia with his elbow.  She did sign language for “fuck off” while four people at Rich’s end of the bar pointed elbows at him for cursing.  Virginia finished her beer, and refilled.

From April 17, 1987 Collegian

So we played.  An hour maybe, if that.  Virginia filled a pitcher and pointed toward the ceiling to indicate she wanted to go upstairs. 

I broke away from my side of the bar and squeezed through the nearly packed party room. 

“Don’t change for you.  Don’t change a thing… for me!”  INXS pleaded through the speakers.

As I wormed through the crowd, I saw Judy speaking to Michelle and I waved.  She waved back unenthusiastically and without smiling, so I didn’t stop.

“I found a love that I had lost.  It was gawn for too lon-onnnng!” crooned Michael Hutchence.

I met Virginia at the base of the stairs, a quick kiss, and we squeezed up the right side of the steps past the people coming down until we arrived at the first floor.  Left turn into the living room where we sat on a windowsill.  Virginia refilled my beer.  By then the pitcher was already half finished.

She smiled at me and raised her plastic cup to toast.  We touched cups and drank. 

Virginia was wearing a tight white turtleneck and the usual tight jeans.  The turtleneck really showcased her large breasts, and every guy passing took a good look, even though some of them tried to hide it.  She told a couple of them to “take a picture- it’d last longer.”

We sat and talked about nothing for a while.  I described the Ace Face game and she updated me with all the new Crow lil sister gossip.

My house was partying that night as well, but going there never crossed my mind.

We finished the pitcher and Virginia pulled me to my feet and toward the dance floor.  As we passed the stairs, we passed Judy who coldly watched us go by. 

“American Pie” was playing, and everyone was dancing and singing along.

“Bye, bye Miss American Pie.  Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry…”  Crow played this every party, and everyone always sang along.  Loudly.

From April 17, 1987 Collegian

Soon the song ended, and another began.  Synthesizer and drums: Prince’s “Take me with You.”  Several people were bouncing around to the beat, but Virginia put her arms around my head, pressed her breasts against my chest and her crotch to mine and we gyrated slowly.

She sang to me- her voice clear and her happy eyes dancing with mine. 

“I don’t care if we spend the night in your mansion.  I don’t care if we spend the night on the town.  All I want is to spend the night together.  All I want is to spend the night in your ahhhhrmmms!”

So we swayed and I wished the Moment, the Party, the Night would never ever end.

The room used as a dance floor back then.  The Crows were setting up for a formal when I took this (with their kind permission)

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Unserved in Saginaw Sullivans

 A few weeks ago, my roomie/bestie Linda Lewis and I drove to Saginaw, Michigan.  It was such a long drive, and we were exhausted when we arrived.  We went to the house where she'd grown up to meet her sister and pick up a few items that belonged to Linda from her youth.  You see, Linda's mother died in late January of Covid.  Her father, who also had covid but recovered, was moving to assisted living, and wouldn't be coming back to live in the house.

Linda is fairly stoic and guarded with her emotions, and I don't blame her.  She's been burned so many times.  We've roomed together over six years, and there are still many things she doesn't talk about with me.  I understand that, as that's her way.  Still, while we were there, she seemed more relaxed then I'd seen her in a long time.  I'm guessing that was because she was in a familiar, if painful, place with family.

I'd met her sister, brother-in-law, and niece previously, and they did their utmost to make me feel welcome.  They're wonderful people.  However, I couldn't help but feel like an intruder.  It didn't help that both of Linda's parents were heavy smokers for decades, and the place reeked of cigarettes.  

That's the background, but not the story.

Ummm...

We arrived on Friday, tired and hungry.  The roads were snow covered and full of potholes (so many that it felt like Pennsylvania!).  I asked her where she should eat, especially as I wanted a glass of wine.  Linda suggested Sullivans Food and Spirits.  This is not to be confused with the incredible chain Sullivan's Steakhouse around Philadelphia.  This place is completely different.

We arrived as heavy snow flurries fell from the night, and went inside, where a hostess seated us quickly and efficiently.  That much went right. She got us both water with lemon.  I learned that she was a new employee.  Well, she did her part right.  As for what happened next, I'll quote what I wrote on their facialbook page.

"waited 20 minutes after being seated for a server to acknowledge us.  ordered wine.  both glasses had lipstick stains.  Mgr was gossiping at other tables and never stopped by.

the server who finally picked up our table after the other flat out refused (was it because I'm transgender?) was very pleasant and efficient.

still, never going back."

I included a picture of my wine glass.  Note- I wasn't wearing any makeup.

Wine glass photo

Of course, there was more to the story.

After we were seated, we waited.  And waited.  A waitress worked on the tables on either side of our booth, including the table behind Linda, who arrived after we did.  The place was busy, but not THAT busy.  I noticed that the staff, especially the manager, had enough time to enjoy long conversations with the customers.

After a while, I asked Linda how long we'd been waiting.  She said "ten minutes." That's when I turned on my stopwatch- which is unfortunately becoming a habit in restaurants.

Screen shot of the timer after I stopped it.

After ten more minutes, I asked Linda how much longer she wanted to wait.  She said "one minute."  At this point, a waitress from across the room (call her B)  asked the person waiting on the tables around us (call her C) if we'd ordered.  C turned and looked at her, after glancing at me again, and said "I'm not waiting on THEM."  At this point, B pulled out her order book, and asked what we'd like to order.  I immediately turned off the stop watch.  We were 35 seconds from walking out. B was friendly and efficient.  We both ordered a glass of wine.  I ordered a steak.  Linda ordered Lake Perch, which is a local specialty that she hadn't had in a long time.  (Yellow Perch is native to Lake Michigan.)

The food arrived promptly.  My steak was fine (it's hard to screw up steak), but the fish was soggy and "disappointing."  We finished eating, and waited a while B came back to drop the check.  The manager had visited every table within my sight, usually sitting with them for long conversations, but never stopped by ours.  I wanted him to visit us, first to praise B's service, but also to complain about the wait and C's comment.  

I wrote a small comment on the check "B's service was the only good thing about this visit."  Yes, I tipped.  I always tip well.  As the manager hadn't visited, that night I left my comment on their facialbook page.  I didn't comment on Yelp.  

Later that night (9:17 pm) I received a message from Sullivans vs FB messenger, apologizing for the experience.  About an hour after that, I received a long message from the Manager on Duty (MOD) that night.  I will not quote it, as I don't have permission. It was long, rambling, and full of excuses- some of which were legit.  I understand him courting the regulars who wanted to talk.  To his credit, he again apologized, and offered me a free dinner if I decided to return.  He did not address my comment about the server refusing to serve us at all, which was the heart of the matter.

I did not reply.

Dear reader, this isn't the first time this happened to me in a restaurant as Sophie.  It happened a couple of times before transition, and many times since.  Once Linda and I were ignored in an Outback Steak House in King of Prussia and were fortunate enough to speak to the owner/manager.  We ate and drank for free that night.  Many times, I leave and don't bother saying anything, and never return.  It just isn't worth the pain and effort sometimes.  

Well, Sullivans, you are 478 miles from my apartment- almost an eight hour drive.  I don't think I'll take you up on that offer of a free meal.  I worked in the service industry for MANY years.  I know what good service looks like, and that wasn't it.  You had one chance to make an impression on me and blew it.  And worse- the Lake perch was soggy, after Linda so looked forward to it.

I would've liked to know why C didn't want to wait on us.  I assume it's because I'm visibly transgender.  Maybe I shouldn't assume it, but it follows the pattern, and I can't think of any other reason she refused to even acknowledge our presence.  

That night, I slept on an extremely uncomfortable couch, surrounded by dozens of dolls on shelves above me.  Creepy dolls.  I didn't sleep well that night, not the next when I slept on a different couch.  I don't know how Linda slept in the tiny room where she slept for years.  I was surrounded by creepy dolls, but she was surrounded by memories.  

"Join us... play with us..."

I'd rather be surrounded by the dolls.  

Be well.

Men of the Skull Chapter 64: Poled

I have conflicted thoughts about this.  First off, I know the practice of "poling" goes back decades in fraternities and other male organizations.  Poling is a fraternity tradition for when a brother gets engaged.  Now, I wonder if it's a punishment for forsaking the company of men (the brothers) for that of a woman (wife.)  I couldn't find any reference to where the tradition began. 

This practice makes me wonder why a brother would even get engaged during his college years.  The Hood had other traditions in a similar vein, like being swirlied on your birthday.  Brothers would keep their birthday a secret for that reason- even their 21st.  Yes, I was swirlied for my 20th and 21st birthday, but not for my 22nd due to a swirley" accident in Spring 1988 (my birthday is in September.)

I also know that other houses other than mine practiced this.  While we did it on the front yard tree, some houses (like Lambda Chi) used the pole of a basketball net, or did it inside.  Some houses, like ΔΣΘ, got into trouble for doing it in early1989, while ΧΦ didn't get punished for doing it in late 1989.

In any case, this happened.  Last I heard, the couple was still together.  So, she was/IS worth it.  

And yes, the statute of limitations is long past.

Chapter 64: Poled

Thursday, April 16, 1987 Shultz trip ends with optimism

I walked over to the Bone for dinner, tired from waking up, student teaching, and using my poor, abused brain.

The whole house was on the front lawn surrounding the large tree between us and Triangle.  They were shouting, cheering and hollering “Is she worth it?”  I walked up the steps and across the yard and saw Chumpy tied to the tree, stripped to his boxers and covered with all kinds of shit.  Eggs were broken in his hair, kitchen grease smeared all over him, I can’t even guess what else (and to this day I don’t want to know!)

Chumpy got engaged to Becky, the Zeta he met at Homecoming.  As a result, he was the recipient of a good old fashioned Poling!  Lots of houses did it, usually for engagements, but sometimes for royally fucking up.

Flounder stood to the side, supplying Chumpy with beer when he wanted it (or when the Hood demanded he chug) and a bottle of Jack for shots.

I stood near the back and hoped no one would grab me.

From the April 16, 1987 Collegian

The Hood pelted Chumpy with tomatoes, beer, all kinds of various projectiles.  Some guys yelled “What were you thinking?” but most chanted “Is she worth it?  Is she worth it?”  It was a lot of fun to watch, and I chanted along.  [To my shame now]  

After a while, Becky appeared wearing a nice top and a tan skirt.  She thought it was funny too.  Chumpy managed to babble “love you” then she leaned in as close as she could without getting shit on her and kissed him.  The kiss was the signal for it all to stop, and so it did.  A couple of pledges were directed to untie him as the Hood scattered in all directions, each fearing that Chumpy would tackle them.

As soon as he was untied, Chumpy grabbed Becky, gave her a big hug and kissed her.  They held each other for a while before Chumpy staggered off looking for vengeance and Becky went looking for a towel.

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