Long-Awaited & Much-Anticipated... it's Drunken Escapades: Issue # 3!!!!

They say that the third time's the charm. Well, it's your lucky day. I'm gonna talk about a little time that I got to screw up a good opportunity for a lot of future people.

To put it simply: No students enrolled at Georgia Southern are allowed to be in the President's Box at football games unless they are working there.

Because of me.

And this is my tale....


'Twas the Fall of my second (?) senior year (it could have been the first...they blend together). I had received the Alumni Association Scholarship so I was going to get to go down on the field and be recognized at halftime of the game with other recipients of the scholarship. But I'll come back to that in a few.

Saturday morning comes reeeallly early because I have to get up and go to the Alumni Association's meeting at 9:00 to get the whole picture and congratulatory thing done. With my parents there and everything. And I had done my usual Friday night routine the night before.

When I arrived, the first person to see me was my father who greeted me with "Oh, God" and just shook his head. "That bad?" I say. Apparently it was. So I headed to the bathroom to try and fix what I didn't get before at home. The pictures of me and the chicks who won the scholarship as well are simply awesome if I do say so myself.

So after all the pictures and recognition, I make a light-hearted comment to the Director of the Alumni Association, asking him if this meant that I could get a pass to the President's Box. He just kind of laughed and said "maybe."

Later at the game I'm getting all kinds of shit from my friends for getting to go down on the field at halftime and be adored by thousands. Well, not adored, more like not completely ignored. But time comes for me to head down and I do. Much adoration and fanfare occurs and the Director of the Alumni Association comes up to me and says I have the green light to go up to the President's Box. Score one for the good guys!

I proceed to truck on over to my friends and give them my crap to hold so I don't have to hold it up there, because I didn't plan on staying long. Just long enough to check it out.

Somewhere in between those goal posts, yours truly is about to make history. Sort of.

When I walked into the Box, I noticed a few things:

• Oh it was nice and cool.
• The view wasn't all that great, I'd rather watch from the student section.
• The had a buffet! A free one!
• TVs with lots of other games on.
• Comfy, comfy seats.
• There was a bar. A well stocked one.

But I was hungover as all get out, so there was not going to be any drinking for me that day. So I just started talking to the bartender whom I knew (go figure). And he told me three of the most beautiful words I've ever heard: "Drinks are free."

Those three words are enough to make me reconsider the whole "I'm really fucking hungover and I don't feel like drinking" idea. So I figured that I'd have just one free Beam and Coke. You know, just for hair of the dog.

One turned into two, which turned into a few. At that point I needed to make a break for it and go let my friends in on my new situation. After a brief exchange with the doorwoman (doorperson?); I head over, tell them, throw in a few "nyah nyah's", dodge flying water bottles, get slapped, and run back to the free booze. It's all down hill from here...

I park myself at the bar like a retard. Not casually in the comfy seats where you can't see anything, no I prop myself against the bar and drink away. Drink after drink and I think that I'm as casual and discreet as I usually am (that's bad enough); but apparently not so much. I think that I'm being tolerated by everyone else in the room at this point.

The 3rd quarter is about to end and my buddy the bartender lets me know that they stop serving after that quarter ends. So I finish the one I have, order another...and one for the road.
As I finish the very last of them, and I couldn't possibly tell you how many I had while I was there, I turn to leave to go back home to get ready for the night's party. Who's standing there when I turn around to go? Yeah, the president of the University. Great.

This man is about to not be happy. Or at least to about to rethink a few policies.

This is the exchange that I remember having and I think it's pretty much right:
G: "Um, Derek, you appear to have had enough to drink and I think that it might be best if you just went ahead and left the Box."
D: "Aww, it's cool. I was just about to head out anyways. I gotta go get ready for tonight. But thanks for letting me up here, sir." (notice how I tried to sober up a tad at the end)
G: "You're welcome. Have a good afternoon."
D: "K. Thanks. Umm, you too."


Next thing I know, it's pitch black and I'm pretty sure I'm in my room. It's also loud as Hell, and I intend to find out what the racket is. I proceed to walk out into the middle of a party that is so large it has filled my apartment and spilled outside. And I'm in my boxers and one sock. Not really giving a shit, I proceed to get a beer and mingle with everyone. I eventually got cold and then went and put on some clothes and resumed my partying.

After regaling everyone with my fabulous tale of wonder in the President's Box for the next few days, I kind of forgot about it.

Fast forward to several years later and I'm sitting in an Admissions Office meeting with some of the Southern Ambassadors (student tour guides). A co-worker (we'll call him Fritz) explains that one of the prizes that they can get for doing stuff is being able to work in the President's Box at a home game. One of the Ambassadors asks why they have to work and not just relax. Fritz says because regular students are not allowed in there anymore. I start laughing. They Ambassador asks why. Fritz said because the President has that policy because someone got too drunk in there one time and the President hasn't allowed regular students in there ever since then and won't again. I laugh even harder.

Ahh. Memories are even better when you really go and fuck shit up.

D