Night Out at University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign)
From the title I think you can deduct that this story takes place at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, which in fact is my alum-mater. I spent four great years there and at the risk of sounding cliche, it was a special period in my life that I won't forget (at least the moments and memories I can remember). Without spending too much time gushing over all of the great times I had there, let's just dive right into this specific night out.
My first two years at UIllinois I lived in the dorms and looking back on it now, I probably would not have changed that decision. I had a great group of friends surrounding me, great roommate, and after noticing how my grades dropped once moving into private apartments, it probably saved me academically at that time. It did make drinking a little more difficult...for whatever reason RAs (Resident Advisors, aka glorified college hall monitors) didn't really like the idea of underage kids getting wasted in small corridors at odd hours of the night (or any hours during the days for that matter). Either way, we got pretty good at it...at least good enough not to get in any real trouble (by the end I did manage to be placed on life-time probation from any and all University owned housing establishments--different story).We really weren't that sly about our actions, however. We were noisy, the hall clearly smelled of booze, and I think kids passing out and/or puking in the floor-bathroom were dead giveaways. We managed though.
One night, we began as normal...meeting in someone's room, playing drinking games, and just doing what normal college kids do. Needless to say we probably over did it a little bit that night, but that didn't stop us from going out. We gathered the group and set out to Clybourne's (each bar had it's night during the week, Cly's was famous for wine night, Tuesday?, and Mexican night, Thursday?--not sure which night this was).
Once we got there, the group pretty much separated. One of my really good friends immediately went for the bathroom (a grimy, dungeon like shit-hole in the basement) where he proceeded to puke. His night was over before it started, but he did have the self-awearness to go home. The rest of us continued, doing what college guys do...seek out coeds. Most of the time we really weren't that successful, so there's no point to making shit up and making it seem like we pulled every night out...I mean let's be realistic.
This night, however, I did have some luck. I somehow started dancing with a little cutie...near the stripper pole. It's always a bad sign if you combine drunk college kids and stripper poles--something I didn't know at that time. We started getting pretty into it, and at one point the girl started lifting my shirt up, trying to take it off. I told her the only way mine was coming off was if her's did as well...keeping in mind that we were still in the middle of this bar, dancing sloppily around a pole. She didn't object (classy U of I). At that point, her friend saw what was going on and ran over to stop her (both of us shirtless--her in bra, me in wife-beater).
I was disappointed the fun came to an end...then even more disappointed to realize the bar was closing, I lost all my friends, and was standing in a wife-beater next to a stripper pole (again, classy U of I). I realized I should probably head back home...to the dorms.
After a lengthy walk home, I stumbled up to the dorms noticing my friends sitting outside on a bench smoking pipe tobacco from a corn-cob pipe (seriously, I swear it was only tobacco and from a corn-cob pipe--yet again, classy U of I). As they saw me approaching, I could hear them all laughing hysterically, yelling at me "why's your shirt inside-out?"There was no good way to answer that question.
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