Prior to getting dropped at the front doorway of a gorgeous ancient dormitory at the ripe age of 17, I had internet stalked myself a friend and ally for when I finished lofting my twin bed and wanted to eat or find trouble to get into. Brian and I met up, hung out and ultimately became college besties quite quickly. Case in point, six semesters later I lived across the street in a place that allowed me to peer in his window without having the leave the coziness of my room and one semester after that I moved in with his friends.
|This is a very accurate photo of what our house|
looked like when I lived with boys
When I was a student, there was a fraternity on campus that hosted Jell-O Wrestling every year early in the fall semester. I couldn't even begin to tell you if it benefits a charity or if the wrestling girls are pre-chosen. What I can tell you is that there were posters up and it was in our newspaper as an event that was happening. I was interested in going. I wanted to do what college kids did! I put on my pink tank top layered with a black shirt with cut outs all down the front and a pair of jeans (the wrong clothes for 90 degrees and humid in the mid west) met up with Brian and headed that way.
|Imagine this, but with a fat|
girl in it, and less okay-ish
|Cool students run through this. See the aluminum pole|
to "save" you from having a limb blown off by the water?
|This. Is. Child's. Play.|
In case you were wondering, there is a moment when watching Jell-o wrestling will get boring. Even for the male species. When this happens, the obvious next step is playing a game of sand volleyball on the court out front of the frat house and the festivities. And in case you were wondering, wet, covered in Jell-o and sand feels a lot like salt and razors.
What happened next was an exploration mission of desperation. We desperately needed to clean ourselves off lest the chaffing start while sticky green sand was stuck to our faces. So Brian and I headed back toward the fountain with our new friends in tow. When we got there it was off. The magical cleaning liquid was no longer flowing. We headed to any other fountain on campus with similar results. I can neither confirm or deny this, but one of our group may have taken a swim in the 6" deep reflecting pond. Which I am pretty sure counts as defacing private property.
|This is the reflecting pond in question.|
Isn't my college pretty? BOILER UP!
Two swallowed mouth fulls of mud, one missing contact and three torn shirts later we had had the full extent of fun one can have covered in substances no longer discernible by the human eye.
And that, my lovely reader(s), was when I learned that firefighters will use the station hose to spray every last one of the twenty-some morons I was with - including yours truly - until they're clean enough to traipse to their dorms.
|This is an exaggeration. There were only two firefighters.|