I'll never know why I really left California for a college in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, especially one that I'd never even visited, but I do have five reasons locked and loaded when someone asks:
"I loved the sports teams there."
"No one from my high school had ever gone there."
"I wanted to go to a campus-less college in a city."
"Pitt had a decent D-I sports program."
"To prove my independence, I thought I had to move far from home."
However, those are flim-flam. I could generate a similar list for any decision I’ve made, even "Why I once ordered a Rueben on sourdough, not rye, with hash browns nearly-burnt, if the cook has time." (I hate fennel, love sourdough, dislike mushy food, fear carcinogens, and respect cooks.)
My point is that our lives are not a story in real time. They only become one when we create a narrative, and even that version often changes before, during, and after the incident.
This is my attempt at explaining how and why I, a punk-rock, not-jock, anti-establishment hippie musician, joined a traditional fraternity at a big college back east.
This is also my attempt to explain why that organization’s National Board accused me of violating sacred principals and threatened legal action against me, and why the local chapter then took a vote to see if I should be black listed, or still be allowed to attend public events, as a friend. How nice…
Once upon a time, in 1999, an overweight eighteen-year-old virgin with dangerously-low self-esteem graduated from high school in the town next to Berkeley and headed East for college in a land called Pittsburgh, where within days, he realized he'd made a terrible mistake.
For starters, he'd never lived in humidity and didn't know how to cope. Was every other guy there changing boxers three times a day, to combat "swamp balls?"
Also of note, the city was less sports-oriented than the boy’s imagination had predicted. Friendly fans weren't hanging on street corners, dying to talk about local teams. Worst of all, when he attended his first baseball game, solo, he realized watching sports alone was...lonely.
Which leads us to the real reason our hero (let's call him Mike) was upset. A week into his “big college experiment," Mike had made no progress in his social life and found himself friendless, a situation that had never occurred before (and still hasn’t again).
Part of this was his fault. He’d moved into a solo dorm, an option available to a minority of freshmen students, and while it was nice to have no one keeping him up by snoring at night, having a roommate was a leg up when it came to campus life, as you had a “friend” to go with to orientation events.
But there were other problems: The dorm mixers were full of nerds, he couldn’t find anyone to sell him pot, his floor-mates were country boys who called their state “Pennsyltucky” and thought Pittsburgh was a metropolis, and the classes were all lectures so you never got to talk to other students.
The worst part, however, was that Mike’s ego was reeling with a thought he’d never considered: He’d lost forty pounds that summer, but no one here could tell or would care. Was it possible that, contrary to his wishes, hopes, and movie-based logic, "not being fat" was NOT the solution to all life’s problems?
Mike couldn’t handle that reality, so he decided to invent an excuse to tuck his tail and head home.
Unfortunately (at the time) and fortunately (reflecting now), heading home wasn’t in the cards. 1. Tuition was nonrefundable if he quit and he had no job. 2. It wasn't possible to transfer schools for at least a year (and really two), and 3. his pride would never let him live at home with his parents again.
"Go to rush week and check out some fraternities," his older brother said, calling from his frat house room at Columbia. "It worked for me. And Dad. He’s the one who told me to. Ask him about it."
"Your brother is right," his father confirmed. "I'm still close friends with many of my brothers, forty years later. At the very least, go to rush week and see if any houses appeal to you."
"Mike, you have to try at least one," Sam plied again, via email. "Besides, they offer free food, and you might like another guy in attendance, who isn't in the frat, and you can make friends that way."
"Who said I can't make friends?" Mike replied to the heavy monitor attached to his mammoth tower computer with its thick ethernet cable that got him the fastest Napster downloads in the history of mankind. "I'm doing just fine," he said to the walls of his solo, roommate-less dorm.
“Did you go to any rush events?” his brother asked again the next night on the phone.
Mike heard a kid down the hall yell, “Woooooo, you moved!” It was Matt. He’d obviously just won another game against Jerry, where they took turns hitting each other to see who would flinch first.
Our hero lowered his head and agreed to attend at least one rush event, so the next day, true to his word, he picked up a flyer for his brother's frat, his father's, but then, a third poster caught his eye. It was advertising something Mike loved: paintball!
Mike rubbed his eyes. Surely he was misreading things, as the flyer said it was free. Paintball was expensive! Even better, it said the event was out in the woods, something he’d never been able to try in the Bay Area, thanks to overcrowding and commercial real estate prices.
What the hell, he thought to himself. Worst case scenario, I get some exercise and get to shoot at a bunch of secretly homoerotic jocks in a dorky club with secret handshakes. What could possibly go wrong?
To Be Continued….
This week’s Coffin Talk features one of the most interesting people I’ve had the pleasure to interview! Bill Edgar is a private investigator, author, and the world's only “Coffin Confessor.” Yes, this incredible man is hired in advance to speak on behalf of the dead, at their funerals, as a surprise to their audience. This one is loaded with juicy stories that will make you laugh and cry. Listen here or on any app.
Great story, I can't wait for the next installment.
Mike, I read the three part story back to back, but writing here since this is where it started. Great story telling and writing! Though not necessarily all fun and games for you, I “enjoyed” reading!