Wash U Chapter 1
Hi everyone,
While at a small soiree thrown in honor of one of my friend’s return to the United States an odd thing happened. An older man arrived at our party and asked to see one of the guests. Now this would not be terribly strange had this been a larger gathering, but in a small group of a dozen people who know one another very well, it was kind of weird. One of my fiends asked, “so … how do you know E----?” He was rewarded with awkward silence. My friend didn’t seem to know how to respond to the silence, so he let him in. This just proves that an utter lack of social skills can be handy. Next time someone asks you a question you’d rather not answer, just stare at them. They’ll be too uncomfortable to be insistent.
Eventually it was determined that the older man in question did know our friend and was not some sort of poorly socialized collection agent or a bizarrely well-informed mass-murderer. The whole scenario brought forth memories of another odd fellow from a long time ago: Wash U guy. In order to preserve the strange yet true tale of Wash U guy, I’ve decide to record it as a series of blog entries. Enjoy.
(Fair warning, this is kind of a long story. I suggest you go to the bathroom now if necessary)
We first met Wash U guy during the last week of Winter quarter during my Junior year of college. The college I attended was a serious place full of serious students who did everything very seriously. While there were outposts of slackers (and I was an occasional member of such an outpost), most took college very, very seriously. All of this seriousness led to periodic explosions of drunken, self-abandoned fun. The pressure was simply too much; release had to be found. Often you’d find a very serious chemistry student who had finished her organic chemistry test at noon was blind drunk, half-naked and screaming along to Dexie’s Midnight Raiders by five PM. Generally these orgies of self-destruction were solo affairs and relatively disconnected to the surrounding college community … except for one day of the year. On one day all of the undergraduates coordinated their emotional collapses so that they would happen at once (along with a barbeque). This periodic destruction of all that was scholastic and serious took place on the Saturday before Winter reading week and was called Dillo Day.
A senior told me on my first Dillo Day that it was the one day a year when “those who don’t drink get drunk, those who don’t take drugs get high, and those who get high get really high.” In keeping with these instructions, I had planned a particularly brutal regimen for myself. I planned to begin the day at the afore mention outpost of slackerdom with the traditional DD breakfast of eggs and beer. Following such sustenance two friends and I had planned to eat a hit of acid along with a particularly good dose of E. While I am not typically such a stoned freak, it is easy to get carried away on a special occasion.
By 2 PM I was blissfully aware that nothing I was thinking made even a little bit of sense. Despite this inner maelstrom of tangential and illogical thinking my conversation skills remained somewhat coherent, and I found I could participate in a dialog for a couple of minutes without saying something incomprehensibly weird. Most importantly, I was relatively certain I would remember all that occurred. It turns out I was largely correct in this assumption (though details are a bit fuzzy).
By this point in the afternoon most of the drunk and merely high people had passed out for a nap leaving only those who were tripping awake. We had assembled in one room and were entertaining one another with our stupidity. It is into this morass of psychedelic nonsense that Wash U guy made his first appearance.
Apparently we left the front door open and Wash U guy decided it would be perfectly appropriate to drop in and wander around until he found someone awake. Eventually he found his way to our room and introduced himself. He said his name, which we promptly forgot, and explained something about visiting friends at our college from Wash U. He then unsuccessfully attempted to have conversations with us that went something like this.
Wash U: So, what year are you in school?
Tripping person: Are you talking to me or him?
Wash U: Him?
Tripping person: sorry, that is what I thought.
Wash: What???
Tripping person: (10 seconds of silence)
Tripping person: Did you say something?
Another conversation went something like this.
Wash U: Did you check out the bands by the lake yet?
Tripping person: Oh no, there isn’t going to be a band at the party.
Another TP: No he is talking about the lake concerts.
Tripping person: No the party is going to be here, not at the lake. The administration won’t let us on the lake because it is made of water and we would drown.
Room: general laughter
Tripping person: no, think about it!
In addition to our sparkling small talk abilities, we looked very, very strange. One group of women brought over a bunch of colored candles and had been playing with them earlier in the day. Unfortunately the dye in these candles proved to be stubborn, so all of their exposed skin was rainbow colored. I, on the other hand, had found a supply of glitter. Liking the effect of the bouncing rays of light, I had covered my face in it. I had also found a cowboy hat somewhere and claimed it as my own. Altogether, I must have resembled the world’s ugliest showgirl (or a transvestite in serious need of a make-over). Another person was sitting on his back playing with his fingers because they looked, “really cool on the ceiling.” After sitting among what must have seemed to be a gathering of brain-damaged, postmodern circus clowns for indeterminable length of time, Wash U guy left saying he would attend our party later that night. He didn’t, and we thought he had frightened the poor man out of our lives forever. We were terribly wrong.
While at a small soiree thrown in honor of one of my friend’s return to the United States an odd thing happened. An older man arrived at our party and asked to see one of the guests. Now this would not be terribly strange had this been a larger gathering, but in a small group of a dozen people who know one another very well, it was kind of weird. One of my fiends asked, “so … how do you know E----?” He was rewarded with awkward silence. My friend didn’t seem to know how to respond to the silence, so he let him in. This just proves that an utter lack of social skills can be handy. Next time someone asks you a question you’d rather not answer, just stare at them. They’ll be too uncomfortable to be insistent.
Eventually it was determined that the older man in question did know our friend and was not some sort of poorly socialized collection agent or a bizarrely well-informed mass-murderer. The whole scenario brought forth memories of another odd fellow from a long time ago: Wash U guy. In order to preserve the strange yet true tale of Wash U guy, I’ve decide to record it as a series of blog entries. Enjoy.
(Fair warning, this is kind of a long story. I suggest you go to the bathroom now if necessary)
We first met Wash U guy during the last week of Winter quarter during my Junior year of college. The college I attended was a serious place full of serious students who did everything very seriously. While there were outposts of slackers (and I was an occasional member of such an outpost), most took college very, very seriously. All of this seriousness led to periodic explosions of drunken, self-abandoned fun. The pressure was simply too much; release had to be found. Often you’d find a very serious chemistry student who had finished her organic chemistry test at noon was blind drunk, half-naked and screaming along to Dexie’s Midnight Raiders by five PM. Generally these orgies of self-destruction were solo affairs and relatively disconnected to the surrounding college community … except for one day of the year. On one day all of the undergraduates coordinated their emotional collapses so that they would happen at once (along with a barbeque). This periodic destruction of all that was scholastic and serious took place on the Saturday before Winter reading week and was called Dillo Day.
A senior told me on my first Dillo Day that it was the one day a year when “those who don’t drink get drunk, those who don’t take drugs get high, and those who get high get really high.” In keeping with these instructions, I had planned a particularly brutal regimen for myself. I planned to begin the day at the afore mention outpost of slackerdom with the traditional DD breakfast of eggs and beer. Following such sustenance two friends and I had planned to eat a hit of acid along with a particularly good dose of E. While I am not typically such a stoned freak, it is easy to get carried away on a special occasion.
By 2 PM I was blissfully aware that nothing I was thinking made even a little bit of sense. Despite this inner maelstrom of tangential and illogical thinking my conversation skills remained somewhat coherent, and I found I could participate in a dialog for a couple of minutes without saying something incomprehensibly weird. Most importantly, I was relatively certain I would remember all that occurred. It turns out I was largely correct in this assumption (though details are a bit fuzzy).
By this point in the afternoon most of the drunk and merely high people had passed out for a nap leaving only those who were tripping awake. We had assembled in one room and were entertaining one another with our stupidity. It is into this morass of psychedelic nonsense that Wash U guy made his first appearance.
Apparently we left the front door open and Wash U guy decided it would be perfectly appropriate to drop in and wander around until he found someone awake. Eventually he found his way to our room and introduced himself. He said his name, which we promptly forgot, and explained something about visiting friends at our college from Wash U. He then unsuccessfully attempted to have conversations with us that went something like this.
Wash U: So, what year are you in school?
Tripping person: Are you talking to me or him?
Wash U: Him?
Tripping person: sorry, that is what I thought.
Wash: What???
Tripping person: (10 seconds of silence)
Tripping person: Did you say something?
Another conversation went something like this.
Wash U: Did you check out the bands by the lake yet?
Tripping person: Oh no, there isn’t going to be a band at the party.
Another TP: No he is talking about the lake concerts.
Tripping person: No the party is going to be here, not at the lake. The administration won’t let us on the lake because it is made of water and we would drown.
Room: general laughter
Tripping person: no, think about it!
In addition to our sparkling small talk abilities, we looked very, very strange. One group of women brought over a bunch of colored candles and had been playing with them earlier in the day. Unfortunately the dye in these candles proved to be stubborn, so all of their exposed skin was rainbow colored. I, on the other hand, had found a supply of glitter. Liking the effect of the bouncing rays of light, I had covered my face in it. I had also found a cowboy hat somewhere and claimed it as my own. Altogether, I must have resembled the world’s ugliest showgirl (or a transvestite in serious need of a make-over). Another person was sitting on his back playing with his fingers because they looked, “really cool on the ceiling.” After sitting among what must have seemed to be a gathering of brain-damaged, postmodern circus clowns for indeterminable length of time, Wash U guy left saying he would attend our party later that night. He didn’t, and we thought he had frightened the poor man out of our lives forever. We were terribly wrong.
posted by Bartleby the Student at 5:46 PM
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