LAGNAF '91

In keeping with the theme from the Captain, I offer this.

My freshman year of college we started an all Greek party dubbed LAGNAF. There were three fraternities and three sororities, so it was a pretty good sized party, complete with a band and a dozen or so kegs. In later years we had to put up signs that said “Let’s All Get Nuts And Fraternize” because one of the Sorority advisors didn’t think ‘Let’s All Get Naked And Fornicate’ was enough of a compromise on the title.

I didn’t drink before college. I didn’t drink tequila before LAGNAF. And coincidentally, I didn’t drink tequila after LAGNAF either, at least not more than one shot in any given 6 month period. A comedian once mused that every shot of tequila is a different personality. You get too many of them in your head and all of a sudden they want out.

Somehow I ended up in a room sitting on a bed between my girlfriend and her best friend, with a large bottle of tequila sitting in front of us. Over the course of the week that followed LAGNAF thirteen people claimed to have done a tequila shot with me. I used to remember half of them, but now there is only one I remember. My final memory of the night involves a girl we’ll call T, since I can’t actually remember the rest of her name. We did a shot, and then with my arm around my girlfriend, and my other hand on her best friend’s knee, I leaned forward and started making out with T. The witnesses stood around watched in awe, waiting for my girlfriend to decide how to react. Finally she tapped me on the shoulder, and when I turned and looked at her she said:

“What are you doin’?”

“I dunno. Are you mad?” She considered the situation for a second or two and replied:

“Na.”

I remember making out with my girlfriend briefly, which seemed the appropriate thing to do, and then I remember pain. It took me weeks to figure it out. This immense pain in my arm pits had no explanation, and wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you talk about freely. LAGNAF also marks the one and only time I have ever woken up and not known where I was or how I got there. After I passed out they dragged me by my arm pits up two flights of stairs to the presidents room. There my girlfriend and her best friend watched over me, while all thirteen of those personalities vacated my stomach.

I awoke to the sight of Marilyn Monroe blowing me a kiss, with absolutely no memory of being sick. I actually saw a clean and empty bucket next to the hide-a-bed and felt quite proud of myself. Little did I know there was a large bruise on my chin from resting on the metal rail on the side of the bed most of the night.

The good news was that I discovered that I’m very resistant to hangovers.