maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets. -arthur miller



As I wrote last week, this past Saturday my rugby club held our annual elections. It's a long, drunken process further complicated by the fact that it is held about nine hours after the end of our Spring banquet (a beer-soaked bonfire, complete with roast pig on a spit...) ends. 9am Saturday morning thirty or so hungover college students file sit down and start drinking again, if only to make the intense headaches subside. We're all-stars, I know.

the bonfire

Rugby is a strange sport. This is true in a thousand ways, but the way I'm thinking about right now is this: chugging a beer is considered a punishment (i.e. if you're talking when something important is happening, our chief can tell us to finish our beers), and beer is also a reward-- our trophy bowl comes filled with beer, and when you get an award you drink it down. Paradox much?

izzi drinking her trophy

Anyway. Elections.

So I sat there nibbling a bagel, chewing each bite for like fifteen minutes until my stomach agreed to keep it down, sipping my mimosa (quickly followed by beer, once those ran out).

junior, marilyn, and myself at elections

Elections officially start. President elected, line and scrum captains elected. fine. Here comes the fun part: I was nominated for the next SIX positions, and LOST THEM ALL. I got the seventh thing I was nominated for. Not an awesome feeling.

When I started to get upset around loss #4 or 5 my friend Beth came over and talked to me. She was great, assuring me that I'd be an officer, that everyone knew I was really committed to the club, all good stuff. I'll miss Beth a lot next year (she's graduating), and it really made me feel sorry that we hadn't been closer friends while she was still on campus. Oh well...

In the end though I was elected to the position of Head Advisor, which puts me in charge of recruiting freshmen and getting them to stay in the club next year. I'm getting excited about it, especially since we had our incoming/outgoing officer dinner last night (drunk pictures and tales to come later...suffice it to say that we went through 2.5 handles of Cuervo between nineteen of us. gross? maybe. absurd? definitely.)


  • At 5/18/2005 12:14 AM, Blogger Stacey said…

    Congrats on not puking ... I would've lost it. But back in the day (God, I sound old), I could party til the sun came up, catch a few hours of sleep, wake up and get to the football stadium at 10 a.m. for some serious tailgating (drinking, drinking, drinking) and be just fine. But alas - I'm not on top of my game any more.

    And you gotta love bonfires, lotsa drinks and a bunch of crazies combined. This is what you get when my old college friends get (drunk) together and party like rockstars. Not pretty.


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