Part IV : Memorable Moments that Memorable Moments that Could Only Happen in Plattsburgh
Halloween, Broom Ball and Vodka
Halloween in Plattsburgh
It was October, 1982. I had just seen Friday the 13th for the first time, and when Jason jumped out of that lake, I almost fell out the window. Given how frazzled my nerves were with the collapse of my chances with the Computer Girl, I should have seen what was coming next. Nonetheless, six guys on the fifth floor came up with the coolest Halloween costume ever. They dressed up as a six pack of Michelob, and despite my despair, I was completely in awe. My counter was a yellow rain slicker, and my bare chicken legs protruded outward. Shorts and a t-shirt obscured underneath, I was a flasher. The best I could do, because I couldn’t find a white hat to pull off a Gilligan outfit. Either way, I was envious as the Computer Girl’s suitor pranced in his flip top. But Halloween was a pretty crazy night, and the bars still open to 4AM, I employed my patented Bruce Springsteen move for the first time. “Like a river that had overflow, I took a wrong turn and just kept goin.” In other words, I ditched everyone without saying a word. I continue to hate the chorus of goodbyes required at night's end. Apparently, though, I did not go unnoticed on my first try, and walking up Broad Street, I sensed a stirring. I was suddenly grabbed from behind and Voorhees had to be the one accosting me. Just a little off, it was her, and the terror was quickly replaced by elation. Maybe my shot hadn’t dissipated with the late summer warmth. But reality began to set in as the moment of truth appeared in the form of Wilson Hall, and of course, I was spooked. No idea what to say or do, I left it to her to lay out my destiny. We got on the elevator, and she effortlessly pressed five and nine. I was done but the final trick was still worth the almost treat.
What Happens in Plattsburgh...
I always wanted to make sure that what happened in Plattsburgh stayed in Plattsburgh. Dirty laundry was a possibility, because I had two cousins who went to school with me. So when our fifth floor broom ball team was set to face-off against John’s team, I was concerned. The matter was complicated by the contrasts between the two teams. The Piranhas were a powerhouse, and we were upstarts at best. On the other hand, our goalie was an absolute beast, and this made us a team to be (sort of) reckoned with. Thus, we held our own, had some pretty good scoring chances and had the Piranhas looking pretty unsettled. Of course, our goalie definitely lived up. But unfortunately, I came a long and kept it in the family. My cousin led a two on one break, and as fate would have it, I was the one. Down ice, the pass came across the crease, and shock, I got my stick on the ball. Not so bad except that the deflection went solidly off my stick and past our indomitable net minder. What stays in Plattsburgh my ass, but remarkably the subject did not come up at Thanksgiving dinner. I guess my cousin knew he got off easy. Yeah, right. We just didn’t rate, and that was the only goal I ever scored.
No More Vodka - Ever
I haven’t had a sip of vodka since 1984. I have good reason. At 21 Wells, my quartet decided to have a punch party, and you guessed it, the poison was vodka. That said, the concoction went down very easy and I was feeling pretty good. So good, I deferred on the delivery system, and started drinking right out of the vodka bottle. Oh my, and everything inside me that wasn’t hunkered down, was soon on its way out. Emptied out completely, the reverse peristalsis continued, and my housemates were smart enough to take me to the emergency room. A shot in the ass and a night in the hospital, I was good as new. But I’m still never drinking vodka again.
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