There are few things more important in deciding which college to attend than the overnight visit. In the early spring of 2006 Jordan visited the University of New Hampshire.
When a prospective freshmen embarks on an overnight visit of a college or university there is usually only one thing on his or her mind: partying. Jordan was similar in this respect. He would be spending Saturday night with his older brother as well as his brother’s friend Sean from college and Sean’s girlfriend. With upperclassmen guiding him, Jordan would soon be on his way to a blackout.
Natural Ice is one of those beers that seem like a well reasoned idea while one is standing in the liquor store. Economically, it cannot be beat. Each can proffers 5.9% alcohol by volume, and a thirty rack costs roughly $14. If you want to get very drunk for very cheap, look no further. However, there is a corollary. Natty Ice tastes as if it is brewed with cigarettes, and will wake you up at 8 am with a splitting headache as well as horrific vomiting. All ye enchanted by the siren Natty Ice, steer clear. You will invariably end up on the rocks.
The night began in an innocuous UNH dorm room. Guys pounded natty ice, in an effort to get well lubricated before heading out for the night. Girls furiously drinking colorful vodka drinks so sugary and diluted they were completely devoid of an alcoholic after taste. Someone received a call about a party at an apartment. The group drunkenly assembled and headed out.
Upon entering the apartment Jordan and his brother each locked eyes on the Beirut table. They called first game and went to work. Growing up on the Cape, Jordan and his brother experienced plenty of practice in the ways of Beirut. The first couple opponents were quickly dispatched with efficiency. The next few offered small challenges but no one at the party had threatened the team’s hegemony. It was at this time that the natty ice was taking its hold.
Winning in Beirut is a double edged sword. When you win, beer and praise are heaped upon you. But as you continue to win you miss out on the party. You drink far more than you would normally otherwise. If you are playing with a beer brewed by the devil himself you are sure to lose in the end.
Finally some real competition; Jordan and his brother were pitted against UNH juniors both of which looked like they started for the football team. The game was close and as such tensions ran high. Jordan, full of liquid courage called out his opponents for reaching too far across the table. His accusations were met with resistance. Quickly the situation spiraled out of control. Jordan turned to his brother and loudly proclaimed, “Dude, just tell me that I could fuck this kid up.” His brother just shook his head. “I would kick the shit out of him,” Jordan expounded. Turns out Jordan’s enemy was training for UFC. “I think we should get the fuck out of here,” said Jordan’s brother, the voice of reason.
On the way back to the dorms, a quick stop was made to Durham House of Pizza. Formally the home of dollar slices. Fuck $1.50 slices, but that is another story. Jordan and his brother quickly devolved into drunken stupors that resulted in more of the pizza ending up on the floor than eaten.
Outside Congreve Hall Jordan was hit hard by natty ice. He vomited violently all over a bench outside the building. Sources have revealed that the vomit stain remained through the end of the school year.
Eventually, Jordan was brought inside to the bathroom where his brother took care of him. Sean and his girlfriend returned to her room to sleep. Somewhere in the alcoholic haze, Jordan’s brother decided it would be a good idea to leave Jordan in the bathroom by himself. No good decisions are ever considered with a brain operating on Natty Ice.
Sometime in the night Sean was roused from his sleep and he decided to check on Jordan and his brother. He returned to the bathroom where he had left the two and found only Jordan still throwing up and looking worse for wear. Sean, like a saint, cleaned Jordan up and got him a change of clothes. Understandably, he was pissed off to find his friend soundly asleep on the futon when he returned to his girlfriend’s room. He put Jordan to sleep and hoped that the worst was over.
At 7 am three tired souls were awaken to the sound of liquid hitting plastic. Jordan had woken up and began pissing in the room’s trash can. Whether he was still blacked out or simply too lazy to go to the bathroom, no one knows.
After all that, Jordan still had to go to a UNH accepted students orientation at 8 am. He got dressed, was given directions to the orientation and sent away. His brother and Sean watched him cross the lawn to the academic building from the comfort of the dorm room. “He’ll be fine,” Jordan’s brother assured Sean.
The phone rang. “Where the hell is Jordan? The orientation’s almost over he’s nowhere to be found.”
“Shit.”
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