Is it honestly May 2006? This is a year and day that the Lush never really believed would actually come. But here it is: graduation (the Dirty G, as my roommates and I have taken to calling it).
The Lush has had a very nostalgic May, my friends. It really began when I was watching the Tuftonia's Day fireworks dead sober - shocking, I know - with some of my best friends. Somewhere between climbing up onto the amorphous bronze statue in front of Carmichael and seeing that one firework that hit Houston, I realized that, for someone who applied early decision to another college, the Lush really ended up falling in love with this place.
So here they are, the last words you'll read from this Lush. Sometime between wrangling your family members, posing for pictures, shaking off your last hangover of college and listening to Larry and Lance, I hope you find a few minutes to reminisce with me. Speaking of Lance - dude, what happened with Sheryl?
I really started brainstorming this column just before getting asked to leave Carmichael brunch the morning of this year's Spring Fling. The Lush gave a rousing and probably too-loud speech/toast, and the swipey lady was not so amused.
Anyway, here's a more fleshed-out version of that farewell. Hopefully you will not find it as "disrespectful" as she did.
It's last call, seniors - time for nostalgia. I've traveled from Miller to Professor's Row to Powderhouse Pub and beyond; in fact, I think I have drunk in almost every building on this campus. Including Goddard - sorry, Father O'Leary.
I want to thank all of you for the last four years - even the people I don't particularly like. The Lush has changed a whole lot in her years on this Hill, and she wouldn't change a day of it - even the crap.
If you're like me - and I'm sure most of you are - in the past four years, you've gone out and gotten drunk and belligerent, cried, puked, passed out and blacked out - probably more times than you can count... or remember. But there have been even more times that were drama-free, vomit-free and just plain awesome.
I've had hook-ups, break-ups and make-ups. I fell in love, got my heart broken, and then actually fell in love. Then actually got my heart broken. Then figured out it would all be okay - alcohol helped with that.
I have had good professors, great advisors, taken great classes, pushed myself and been pushed by others. I have gotten drunk when I should have been studying. For that matter, I have studied when I should have been getting drunk. There are nights I forget that I wish I could remember. There are nights I remember that I would prefer to forget.
I have made some absolutely amazing friends: friends who I have painted the cannon with, had drunken photo shoots on Jumbo with, run NQR with, made the tour of frat basements and off-campus house parties with, and had countless memories that I couldn't even describe to you. But you don't need the Lush to tell you that. You already know; you each have a million of your own.
You don't need to hear about all the good times in the common room of second floor, Miller Hall, east side '02-'03. Although they were damn good times; I remember one epic snowball fight in particular. Or about sophomore year when I was a Peer Academic Leader and my partner and I played a drinking game with our Nalgenes during the "Many Stories, One Community" assembly. Or about drinking on the back porch at 288 or afternoon Beirut and BBQs in the backyard at 15.
You don't need to hear about the night of Four in a Bed, guacamole, the Lush being someone's favorite pirate, learning the dance to Jordan Knight's "Give It To You," one ridiculous afternoon spent raising hell at Target, gargoyles, stealing Christmas from Carmichael (don't ask), sparklers, rocking D.A.R.E. t-shirts at the middle school party, Labor Day Disaster 2005, Bridge Ten, Ecto Cooler, Se?±or Frog's, a certain brush with the law behind Mugar Hall, my lost necklace sophomore year, a million late-night heart-to-hearts, late nights at Espresso's, pub nights, dance parties, Jell-O shots, power hours, playing Beirut any night (or afternoon...or morning, for that matter) that we could get our hands on a sleeve of Solos and a couple ping pong balls, or about how I no longer drink J?¤germeister, Cossack vodka, Kappy's brand gin or any flavored vodka or rum.
As I have found out, people are sick of hearing about my two life-changing summers spent digging in the Italian dirt with fellow Jumbos. That's okay; you wouldn't understand anyway. But, on that note, Scopa, "ci vuole billo," boozeball, flaming sambuca shots, Commie Bar, "You're not fooling anyone," beach abs, drinking in the Campo, BTE and Naked Archaeology Day. Please also note that there are no chimichangas in San Chimichanga.
And somewhere, through all that, I found time to go to class, to spend way too much time in the Curtis Hall basement and not nearly enough in Tisch, to drink too much coffee, to write my papers, study for my exams and make my parents proud. If I didn't, I don't think they would enjoy this column quite as much as they do.
My parents have shown a remarkable capacity for amusement and bemusement this past year, by the way. Now that I'm an "adult," I'm realizing I have a pretty amazing family.
Luckily, we have plenty to remember these four years by. If you are like the Lush, you believe that all the stuff we've accumulated along the way is more important than the diploma you'll be getting later today. Somehow I have accumulated a handful of drunk scars, a few extra pounds (thanks a lot, Keystone Light), dozens of friends (hundreds if you go by Facebook), thousands of pictures, millions of memories and more T-shirts than I know what to do with.
And so what if it all seems like a drunken haze? So what if our BAC was rarely lower than our stellar GPAs? So nothing. People shake their heads at the stereotype of the "college student." But I am proud to have been that college student. We all worked hard (some harder than others), and we deserved to cut loose.
Because guess what? Starting today, we are grown-ups...all of us (again, some more than others). And a hangover doesn't count as a good enough excuse anymore; it's a good thing we got so much practice at fighting them in the last four years.
So where does that leave the Lush now, at last call? Surprisingly, I do have a job - a damned decent one, at that. I am moving to town to live with my cousin.
In case you are all worried that I am getting too serious or too sober, said cousin was present the first time the Lush ever drank alcohol. And by present, I mean to say she held me down and poured rum down my throat. So I'm still in the game.
So let's not think of this last call as the end. The Lush chooses to think of it as a gateway to after-work drinks, weekends without homework to impede our imbibing, and actually having money to spend on those drinks. Yes, folks, this means we don't have to drink the Beast or Kappy's brand anything anymore. This is a good thing.
With that, I bid you all arrivederci with one final OOOOH Six!, a Pax et Lux, a good luck and a hearty Cheers. See you guys at Homecoming 2006.
