Memories of Monon

After a semester of watching some almost-high quality Division I NCAA football here at Texas A&M, the size, scope, pageantry of the Monon Bell game seems to differ greatly from the way I remember it while an undergraduate at the estimable Wabash College. But regardless of the seemingly diminishing quality of my memory, the strength of the intoxication associated with the game remains with me, and the joy of the exploits are as strong as ever.



As a freshman, the Monon Bell game was at DePauw. The morning of the game, I awoke to the pleasant sensation of orange juice and vodka screwdrivers and biscuits and gravy. As an unwitting freshman, I got severely inebriated at the Kappa Sig house without thinking of the consequence. I got on one of the many charter busses leaving Wabash College for DePauw. The realities of having to endure such a long trip while drunk on screwdrivers did not really set in, ever. The crisp fall air and nearly cloudless sky -- I did not notice these things as a result of the alcohol. It was cold, but pleasant nevertheless.

I got on the bus. Hunyadi took a plastic bottle filled with straight vodka -- that crazy bastard.

I got off the bus having to piss like a racehorse, as the expression goes. I was neatly bundled up with winter coat and a hat atop my head. I noticed that several of the upperclassmen were urinating in some bushes. The bushes were in the front yard of some poor sap's home. Not fully realizing what was going on, I went to relieve myself in said person's bushes as well. I remember that Mr. Jason Huggins was there at the bushes with me. He gleefully acknowledged my presence. When I finished, the seemingly large number (read: maybe 6?) of Wabash upperclassmen had already finished and were well on their way up the hill leading to Blackstock Stadium. I started chasing after them. My hat fell off my poor and overwhelmed head. I had to go back to retrieve it. I was severely behind the other Wabash men.

I made it back up the hill only to find some of Greencastle's uniformed finest. I'm sure that they looked at my youthful, punk ass with great amusement. They were set to give me a hard time. I radiated the essence of underage alcoholic, and I'm sure they saw it like a great beacon of light from afar, with the noticeable exception that I was right in front of them, of course.

"How old are you, son?"

"Well, I'm 21 sir."

"Is that so? Where is your I.D.?"

"Oh, I don't have it."

"That's unfortunate. You know, you sure don't look 21, boy. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Wabash College. I'm 21."

"I don't think so. Why don't you head back to those busses? You're not getting into this game. That's for certain."

"Alright sir."

I went back to the busses and saw one of the seniors from my house. Wormser told me to just hide out behind the busses until the coast was clear, and then we'd go up into the stadium. I thought that was a fantastic idea. (As if I were in any position to disagree with anyone) We went up the hill again towards Blackstock Stadium, and I enetered. The great necessity to urinate struck me again after showing my ticket and passing through the entrance to the stadium. I went into a port-a-potty and upon exiting ran into the same sheriff who stopped me atop the hill previously.

"I thought I told you that you were not allowed in here, boy."

"Uh, yah, sir."

"Don't let me catch you again."

He let me on my way, and I took a seat in the bleachers by my pledge father and his girlfriend. A lot of my fraternity brothers were in that area. Pledge Gary and his girlfriend were standing in the bleachers directly in front of me. I really don't remember much from that game. Whenever Pledge Gary would leave his seat though, I hit on his girlfriend. I didn't even say anything. I just merely massaged her shoulders. She would smile back at me. Very strange indeed.

During halftime, a sophomore in my house, Andrew Roy, was playing the role of Wally Wabash, the Wabash mascot. He got tackled pretty hard but managed to steal the head of the DePauw Tiger. The head passed through the Wabash stands before being returned.

I was sitting near the endzone where "The Catch" happened. With almost no time remaining in the game and Wabash tied with DePauw, that Jake Knott pass floated in the air before my eyes, glanced through the hands of Ryan Short and landed in the hands of Kurt Casper.

I rushed onto the field in a seeming instant, only moderately less-intoxicated from when the game began. It's weird to think that a freshman, Elisabeth Sugrue, was with the DePauw side, playing in the band, near the endzone when that play happened.

I drank from the Bell that night, a truly glorious experience.