We went to the beach with some friends today. I started talking with one about the first time I got drunk. Thought I’d share it here …
I was a freshman at the University of Delaware, living in Russell Hall A with two guys in a very small room. I never really drank in high school, and figured I wouldn’t drink in college, either. But, well, I had inhibitions. And the girls were hot. And I had inhibitions. And the girls were hot. So, one night early in my first semester, a bunch of guys were hosting an Around the World—where different rooms had different sorts of alcohol. I don’t recall how I started, but before long I was chugging here, chugging there, wobbling, having a gay ol’ …
I recall a few things:
• 1. I was begging the women of my hallway to rub my head. Which some did.
• 2. I couldn’t stand up properly.
• 3. One of my roommates, a kid named Anthony Marciano, had been a lacrosse star at Fordham Prep. He was a handsome, brash, cocky guy who always wore baggy shorts and carried a lax stick. Anthony and I were friendly, though once he transferred to Manhattan College we didn’t stay in touch. However, I’ll always have a soft spot for Anthony from that drunken night.
Why? My final memory was Anthony holding my forehead above the toilet, as the cold water—reflecting from the vomit—soaked my face.