Bragging Rights.

For some reason I started thinking about my college days and was reminded how it’s amazing that I’ve made it to forty-four. How each year we all survive we should be so thankful and boast about it! Why are there so many of us that hate to have a birthday past eighteen. When really we should all be bragging!

I always think, by god, I’ve survived another year, whoo-hoo!

Maybe it’s because of things that have happened to me along the way. Some of them sure make for good stories. One such incident happened when I was a sophomore in college.


The Time I Got My Head Cracked Open by a Beer Bottle.

Above the drugstore in the small college town of Morehead, there lived several fraternity boys. To me, so young and silly, all frat boys were cute and these were no exception. Restless and looking for action my girlfriend and I decided to go visiting.

It was a short walk across campus to that side of town where she and I planned to see our favorite two frat boys who roomed together.

We climbed the wide stairway that led to the apartments in the upper part of this old brick building, and with a sudden spark of inspiration knocked on their door and ran.

Ducking around the corner, at the bottom of the stairwell, we were well hidden. One of the guys opened the door and looked out. Didn’t see anything and hollered, “Hey, who’s knocking on our door?” Naturally we thought that was pretty funny so we waited and snuck back up to try it again.

We couldn’t keep from giggling. This was just too funny -- hey, we were silly, small town girls -- this was as wild as it got for us!

Well this time one of the guys was waiting, and the door burst open. We went flying down the stairs laughing and running as fast as we could with this big guy in hot pursuit. He caught us at the bottom of the stairs. Putting one of us under each arm, roaring, “I’ve got you now!” and started carrying us up the stairs.

We played our parts well with kicking and screaming to be let down. Looking up I saw the other roommate who announced that we had been very naughty and were about to be punished. With that a black bag of garbage was hurled on our heads, and another, and…

Just as another was being prepared for firing down on us, the guy carrying me yelled, “Stop, Jean’s hurt!”

I wasn’t sure what was happening all I knew was my head hurt and it suddenly felt very warm. That’s when I noticed the blood dripping down my face.

In shock the guy set down my girlfriend and scooped me up in his arms, hurrying me up the upstairs and placing me on their couch. I’d been hit with a beer bottle from one of the bags of garbage and I was bleeding like a stuck pig.

Among the guys now standing over me was a premed major who took over telling everyone, you do not pour anything on a head wound, as others debated on whether my scalp should be cleaned with hydrogen peroxide or not.

It was decided that I be given aspirin for my headache and be entertain and kept awake to make sure I didn’t have a concussion. So we had an impromptu “Jean Got Her Head Cracked Open” party.

Surrounded by the clowns of the fraternity I was sung to by a guy with a ukulele, given an theatrical performance of what guys will do for free pizza, as well as being pampered and fed whatever could be found in the fridge. With the guys drinking and singing through the night we passed the time.

Finally when I was delivered home to my dorm, I got a good look at myself. I was amazed my whole head of hair was orange! Later that afternoon I cleaned up and decided to try to make it to one of my classes. Guess I did have a little concussion because I never made it there, but passed out on the sidewalk, where a couple students found and took me back to my room.

I really never considered myself a wild girl but now that I look back I realize I do have some pretty wild stories to tell about biker bars out in the middle of nowhere, bootleggers, fighting with bouncers, dating identical twin brothers, and even my accidental burning down of a frat house. (Yet another fraternity I reeked havoc with)