Here are some of the categories I would have included in my own personal best and worst…
Best night out at Fairfield: Sophomore year, some Friday in November. I started the festivities with my roommate/psychiatrist/moral supporter of the time, Kristen Weissenger. We ventured over to Regis and walked into three miscellaneous rooms, acquiring such objects as a box of wine, bow and arrow, and trucker hat. During the course of the night, I was in open violation of a half dozen rules and regulations as outlined in the public safety handbook, but as of yet no judicial action has been taken.
Worst night out at Fairfield: Junior year, first semester. I started the festivities by waiting 45 minutes for a taxi down to the beach, only to walk around in the rain, roughly eight miles, to parties that were eluding our efforts. We waited another 20 minutes for a cab to return to campus wet and cranky. Then we made popcorn, which caught fire and set off the smoke alarm, bringing campus security, where their investigation discovered our two stolen campus saw horses, bringing a 10-hour community service penalty.
Best game to play in the dorms: Hit that… It’s a game that appears menial and is both competitive and addictive. The game consists of two players, each standing roughly 15 feet apart with a type of bottle at their feet. Players statically roll a tennis ball in an attempt to knock over their opponents bottle. It’s great for several reasons: A) The cost of playing is minimal to whatever “stuff” that can be found in a dorm room to knock over. B) It will divert guys from causing destruction in a dorm room and participate in a constructive activity.
Worst game to play: Hide the random object. Not cool, especially when milk is hidden in discreet places, found much later, after it becomes so foul smelling that it is decided the smell cannot be coming from dirty laundry.
Best place to cure a hangover: Barone on a Sunday afternoon, especially the days they serve tater tots. You can sit for hours and debrief friends, while watching to see others stumble in.
Worst place: The library on a Sunday afternoon. Hot flashes and headaches are not conducive to pouring over books in a three-by-four foot cubicle.
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