THE IOWA PAPERS

There is an organization on campus that practices a holy annual ritual. It is wholly unhealthy, disgusting and beautiful all at the same time. I am sure that many of you will comment about similar events in which you have taken part – and I look forward to reading them. However, regardless of what others may share, I refuse to believe that I will ever see such excess and debauchery in such a systematic and organized form again as long as I might live.

The event is called Ten Man and it most definitely a proud and painful tradition:

The organization itself consists of several hundred members and is divided into sections of a few dozen people each. From within these sections, a team of the nine best drinkers is chosen. A final team member is chosen from the ranks of the alumni to round out the teams at ten apiece. Once the teams are assembled, the elders of the organization arrange for judges and assign a date, time and location for the event. Teams are responsible for bringing their own pony kegs, taps, cups and whatever else they might need. The actual object of the event is extremely simple – a whistle blows and the team of ten starts drinking from the pony keg as fast as they can. The first team to drain the keg wins. And what do you win if you binge drink faster than everybody else? Not a goddamned thing.

Okay, there were a million rules and for some reason, I can’t remember them. All I know is that it was so important to win for your section that people cheated on a regular basis. If you were on a Ten Man team and I am screwing up these rules – please e-mail or comment and I will correct them.

If you puke, you’re out. Unless you puke into your glass and drink it again (and yes, that happened a few times during the four Ten Mans I saw)

If you pour out your glass on the ground, you’re out.

If someone other than the ten people on the team drinks from the keg, your team’s disqualified

You may only go to the bathroom if a judge goes with you and stands outside the door (to listen for puking)

If you disappear for any length of time (for example…just long enough to puke) you’re disqualified

Your team must have a minimum of two women

A captain for each team is chosen by the team’s captain from the previous year

I know there are more, but the stress of competing in the event three times (or maybe two – I honestly can’t remember) caused the brain cells that used to live around those memory files to commit ritual suicide.

Unfortunately, it has all run together over the years. I remember one year it was held at the famed Aluminum Palace. I don’t remember if I competed in that one or not. Honestly, I think it might have been held there my freshman and sophomore years. At any rate, no matter where it was held, the scene was always the same. A whistle would blow and people would begin drinking silently at top speed. Most teams had eleventh and twelfth members who were in charge of pumping the tap, passing out Tums and lighting smokes. These people would mill about the team in an effort to identify those in need. Finally, somebody (usually some big fat guy like me) would start things off by hurling. I’ll never forget the year that I absent-mindedly had Chinese food for lunch the day of the event – not pretty.

One-by-one, team members would start puking out. Then two-by-two. Then three-by-three – until there was a group of about seventy pukers. One year, a dog belonging to one of the event’s hosts was seen to be running from pile to pile, chowing down on puddles of used beer and dinner. If I remember correctly, the dog’s name was Steve and by the end of the night, he ended up drunk and puking himself. Thinking back, the whole thing was kind of absurd. I wish I could do it again.

My senior year, I had the absolute privilege of being named captain. I did not take this honor lightly; we were going to win. The team consisted of Me, Billy, Steve, a couple of chicks and five other dudes. Roy was not part of the organization, but he was there to lend moral support. Marc was captain of a competing team. My team decided to start training early in the semester and began meeting once a week to pound a forty or two. We also figured out that in the grand scheme of things, the pony keg could be polished off pretty easily by only having a few beers apiece (I think it was five or eight, but I am too tired right now to do the math) and the key to victory was taking it easy and not drinking too much too fast.

After about fourteen weeks of practice, the big night finally came. Our team showed up right before the whistle with a keg of Coors Light (strategically chosen as the beer most like water). We had eaten relatively light lunches early in the day. We had our keg pumper, our Tums dispenser and our smoke lighter…we were ready. The whistle blew and everybody started to drink frantically…except us.

We were having a great time – just drinking, talking it up and hanging out. I was pretty confident that our strategy of taking it easy was going to pay off…until we started getting our asses kicked.

When it became clear that Marc’s team was leaving us in the dust and only a couple of their guys had puked out, we decided to pick up the pace. As captain, I tried to shoulder the lion’s share and threw back four or five cups in a matter of a few minutes. Of course, my stomach began to churn almost immediately after the last drop hit my digestive tract. I had to step back and hold my breath to try and keep everything from coming back up. When I regained my composure, I looked around to see how everybody was doing. A judge picked up Marc’s keg and confirmed that they were almost finished. I picked up our keg only to find that it was more than half full. I had to get back into the game.

I cautiously threw back a couple more cups and started conceding defeat in my mind. I guess this just wasn’t my year. Sucks…

At that very moment my team was saved by the glorious flashing lights of a cop car coming down the alley toward the back yard that hosted this year’s event. All the under-age kids scattered like roaches while the rest of us tried to finish our kegs and claim victory before the cops broke the party up. I was still drinking when a female cop engaged me in conversation.

“Whose party is this?” asked the cop.

“I dunno.” I managed to grumble between gulps.

“You need to leave, “ said the cop.

“No, thanks”

“Wanna leave in my car?”

I smiled and said, “Nope, I’m gonna stay here.”

“Why are you at this party if you don’t know whose party this is?”

I finally looked her right in the face and said, “Look lady, I appreciate your sarcasm and everything, but I am of legal age and I am enjoying the company of my friends at a private residence – I’m not going anywhere!”

The cop reached back for her cuffs and started advancing toward me. At the last possible second, Steve and Billy and a couple of other guys grabbed me and told the cop that they would get me out of there. The cops always win. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that she was threatening me while standing in a puddle of eighteen year old girl vomit.

Man I miss college…

Love,

JRM