Cisco, Sanford and Son, a Payphone, and Post-it Notes

It was summer 1991, and the lease on my Knox Box apartment was up. I hadn’t renewed it because I was moving into the fraternity house for the next year. So, I crashed at the frat with a few other guys until Hell Week was set to start and we would settle into our rooms.

My temporary home was room 13, right there when you walked through the front door of the house. During the semesters, this was the first stop for many people when they came to the house, and the summer was no different, except there were far fewer people around.

When I wasn’t working my summer jobs at Cluck-U Chicken or Campus Rec, I was hanging around with guys at the house. My typical downtime fun was having a 40- or 64-oz bottle of Private Stock malt liquor and a bottle of Cisco (a very strong, disgusting fortified wine) and watching some TV with the guys.

That summer, it seemed like Sanford and Son was always on, so I think I saw every episode a couple or three times. One day I was enjoying a marathon of Fred Sanford’s antics with Lance, and when the drinks kicked in, I decided I really needed to call my girlfriend.

There were no working phones in the house, so I had to gather all my change and walk across the street to a payphone. I was so psyched to talk to her as I dropped my coins into the phone. I excitedly punched in her number, which was long-distance, so I think it was like $1.50 or more for the first few minutes of the call.

My heart was beating fast as the phone rang on the other end. Then an unfamiliar voice said, “Hello.” I asked if my girlfriend was there, and the person on the other end said I had the wrong number, and they hung up.

That was it. I spent what little money I had on that call, and I was left deflated.

Then I got a great idea. I was the Secretary for the Interfraternity Council (IFC) at the time, so I hopped on my bike and rode over to the student union to call her from the IFC office. As I pedaled across the University of Maryland campus, I kept repeating her phone number in my head to be sure I got it right this time.

It was less than a mile on my bike, so after my quick ride, I locked up my bike and headed into the office. I speed-walked to the phone with a smile on my face, punched in the correct number this time, and prepared to chat.

The answering machine picked up, and I left her a message dejectedly. She had no way to call me back, so I probably wouldn’t talk to her until she came back to campus to get ready for sorority rush.

Oh well, I didn’t want this trip to be in vain, so I fired up the office computer and played Sim City for a while. After I got bored of that, I decided to head back for more hang time. On the way out the door, I saw a big stack of Post-it Notes and grabbed as many as I could for no particular reason.

I got on my bike and pedaled back across campus with one hand holding a bunch of Post-it Notes. All was well until I headed downhill on McKeldin Mall and veered off the sidewalk. With one hand on the handlebar, I went head over ass and landed in a heap.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in bed, and it was nearly midnight. Lots of hours had passed, and I guess I made it back to the frat on autopilot and climbed into bed with bloody arms and legs.

My bike made it home with me, but the Post-it Notes got lost along the way. Everyone else must have been out at the bars, so I climbed back into bed to go to sleep for the night.

Related