You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.
Passing out before the rest of your buddies.
It’s an invitation for abuse. It’s a hallmark greeting for watch out. It’s a salute to reckless insensitivity.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one, but there’s an unwritten rule of friends and night life.
He who passes out first is at the mercy of the group.
My good friend Gonzo (pictured above) suffered the wrath of the group recently.
What did Gonzo do wrong? He made the mistake of closing his eyes at 3am while the groups’ collective eye was still open.
Big Mistake Gonzo! Gotta learn to sleep with your eyes open. It’s ok to be unconscious, you just have to learn to do it while you are still standing up.
But Gonzo didn’t do either and the group decided to take liberties with him, placing all manner of debris upon his person.
Playing cards and salad dressing and a scented candle on his slumbering form. The group put a paper hat on his head and hung signs on him he would not have liked. Through it all, he never woke up.
It was all harmless fun for a few laughs at his expense. It’s not like the poor guy did anything wrong.
His day started with a tailgate at Qualcomm Stadium for the Holiday Bowl. The game was at 7pm. The group decided to show up at 11am.
You do the math.
After 12 hours in the frigid Pacific night, the group hit a night spot in Pacific Beach where the group doesn’t go home till the bar kicks them out.
The night reminds me of a crazy man I have spoken of often on this website.
Schultzy lived by this very same credo.
He who passed out first is fair game. That’s as simple as I can state it.
Never was this more clear than a night decades ago when a guy made the mistake of passing out in front of Schultzy.
Bad move. Schultzy grabbed a stack of 20 L.A. Times Newspapers stored in the house. He proceeded to crumple each page into a softball sized ball. He threw it on the floor, and then crumpled another softball sized ball on the floor. One after another after another. Hour after hour. Schultzy didn’t stop till the entire bedroom was filled with newspaper balls six feet high.
It took hours to accomplish this feat, but Schultzy covered the floor, then the bed, then the guy who was breathing deeply like a hobo in a catatonic state.
Schultzy cackled like a madman as he admired his work. A room filled with paper balls and the pursive snoring of a drunk guy somewhere under news print 6 feet high.
Schultzy turned off the light and left. Mission accomplished. Credo protected.
I never saw that guy again. I have no idea what he thought when he woke up.
But can you imagine waking up, hung over, disoriented, surrounded by a sea of paper.
Gonzo didn’t suffer nearly this kind of newsprint wrath but he was surprised to learn that old friends have long memories and stupid rules of frat house decorum still have a place in a world occupied by crazy.