From the outside looking in, DePaul is *almost* incomprehensibly horrible for a major conference program in a basketball crazed major city.
One of the core of my five lifelong friends (a former papist who sent me the graphic text about Sister Jean that I posted in the Rambling game thread) was our class valedictorian and recipient of a full ride academic scholarship at DePaul. This was 1999, when they were actually relevant.
Two of the others went to ISU, I went to UI, and the fifth went to the Army. And, eventually, Iraq. Twice. We always tried to get together at one of the campuses for New Years and also around each other’s birthdays or other campus-specific events. Crazy shit always occurred.
I always had fun partying around DePaul. In fact, probably one of the wildest nights of my life happened there on NYE in 2000. There was a lot of snow on the ground and it was icy to boot. We started the night playing euchre and doing beer bongs then left for a party several blocks away at some house. I paid absolutely zero attention while we were walking there because I figured I’d be walking back with my buddies.
We got there and put our beer in the snow outside the back steps and went in. Place was packed. At some point I went back out to get a round of beers, hit the ice, and busted my ass all the way down the steps. Luckily I had enough booze and adrenaline pumping through my veins I didn’t realize I’d be sore af for at least a couple weeks after.
Eventually the countdown came and I happened to be standing by a pretty, buxom redhead. When the ball dropped and everyone was celebrating, she pulled me over and kissed me. We went upstairs into a sitting room and closed the door.
I was sitting on the end of the couch with my pants around my ankles while she was sucking me off. I was close to busting when all of a sudden the door flies open and two dudes walked in and saw us. One of them said, “What the fuck, Katie?!” and then they turned around and walked out. We then locked said door.
After we finished our business we went back downstairs. The house was almost empty and I realized my buddies had left. I can’t remember if I had a cell phone or not, but if I did I wasn’t able to get ahold of them. So I grabbed what was left of the beer and started walking the way I thought we’d came.
After walking at least 15 minutes I realized I was going the wrong way. I was able to hail a cab, but I had no idea what address or even the street to tell him. All I knew was that he lived close to the Demon Dawgs by the El, and luckily that was enough to get me there.
I don’t remember anything after getting out of the cab. The next morning I woke up on a couch in a strange apartment. No one else was there, and it was dark. I let myself out and started trying to find my way back to Tim’s place. Nothing looked familiar. Eventually I found the exit hallway, stepped out on a terrace, and recognized the courtyard where the entrance to Tim’s apartment was.
I made it to his apartment and knocked. I heard someone come to the door and pause I assume to look through the peephole. Then I heard everyone inside start laughing hysterically. I walked in and they were playing cards. They had left me because they couldn’t find me (because I was upstairs getting my cock sucked) and thought I’d gone back to Tim’s.
Tim then went over to the answering machine and played multiple hilarious messages that had been left overnight by the neighbors whose place I had crashed.
The first one was basically this drunk dude saying “hey Timmy your clown ass buddy is over here drunk af. He showed up frozen and dirty (I assume from the fall down the steps) so he’s crashing on our couch if you don’t come and get him.”
The second one was something along the lines of, “If he fucking pukes on our shit you’re better be over cleaning it up bright and early”
The third one was simply, “Hey man what’s up with you and Katie?”
After hearing that I just stood there with my mouth open (a la Bruth) thinking I got caught unknowingly fucking my buddy’s fuck buddy. Which is exactly what had happened.
So it turns out that this poor man’s Christina Hendricks was attracted to both the poor woman’s Justin Timberlake (Tim) and the very poor woman’s Nick Lachey (me). Luckily he was cool with it. Or at least acted like it.
But the point I’m trying to make is that DePaul is a good place to fall down icy stairs, get your cock sucked by horny coeds, and pass out in a stranger’s apartment. But it’s not a great place for college basketball.
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