One of the first things we (the eight residents of our dorm suite) did that year was institute a game using a Twister Board spinner—a game we dubbed … Twister Board. The game was simple and direct and went something like this: someone would yell “Twister Board,” state a consequence and then spin the board. Whosever picture the needle landed on (we had placed a school photo of each of us on the board) had to carry out the consequence, no questions asked. We even shook hands with spit to make it official and non-negotiable.

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Episode I

“Twister Board! Loser has to strip down to his underpants and socks, tie a cape around his neck, and skip around the dorm balcony with a trophy singing “Aquarius”… six times.” Boy, what a doozy right out of the gate. I hadn’t realized things would get this crazy when I signed up, but bring it on. It was my senior year, and I was ready for anything. Well, almost anything. Someone stepped up to the Twister Board spinner mounted on the wall and gave the arrow a good flick. Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. (That’s the sound of the needle spinning if you hadn’t guessed.) The spinner slowed down and came to rest on … Ames. Ames Holbrook was a sophomore who was training to be an Army officer. He wanted to be an Airborne Ranger, and for an ROTC guy, he was game for pretty much anything. I was just glad it was him and not me. I think, secretly, Ames was happy it was him. He took on his consequence with gusto and didn’t waste any time stripping down to his socks and skivvies, fashioning a cape out of a bed sheet, and grabbing his trophy prop. (We just happened to have a trophy handy for occasions like this.) He flung open the door, spilled out onto the balcony, and away he went, merrily skipping along and proudly holding up his trophy as he butchered the song “Aquarius” from the musical Hair. It was a sight to behold, and we didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry. He seemed to relish it, so we laughed. By Ames’ third trip around the balcony, the entire floor had come out of their rooms to witness the spectacle, laughing and taking pictures for posterity’s sake. I didn’t need photos for posterity because the image of Ames skipping around the balcony in his drawers and a cape had been emblazoned on my brain forever. By Ames' sixth trip, a crowd had gathered below and was cheering him on. I’ll be damned, good for him. Still, better him than me. 

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Episode II

“Twister Board! Loser has to spend the night in a sleeping bag in front of the neighbors’ door.” Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. (That’s the sound … oh, never mind). And the loser is … Ames. Ouch! 0-for-2. He was batting .000 and not starting well with Twister Board challenges. Even the worst batter lucks out and gets a hit now and then. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut occasionally (probably not the right idiom). Ames couldn’t win for losing. Around 11:00 pm that night, Ames set up his sleeping bag right in front of the neighbors’ door (the same stuck-up women from the previous year), crawled in, and fell asleep. Ames had chosen the women on my side of the dorm because they were much bitchier than the ones on his side. The dorm doors opened inward, but the screen doors opened outward, meaning the women of Irby 205 weren’t going anywhere without getting past Ames. A few hours later, I awoke to a commotion outside and heard what sounded like people arguing. I poked my head out the door and spied one of the neighbor women and her boyfriend yelling at Ames, who acted as if it was perfectly normal for him to be wedged against their screen door in a sleeping bag. They were pissed at Ames for obvious reasons, and he was pissed at them for rousting him from his deep slumber. A standoff ensued, but Ames finally relented and removed himself from in front of the neighbors’ door. It seemed we didn’t need the Twister Board. We could give Ames any insane task, and he’d do it willingly. It takes a certain kind of person to be an Airborne Ranger—tough, courageous, disciplined—and slightly off-kilter. Ames would make a great Ranger because he was all four. 

 

Episode III

As I said before, Barrett was a significant coke dealer, and one of us had to go. And I may have mentioned to Ames that I was looking to either get a new roommate or get the hell out of Irby 203, now a notorious campus drug den. Ames and I seemed more compatible as roomies, so we hatched a plan … “Twister Board! Losers have to swap dorm rooms.” Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. And the first loser is … Mike, Ames’ roommate. Yes! Oops, I couldn’t seem too eager. Barrett had no idea how much I wanted out of 203. He was too busy getting high. The first part of our equation had been solved. Now for part two. If the Twister needle landed on my face, I was home free and out of the drug den for good. Bldldldldldldldldldldldld. The needle took its sweet time, landing on a victim. I’m happy to report when it finally did, the sorry sap was me. Hell yeah, baby! The deed was done. The only drawback was having to move all my shit but fuck it; beggars can’t be choosers. I grabbed my stuff, waved Barrett goodbye, and headed out of the drug den for good. Irby 204, here I come.

 

Note: Barrett eventually fled campus, never to be heard from again. It seems the feds got wind of his drug operation and were tightening the screws. His new roommate, Mike, wasn’t so lucky. He got swept up in the drug bust and ended up doing hard time in a forced labor camp in Pointe aux Chenes. Good thing I got out of 203 when I did.

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—from Stupid Sh*t We Did in College … (and stuff)