Before departing, my dad honked the horn and said, 'Check your golf bag. She held me at arm's length and made high-pitched crying noises as her eyes watered, then turned without a word and slumped dramatically down into her seat. 'Yes sir,' I said as our prolonged handshake struck an agreement between father and son.īefore getting into the car my mom swelled with sentiment, and as she fought back tears she whispered some emotional lyrics she stole from a bad country song. 'You have nothing to worry about.'īefore leaving me to confront my destiny, my dad shook my hand, looked me square in the eye, and left me with some words of wisdom. 'I'll miss you too, Mom, and I'll be fine,' I said. Your father and I love you very much and know you'll make good decisions. 'I know you'll do great things here, honey. I walked my mom to the car with my arm around her while she rambled about getting involved in student government and shoved pamphlets into the pockets of my shorts. After an hour of unpacking it was finally time for goodbyes. While my dad and I carried my dresser, flat-screen, mini-fridge, and boxed-up belongings from our trucks to my room, my mom, Debbie Prescott, lounged in the dorm lobby reading brochures about student organizations and the health center. Their fathers trudged back and forth despairingly, carrying suitcases filled with clothes that would eventually end up on the floor of some sexually inventive male classmate's bedroom. They scampered back and forth with boxes from their parents' SUVs to their rooms, eager to start their lives as independent young women. If the prospect of being freed from parental shackles wasn't enough to get me pumped about college, the hundreds of eighteen-year-old slampieces who were now my neighbors definitely did the trick. Luckily, the female scenery was enough to make it bearable. It housed over a thousand first-year students, which made moving in complete chaos. I was rooming in Manor Hall, the most sought-after dorm for incoming freshmen due to its prime location and reputation for employing lenient resident advisors. I followed them in my truck as part of my dad's strategy to delay my mom's inevitable emotional breakdown. They rode in my dad's Suburban, equipped with a trailer that contained everything I needed to recover from a hangover in comfort. My parents made the trip with me to see that I was properly set up in my dorm, and to put a small buffer between unpacking and the start of a long binge-drinking career. Ready to walk onto the field under the lights, throw up on home plate, kick the catcher in the balls, and charge the mound. High school was the minor leagues, and I was ready for the big show. WHEN I WAS GROWING UP MY DAD ALWAYS TOLD ME, 'Townes, college will be the best four years of your life.' He was rarely wrong about anything, so I couldn't have been more excited to head off to school. Identifying characteristics have been blurred to protect identities. The photos that end each chapter are real. We assure you, though, that variations of everything you're about to read are taking place in fraternities across America each and every semester. This book has been fictionalized for the sake of narrative. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at Thank you for your support of the author's rights. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property.

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