Sophomore Stories Part IX "The Designated Driver"

The Fall 1993 Semester at KU ended on a Monday. This meant that unless you were one of the unfortunate souls who happened to have a final exam scheduled for Monday, you had already left for winter break.
I did not have a final on Monday...I did however have to work on Monday at my little job in the computer lab downstairs. So I, along with 6 others on the floor, hung around all weekend.
I remember too that I was sick this particular weekend, dealing with a bout of nasty nasal congestion. Upon retiring for the evening on Saturday, I took an antihistamine to ease my labored breathing and to help me fall asleep. I quickly fell asleep under the influence of some powerful, over-the-counter medication.
2:14 am...the phone rings...I let the machine pick it up.

"John, um, this is Scott...GUYS, SHUT UP, I'M ON THE PHONE! Hey, we're at Benchwarmers, SHUT UP!!! we're at Benchwarmers and we need someo...IF YOU GUYS DON'T SH...GAWD...can you come pick us up because we're all too drunk to drive home."

At this point a million questions are running through my fuzzy brain. Should I pick up the phone? Or should I let him call someone else? What if they can't find anyone else? What if they decide to drive home and wreck? What if someone gets hurt or dies?
I end up picking up the phone. "Scott, where are you? Benchwarmers...ok wait there, I'm on my way."

I repel down from my sleeping perch and evaluate my condition. I was clearly medically sedated. I wasn't so sure I was in any shape to be driving. I popped in my contact lenses, threw on a hat and some jeans and took off.

I arrive at Benchwarmers, a cozy sports bar over by Colony Woods, about minutes later. I'm 19 years old, and I look at least 3 years younger than that. I'm wondering how exactly I'm going to even get past the front door to let them know I'm here when they come stumbling out. Here's who 'they' are...all are 5th floor residents.

Scott-> 23-year-old Freshman, non-traditional student from Denver whom I just met in August.
Jason-> Sophomore who once partied with Punky Brewster. Borderline alcoholic.
Brian from across the hall->Sophomore who drinks a lot of beer.
Shocker->Freshman who lives down at the other end of the hall.
***I'd tell you Shocker's real name except I don't remember it. I know him only as 'Shocker' because that's what everyone called him. He earned this dubious title when, early in the semester, he was digging through a dumpster for some reason and stumbled upon a discarded heart defibrillator. He thought it wise to haul this medical marvel up to his room and proceeded to plug it in and administer a pulse on his leg. The shock threw him to the ground and left two giant welts. From that day forward, he was known as Shocker.***

The gang of four sauntered their way over to my car. Scott, the smallest of the four makes his way to the Maxima first and promptly yells out "shotgun!" This throws Shocker, he's about 6'3" and 230lbs, into a frenzy. He yells at Scott and threatens to beat him up but drunk Scott insists that because he 'called' it, he should get to ride shotgun even though the most logical thing to do is have Shocker ride shotgun because he's the biggest and the other three would be more comfortable during the trip up to the dorm.
It takes us about ten minutes to get Shocker calmed down...all the while Scott has taken up position in the passenger seat and is yelling things like "man it sure is comfortable up here!" and "I've got a great view out of the windshield!"
Eventually, Shocker, Brian and Jason squeeze into the back seat and we head home.
On the way, Scott starts telling me about how he knew me before I got religious and how I wasn't going to church and me and him would hang out (remember, I've known this guy 4 months) and I'm trying to convince him this isn't true when I finally learned designated driver proverb, "Never argue with someone who's drunk." Scott got so frustrated with me denying his story he started pushing random buttons on my car stereo saying "take THAT!" and then laughing/yelling. Meanwhile, Shocker has passed out and the other two guys are occupying less than half of the entire backseat.
Upon arrival at the dorm, Jason and Brian wake Shocker up to let him know we're home. Usually, at 3 in the morning, we'd have to park 100 yards away, but because everyone was gone, we parked right in front of the building, approximately 10 yards from the door. Well, Shocker decided that we parked too far away for him to hold it any longer and proceeded to relieve himself behind my car. We all waited patiently and made our way up the steps until Shocker fell off the steps into a giant evergreen bush where he laid peacefully. Scott totally freaked out and started yelling at him to get up while Jason, Brian and I try to pull him up. We get him on his feet and go inside.
From 7am to 11pm, you're free to enter and exit the dorm as you please, but from 11pm to 7am, you can only enter the front door and only then with a valid student ID. Because it's 3am, the friendly security folks want to see our IDs. Scott, still suffering from the effects of seeing Shocker tumble into the hedge, gives the student security people a lecture about the ID policy.
"But you guys know me! I come in here every night! Why do I have to keep showing you my ID?!?"
Security wouldn't budge. Even as Scott delivered his angry monologue, he stumbled dangerously close to crossing the security line and as he did, the growing audience moved in to stop him (or catch him).
Scott finally relented, "OK, but this is the LAST TIME!!!" They scanned his precious student ID and I had almost completed my mission of delivering these guys to their rooms.
When you enter Ellsworth dorm from the street, you're not on the first floor, but rather the 3rd floor (don't ask) so our 5th floor rooms are only up two flights of stairs. We would often give grief to anyone lazy enough to take the elevator to the 5th floor...but tonight, we took the elevator.
Being inside an ancient elevator with four drunk guys is not an experience I'm anxious to repeat. Upon the elevator door closing, all four guys started yelling and banging on the walls and creating chaos. This was the most fearful part of the trip for me. I mean these guys went absolutely bananas. You'd have thought the elevator was filling up with water and we needed to be rescued.
In what seemed like a lifetime, the elevator made its way up to our familiar 5th floor lobby and Scott took off with Brian and Shocker to start banging on doors and yelling down the hall. Jason stayed behind and walked with me to my room, the first on the right.
As we said goodbye, he reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a beer mug (presumably from Benchwarmers) and handed it to me. "Thanks for picking us up, man," he said.
"You're welcome," I replied.

To this day I have that mug, perched among many other decorative glasses. It is the only one without a name of a restaurant or bar. It stands apart as a reminder of my first, and most memorable experience as a designated driver.