To Hell I Ride: When a Life Examined Became Worth Living by Jason Carter

Author:Jason Carter [Carter, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lioncrest Publishing
Published: 2022-01-11T05:00:00+00:00

16

Jivey League Material

Less than a week after fleeing Santa Barbara, I arrived in Norman, Oklahoma. Without the sedative benefits stemming from a full-frontal lobotomy, the sudden change in scenery did to my nervous system what ten gallons of vomit can do to a five-gallon urn.

But enrolling at the University of Oklahoma topped my new and improved list of sensible reasons to pursue higher education: to spite my father.

If you recall, my dad bleeds Nebraska red. An incurable disorder which goaded him to rank the Viet Cong guerrillas patrolling the Ho Chi Minh Trail as better folks than the criminals affiliated with Sooner football.

For this reason, enrolling at OU equipped me with a weaponized talking point, providing an immediate boost to the depleted emotional arsenal I depended on for protection during the dogfights specific to our fractured relationship’s endless war. Arming me with counteroffensive firepower, topical and easy to deploy, perfect for neutralizing our combative phone conversations before things escalated. So instead of skirting calls, my refreshed battle plan called for deploying my college name into the phone’s mouthpiece, audibly ramming the revolting words right up his ass.

Imagining our call on Thanksgiving, as the Sooners pistol-whipped his dumbstruck Cornhuskers like rural perverts caught groping sheep, filled my heart with festive warmth kindred to holiday blessings, gratitude, and blinding joy.

But because I spent the summer in California starring in an art-house production of Father Knows Best on Acid, I missed out on freshman orientation, making me the one student out of ten thousand who missed the campus tour, didn’t register for a single class, and lacked an ID card, which administrators encouraged new students to always carry to avoid getting gunned down by a campus posse of Keystone Cops. However, I did manage to join a top fraternity.

I long aspired to be a part of all the brotherly hazing I learned about listening to stories told by my dad and the older guys I idolized from my high school. But in real life, soon, I found the rituals associated with pledgeship as proficient at undercutting my collected enthusiasm about college life as mystery meat served in the student cafeteria.

Whenever an active member bawled me out (often), my mind tended to wander off and deliberate over things like dinner, which girl to take on a date, and if the red-faced putz screaming in my face got tired of sizing his dick up to a crayon.

When I considered essential topics like this and thought about the million other activities happening on and around a college campus, opting in for a semester of fraternal abuse left me with a scorching case of buyer’s remorse. And since the incessant chatterbox inside my head made all the obnoxious and nasty things these boys screamed at me sound like love-struck sonnets, their time got devalued too.

In less than a month, when I got comfortable using the campus map, I went straight to the registrar’s office and dropped every class. Then I started sleeping until three in the afternoon, lacking the power needed to slide out of bed.

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