Thursday, April 07, 2005

Ode to Carlos

Some of you may have already visited Zelda's site and read about Carlos. A few of you may also remember how Carlos puked under my pillow. But, we all love that crazy bastard. I met Carlos my second year of college. He lived in my old dorm room. Poor bastard. I decided that I wanted to see that old room and that's how we met. We invited him to our back to school party on the first weekend before classes started. Hence, a family of college drunks was born. Well, drunk on certain weekends at least.

It became clear to us that if Carlos had been drinking, it was wise for everyone to go through his room and hide all sharp objects. One night, Carlos took a razor sharp knife. He then attempted to stab through a steel chair. His hand slipped off of the grip and he sliced through his ring and pinky finger. He severed the nerve that controlled those fingers. It was about 3:00 a.m. We didn't take him to the emergency room because we knew he'd have to go through all of the bullshit paperwork and wait before he was treated. Luckily, one of our friend's father was a doctor. So, we had our friend wake his dad up in the early hours of the morning to take care of Carlos. He ended up stitching up everything, and Carlos had to undergo rehab to get use of his fingers again.

Another round of midterms came through and it was time for another party. This time, we removed all knives (butter knives included) from the party room. After several drinks, everyone reached our own levels of intoxication. Carlos grabbed his pool cue and shoved it through his door. When we asked him why he did that, he said that he wanted to see if it would make a perfect hole in the door. Okay, lesson #2. Remove anything that can be used as a weapon.

At yet another one of our dorm parties, we removed everything we thought could potentially cause harm to Carlos or anyone else. When we thought everything was safe and clear, we started our drunken night. Again, Carlos surprises us. He finds a mirror and punches the glass. Again, we had to call up our friend's father and drove Carlos out to his office to get stitched up again.

Now, the above 3 incidents were just 3 single incidents out of 4 years of partying on most weekends. I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression of Carlos. Most of the time, our parties were harmless ending with severe hangovers and lots of puking. Hell, we were young.

I remember we had a bachelor party where instead of a strip club, we went to play paintball. I remember hearing a digging sound to my right. I kept wondering what the hell that sound was. When I looked over, I saw Carlos digging himself a foxhole with a shovel that he hid in his BDU's. When I think of that moment, I smile and think to myself that Carlos should be just fine.

To see Carlos this weekend brought back a lot of memories. We were and still are a family. We watched each others' backs. We celebrated anything and everything. Carlos, after you get back from boot, we'll celebrate before you see action. Good luck and take care, bro.

A friend of ours, Carlos, and Zelda

Carlos and Me