UC-Davis reporter journeys into heart of rush week

[LXAAlum]

By Stan Oklobdzija

The California Aggie (U. California-Davis)
01/29/2003
(U-WIRE) DAVIS, Calif. -- Last year, I had a vision. As a young and naive first-year student, I became mesmerized by the bold Greek letters emblazoned on the exterior walls of manor homes. I'd hear the thunderous sounds of glorious parties emitting from behind black tarp coverings on my way back to my residence hall, and I had to know more. I heard rumors, both bad and good, but the real story behind fraternity life continuously eluded me. If I were ever to find it, I'd have to take matters into my own hands.
I started watching those in the matching hooded sweatshirts, noting their mannerisms, practicing their speech in the mirror late at night. Slowly, I tried to become one of them. I had a quest which became a journalistic endeavor. I would crack the enigma of the fraternity man. Who was he? What motivated him? What went on behind the cut-up black trash bags?

"You're out of your goddamned mind," is what everybody told me when I told them about my plan. "They're going to beat the crap out of you when they find out," is usually what followed. Still, I had a mission.

During fall rush week, I posed as a prospective rush, putting all of my previous fieldwork to the test. I would blend in perfectly among them, and I would finally understand who they were, and what it meant to be a member of a fraternity. Of course, there were dangers, but I would gladly lay down my life for the sake of college journalism.

I thought of Hunter S. Thompson posing as a Hell's Angel. I thought of Robert Capa storming the beaches of Normandy. If I was going to be intimidated about posing as a prospective fraternity boy, then I should look for another profession. Maybe I should start learning how to knit...

So there I was, bounding down Russell Boulevard at 8 p.m. on an otherwise normal Monday night, wearing pressed white khakis and a blue checkered Eddie Bauer shirt that wasn't even mine. I stunk of Old Spice and determination. I would see this through until the bitter end.

Night One: Theta Chi, Luau Night with the Lady Friends of Theta Chi

Upon arrival, they greeted me with firm handshakes.

"Interested in rushing?" asked one of the two brothers with red hooded sweatshirts bearing the emblem of the fraternity.

I nodded affirmatively, trying desperately to blend in among people I had never met. I was ushered quickly inside.

"We got a new rushee," said another brother who quickly passed me off to a guy with a camera.

"Stand there in the light," he said.

I tried to look as imposing as possible, but something gives me the feeling it didn't quite work out as well as I had hoped. Amazingly, photographers themselves are the least photogenic people imaginable, and I prove to be no exception.

"Thanks a lot," he said, waving the Polaroid in the air. "Have you tried the roast pig?"

I looked to my right and saw the remnants of a skewered pig being hacked into delectable bite-sized pieces.

"No, not yet," I said.

"Let's get you a nametag first."

As we bonded over some of the best roast pork I'd eaten in a while, the Theta Chi president asked, "So what brings you to Theta Chi?"

I had been rehearsing this line in the mirror for weeks. It was the axis of my disguise. Clearing my throat, I began.

"Well, I'm basically looking for something new. The idea of being a part of something so tight-knit really sounds great to me. I mean, it's not like I don't have friends now, but I was kind of looking for a new crowd and a new sense of belonging. You know what I mean?"

He nodded approvingly.

"You know what the best part of being in a fraternity is?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"It's the fact that you get to live in a house with your best friends in the world. Not only that, but you make friends with their friends, and pretty soon you know almost everyone on campus. It's a real good feeling.

"By the way, are you a baseball fan?" he asked.

We moved outside and sat down on one of the couches set up facing a large screen TV. It was the Giants vs. the Cardinals, and I was hoping no one asked me any questions about either team because I don't know the first thing about baseball. Still, it was male bonding at its finest, and I would not let the opportunity pass me by. It was deep in the seventh inning, and the Giants were ahead by two. I feigned deep interest and tried making casual conversation with those around me.

The guy on my right turned to me and asked, "So, are you a new rush?"

"Yeah," I said.

He continued, "Oh, man, the stories I could tell you about this place."

"Hopefully, I'll be hearing these stories soon."

"Hopefully, you'll be making some of them."

When the Giants won by two runs, I decided to call it a night. I found the president to wish him goodbye.

"Nice meeting you, man. Come by tomorrow; we've got a bungee bull rented out, and the Tri Delta girls are going to be coming by," he said.

I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Night Two: Sigma Alpha Mu, Human Bowling and Bungee Race with Kappa Gamma Delta

I had planned on attending the rush events of Delta Sigma Phi that evening, as there was the issue of The Famous Delta Sig Nacho Mountain that I felt would make an excellent photo opportunity. As I drove past the house at about 8:30 p.m., I saw the sign being pulled back inside and the lights gradually being dimmed. It appeared the famous nacho mountain would not find a place into either my story or my heart. It was time to seek out an alternative.

The Sigma Alpha Mu house had all that I was looking for -- loud music, girls and human bowling. I had a feeling that John Belushi was smiling in his grave. I was stopped at the door by a brother who took it upon himself to give me a tour of the house. After explaining to me the vagaries of the dues system, the housing situation, and the "Sammy" interpretation of brotherhood, I was handed a cup of punch and dumped off before a throng of dancing girls.

In preparation for this endeavor, I asked a good friend of mine, a sorority girl herself, about what I should do if I ever found myself alone and confused at one of the rush events.

"Make yourself the center of attention," she said. "Or else hit on everything with breasts."

I took her advice; but after only being met with confused grins, giggles or total disinterest, I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere on my charm alone. I wandered outside toward the bungee racing course and introduced myself to some of the other brothers. We watched as two girls tried repeatedly to strap themselves into the bungee harness. Fighting a losing battle, the girls finally gave up and resigned themselves to simply jumping up and down upon the inflated mattress.

"You want to race this guy?" said one of the brothers, pointing to a fellow rushee.

I looked over my competition. He was about 250 pounds of pure muscle, with shoulders as broad as I am tall. Putting on my best John Wayne face, I accepted the challenge. Like two gunfighters about to duel at high noon, we strapped ourselves into the bungee race.

The first race was a draw. Each of us dropped our paddle as soon as the bungee cord jerked back. The second race went to my opponent, beating me by at least a foot. The sting of defeat helped egg me on to win the third. It all came down to this one.

We put our backs against the wall and awaited the count. On three, we sprung from the gates like Olympic sprinters. I was beaten soundly, and all backs were turned on me as I walked off the course in defeat. Being both a quitter and a sore loser, I decided to make my way back to Theta Chi to catch the last act of sorority girls on the bungee bull. Yet when I arrived, the elusive Tri-Delts had already fled. My pride wounded and my dreams shattered, I called it a night and went home to nurse my wounds.

Night Three: Theta Xi, Casino Night with the Ladies of Delta Delta Delta

I decided to end my journey into the heart of rush week with a touch of class. Scanning the postings and placards around campus, I came upon exactly what I was looking for: Casino Night. I pictured men in tuxedos huddled around roulette wheels while women in black cocktail dresses smoked cigarettes on long-stemmed holders and looked remarkably disinterested.

I showed up at 8:15 p.m. and was greeted by another set of firm handshakes. But this time, instead of a plate of roast pig or a glass of punch, I was handed a questionnaire.

"Fill it out," a brother said. "And I'll give you a tour of the house."

I stared down at the paper before me.

"What is your favorite food, movie, band, beer, team, sport, type of girl?"

I pondered writing "beer" for all of them and seeing how far that would get me, but decided against it. I hastily filled out the form, threw it onto the table and was then taken through the triad of Theta Xi housing.

I was being led onto the porch when another brother pulled my guide aside, which struck me as a little odd. I found a group of brothers congregated on the porch, and I began making small talk. All the while, the two brothers were looking back cautiously at me, talking in a staccato whisper. The others sensed my interest.

"Apparently someone from [The California] Aggie is going around to all the frats doing a story," he said.

I played it off as cool as I could, a trying experience after one has just been kicked in the pants.

"You don't say?" I said with stunned surprise.

"Yeah, apparently it's all on the down low or something," he said.

I gave somewhat of a dumbfounded nod. I could sense they were on to me. My nametag told the world who I was, and whoever decided to blow the whistle on me probably didn't forget to include my name. I thought of making a break for the door, but soon decided against it, favoring the calm approach.

"So, I hear this is Casino Night," I said, looking inside at the rows of unoccupied tables with cards and poker chips strewn all about them.

"Yeah, it was for a while. We had the Tri-Delts over for a while, but they all decided to go home. It's a school night or something," said the brother closest to me.

I grunted scornfully, which was met by similar gestures from all within earshot. My James Bond fantasy all shot to hell, I was feeling disappointed.

"So, what's with all the crappy beer you serve at your parties?" I said.

A guy wearing a baseball cap answered.

"The thing is, when you're buying beer for like 800 people, you can't afford to go better than PBR or Natty Ice."

He gestured to the attic overhang by the first house and said, "That's where we keep all the gourmet shit."

I committed it to memory, knowing next time exactly where to look.

"What about the pledge process?" I said. "Don't they make you do some really hairy stuff?"

The question was met with smiles.

"Of what [I] can tell you, it was the best time of my life -- that I hope I never have to do again," said the guy on my right.

"You ever hear of the soggy cookie?" I said.

They pretended as if they didn't hear me.

"It's just stuff that makes you close like brothers. I'd say it really brings out the best in you," he continued.

Everyone nodded approvingly, including me, although I was just trying to fit in.

I scanned the backyard area and found the brothers, along with a couple of rushees, playing basketball on the outdoor hoop. It was hardly the snippet of Girls Gone Wild I had been expecting when I set out to do this. Where was the excessive drinking and casual sex I was searching for? Where was the stuff that fills the pages of Maxim?

I excused myself and headed for the sanctuary of home. Apparently, I had found what I was looking for, and it turned out to be not at all what I had expected.

I had searched for the John Belushis and Van Wilders, but only found regular guys approaching the chasm of college social life in a different way.

I went to the heart of the fraternity boy and found that beneath all the stereotypes, there lies nothing more than a man -- a man with a firm handshake.

Still, I had a premonition that I was only scratching the surface. I would have to go deeper to see what really lies beyond rush week and exactly what separates the boys from the fraternity men.