Going Bad Down at the Derby

The room was quiet, eyes were diverted and the tension was palpable as I took my turn with the gavel. I scanned the room and took a deep breath before launching into what might as well have been a soliloquy. Some still listened, but most had tuned me out. What I had long feared had come to fruition. I was the old, out of touch guy in the room, and those that once laughed at my jokes merely shuffled in their seats and waited impatiently for me to finish and sit down.

******

The RV had rumbled down the roads of Kentucky for the better part of six hours, and upon reaching Louisville, Ky., we all celebrated with a beer. Some 700 miles away, the rest of the Fraternity raged, but we had set our sights weeks ago on the Derby, despite the fact it meant missing the spectacle that is Away Weekend.

Naturally, our conversation turned toward our decision to skip Away Weekend for a road trip. Our reasons behind the decision varied; some had not paid dues and weren’t eligible to attend, a few had graduated from State University the prior year and still more were not members of the Fraternity. We all settled on the conclusion that we had seen Away Weekends before, and while they were always the best parties of the semester, a 30 foot RV, 600 miles of road and the never-duplicated Kentucky Derby were too hard to pass up.

As we settled in with our hosts for the weekend, I received a text from the Fraternity’s outgoing president that contained an accusation, and rather than immediately rectifying the confusion, I decided to have some fun.

“Did you all steal our 15 handles of KG and take it with you to the Derby?” he questioned.

“Yes, we’re drinking it right now,” I responded, and to add injury to insult, finished, “It’s delicious.”

“You are a fucking asshole, [Carter],” he exploded. “First you guys don’t pay dues, steal booze from us all semester by coming to our parties, and now this. Don’t bother coming around anymore, you aren’t wanted or welcomed.”

Minutes later, from our secretary: “You are no longer a brother. Don’t bother coming back.”

Apparently, nearly $200 worth of liquor was unaccounted for, and accusations had been running wild. I would find out later that one of the guys on our trip texted his roommate, who was at away weekend, “How’s the liquor in Virginia Beach,” and it was taken as a taunt and circumstantial evidence that we were the culprits behind the missing liquor. In reality, it was merely a nod to the mint juleps we had been facing all evening, but considering the circumstances, it is understandable how that could be misconstrued.

Texts began flying between Louisville and Virginia Beach as I relayed the messages to the rest of the members on the trip. The secretary would not cease and desist, labeling us as deserters and “Good bros gone bad.”

I eventually got our president on the phone and calmly explained we had not taken the liquor. He apologized and explained the frustration and intoxication that were rampant on his end, and I apologized for heightening the rumors with my antagonistic response. But their point had been made, and the divide I have felt for much of the semester was proven true.

It is not uncommon for seniors to out grow a fraternity in their last year. They have made their friends, seen many of them graduate and move on, and a lot get steady girlfriends that keep them away from parties where they used to skirt chase. They tend to hold their own pregames and go to the bars themselves, and their effort, attendance and participation tend to lag as graduation looms.

Unfortunately, our chapter has a larger problem at hand. Many seniors, myself included, elected not to meet our financial obligations this semester (dues are $600 for seniors, $650 for the rest of the chapter). Personally, I had planned to go on spring break, save my money for an uncertain future and use whatever was left over with my friends that had survived the passing years. I rarely attended fraternity parties, because a keg and 19-year olds in togas no longer appeals to me. In essence, I would have been paying $750 (dues plus the $150 kick in) to attend away weekend, and considering my precarious financial situation, this did not seem to make great sense for me.

On the other hand, the Fraternity has seen me through college and given me great friends, memories and moments. My selfish decision hung every other brother out to dry, and coupled with the other seniors who did not pony up, we crippled the budget and made it difficult for the chapter officers to fund our activities. By saving our money for ourselves, we deprived the younger brothers of many of the outings we still laugh and reminisce about today.

However, the Fraternity of 2009 is not the one I pledged back in 2006. Many of us graduating this year feel a deep divide within the chapter, and a noticeable degree of disrespect. Perhaps this is warranted, because we did not meet our financial obligations, but I felt it even last semester. The young guys are the majority, and they have little time to listen to our old stories about people they’ve never met or our advice on issues they don’t believe they’ll ever face. To us, they abuse our houses for parties, and merely want our money to financially back the next one. They care little for our companionship, and only lack a long enough stick to finally push us the last few feet out the door.

We certainly bear some responsibility; perhaps we did not do a good enough job of incorporating them into our circle and getting to know them. But when I was an underclassman, I reached out to our older brothers because I liked them and wanted to get to know them. These guys seem like they just can’t wait for us to get out so they can take over the reigns.

I remember our departing seniors giving their final salutes last year at meeting, and it was the first time it hit me that my friends would be gone, and we would be the oldest guys in the house. It was a scary thought, because last year’s class had a great deal of strong personalities and engaged brothers that stayed interested in the fraternity to their dying college career’s last breath. Few of my pledge brothers ever lived in the chapter house, and most of us never hung out with anyone but ourselves.

And yet, I can’t help feeling the stink of disrespect. Respect is earned, not given, and maybe the anger and frustration that was on display at meeting Monday night was tantamount to the fact we haven’t earned it. It is my humble opinion that they care little for us, and it seems to me they believe we have turned out backs on them. Those feelings were not helped along by what transpired this weekend, but when we got word away weekend had come to a premature conclusion Friday night because the owner paid a visit to the homes and saw the destruction, our decision making didn’t seem so bad. The Fraternity doesn’t work when some of its members don’t contribute, but it doesn’t seem sensible to pour my resources into something that no longer values my presence any more.