This Sucks

If you ask someone what their favorite holiday is, you might hear "Christmas", or "Halloween", or even the occasionally self-centered "My Birthday", but if one were to ask me, the answer would be a resounding "Stop Day." Some of you may not know what Stop Day is. Well, to explain it to you, you must first close your eyes, and imagine that you are being transported to a magical place, a place where Dr. Pepper flows in rivers, where gumdrops grow on trees, where the streets are paved in snickerdoodles and Junior Mints rain down from the sky(in case you can't tell, i haven't eaten yet today). So here you are in this mythical wonderland, frolicing at will through fields of Pixie Stix, when you realize that you are late for class. You turn to your fellow frolicers and tell them, and they all laugh. "What's that," they say,"You're late for class? No, Stop Day is the day when all classes end." At this point the sky opens above, and a golden light shines around you, a chorus of heavenly voices sing "Noo-ooo Classs-ssess Tooo-daaay" and a flock of ivory birds fly past. Okay, open your eyes now.
So maybe I went a bit far, but you get the idea. No classes. No responsibilities (unless you count exams, but I'm ignoring them). You can do nothing but play video games and sleep(which i did for seventeen hours today, and i believe my muscles have actually atrophied, since just reaching for the mouse puts my arm into agony). This is the glorious unfettered debauchery that is "Stop Day."
And here at Stephenson Hall, there is a little Stop Day tradition called the Oldman-Newman Game. This is a simple contest in which the newmen(all hall residents who have not lived at Stephenson for a full year) face off against the oldmen(anyone who has lived at Stephenson for a year, or, anyone who has EVER lived at Stephenson) in a battle of wits and cunning. Which means we go out, play football, get the crud kicked out of us, and limp home.
Now, there are a few minor factors that make this different from your average game. First off, there are no rules. It's tackle, full contact, swallow-your-teeth-and-keep-playing football. Which means there are no refs or officials. About the only penalty that is ever called is offsides. Allright, second, although no one would ever actually say the word "hazing" in regards to the game, that is
essentially what it is. You aren't required to go, but it is a definite plus to be able to say that you played your newman game your first year at stephenson. The difficult part comes about when you take into account that the Oldman team is comprised mainly of ex-Stephenson residents, most in there twenties, who, although not exactly Pittsburgh Steelers, are rather large fellows. It doesn't help that they've most likely spent the last semester looking forward to their chance to clobber some newmen.
So, Stop Day rolled around, and before anyone knew it, it was noon, high noon, the delegated time to begin. This year's game was more interesting, though, because it had been snowing for thirteen hours. By the time we got started, there was about four inches of snow on the ground. We start up, and I soon new it was not going to be a fun game. First play, I'm a lineman(the only thing I CAN do, since I'm slow and can't catch) and one of the oldmen rush me. I get ready to block him, but instead of him tackling me or trying to knock me down, he just runs up and kicks me in the #%$@ing ankle! Now, I've been outside half an hour by now, and was cold to the point that everything hurts twice as much(plus I'm the biggest pansy wuss on earth) so this just about puts me out for the game. I sit the next twenty minutes out and watch the game. It was actually not as bad as one might have expected. The snow meant that no one could get any footing, so we were able to take down most of the big guys. Also we had some absolutely vicious players on our team. Attrition began to take it's toll though, as people began to leave for study groups, and when they got too cold. Our best player got hit so hard he didn't remember it happening, so we were pretty sure he had a concussion. Two of our guys were still working off they're "Stop Day Eve Celebrations" from the night before(meaning that they were puking all of the place). And then our quarterback took off because he thought he had frost bite. The first half ended when the oldmen scored, and we all went inside. Much like this article I'm writing, the first half was monotonous and lasted almost forever(an hour and forty five minutes).
When we finally reformed on the field, our numbers had been drastically cut. We now had only fourteen guys to their approximate twenty, which means we had two substitutes. So of course, right off the bat another one of our guys gets a concussion, and a few minutes later our only extra player gets the lens knocked out of his glasses. So we continue to play, but pretty soon the oldmen score on us. Getting the feeling that we aren't going to be able to do anything anyways, we begin to just goof off and try crazy plays, which actually have more success than our serious ones. Eventually the oldmen call the game and we end. The final score was 14-0, and we played for three hours.