Serbian New Year's

 A FaceBook (tm) memory popped up today, in which my college friend Jean recalled a tradition we had at the Honors Dorm at UM: Serbian New Years. We hosted epic parties there, in long demolished Building 22, and a few years before my time, a group of the kids realized they missed celebrating NYE with their friends, as it fell during Winter Break. But one of them realized that, supposably (as we malaprop in Miami), the Serbs celebrated New Year's AFTER our traditional January 1, and so Building 22 began hosting Serbian New Year's.

It took place the first Saturday after we all returned from Break, and basically mimicked a regular 19-22 year old party at the time -- 18 was the drinking age then, and we did our share. At midnight everyone would kiss, or pair off for more than a kiss, and we would all wish each other Auld lang syne.

And then, the following Sunday morning, the first guy up had to go around waking everyone for the Hangover Bowl, a game played at one of the intramural fields. Unlike our typical flag or touch football games, this one was full out tackle -- without any helmets of pads, of course. Even Honors students could be fools...

Anyway, my first was January of 1980, and I sort of just helped to block, and caught a few passes. I guess I was a slightly above average player, which given my group, wasn't saying much. This was a bunch of future scientists, doctors, and lawyers. As smart as we were, few were smart enough to realize that Finance or the budding industry known as Tech were the ways to go...

The next year, somehow I became quarterback for one of the teams, and I got the absolute crap knocked out of me . I got off a few decent passes and a few short runs, but mostly got sacked -- hard! My friend Sandy's boyfriend, later husband Cricket, had played high school ball, and he sacked me particularly viciously. But I broke no bones, and afterwards enjoyed the keg of beer we had brought to the field.

And then came Monday. I woke up and literally couldn't move. EVERY muscle in my body hurt. I skipped classes, and somehow made it to the infirmary, where a doc asked me if I realized how stupid it was to play tackle football without helmets or pads. I did then, I responded. He prescribed a muscle relaxant, I think methocarbamol, if I recall correctly, and I took it around 11 am and went to sleep. I awoke, and my clock radio showed 2 p.m. I honestly thought I had slept 3 hours, but it was 2 pm the NEXT DAY!

I had never in my life done that before -- slept that long. I guess having a 19 year old prostate gland allowed it, and Barry said he checked on my breathing every once in awhile, but man -- that stuff did the trick. And most of the pain was gone -- and I had a newfound appreciation for what the Canes players went through -- football was a tough game!

The following year, over Winter break, my parents gave us an old recliner chair to have in the apartment. We looked forward to chilling, studying, and napping in it. Alas, that January's Hangover Bowl would change things.

Our roommate Mike, a blonde Italian guy from Long Island and also pre med, WAS a good athlete. He caught a pass, and took off running. Roy chased him -- also fast, and tackeled him from behind. We all heard a terrible crack. Mike went one way, and his lower leg the other -- compound fracture of his fibia and tibia. We ran over to him. By then, I was an English Major, no longer pre med, and I looked and said to Eric and Barry "It doesn't look too bad." They looked at each other with a glance that said "Good thing Dave isn't going into medicine -- can't that moron notice that Mike's foot is essentially hanging loose?"

We called 911, and the paramedics drove Mike the short distance to Doctor's Hospital. The orthopedic surgeon on call was excellent -- Kalbac. He was the Canes and Dolphins team doc. Mike's divorced parents flew down from Long Island, and Kalbac put the bond fragments back together over an hours long procedure. He was released a week or so later in a full leg cast, with crutches.

That was, as far as I know, the final Hangover Bowl.

Mike rehabbed over the Fall, 1982 semester. The only way he was comfortable was in the recliner I had brought -- so the chair became, essentially his. It worked out well -- whenever he would make his way, with crutches, up the three flights of stairs, we would clear out and give him "his chair." Poor guy was in a cast until the Summer, I think.

He ended up no worse for the wear -- getting into med school in Alabama, which we all found funny, since he was SO Long Island -- heavy accent, Jets and Mets fan. But he took to the South, and for years has been a Professor of Infectious Diseases at Arkansas -- married with 2 now grown kids. He remains a Canes and Jets fan -- we see each other on FaceBook (tm) although I last saw him in person when I was in law school and he came for a visit to Miami -- probably 1985.

But Jean's memory triggered mostly nice ones. Man -- to be in college. I was responsible for exactly one person -- myself. Life was about getting good grades, making bucks during Summer jobs, and my friends. I was close to my parents, but they had their own lives -- full ones -- retired in Delray.

Everything changed that Summer after the final Hangover Bowl -- Dad died in July of '82, and now all of a sudden I had an elderly mother to care for. Ha -- she was my age now, 62, but to my 21 year old self, seemed like a little old lady who had never paid a bill nor balanced a checking account. We sort of learned adulting, to use a millennial term, together.

The following year, I met Wifey, and 4 years later, we would marry and start our grown up lives together.

But man -- the freedom of my college years. Sorry Mike's leg got shattered, but he healed up fine. And those Serbian New Years parties, in Building 22 on the Coral Gables campus? They were good times. Damn good times.