What we have is a colossal hangover.

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By cst (1 day until Out-R-Inn) on 08:19:44 10/21/04

The party invites went out with the 2001 win at Michigan.

Everyone started to arrive when Clarett showed up for spring ball in 2002.

The drinks started flowing and the music started pumping against Texas Tech.

It looked like some people might head home at halftime against Washington State until Clarett ripped off that big run in the 2nd half.

After that things started getting hazy with Penn State and a trip to Wisconsin as tequila and Jager flew out of the blender. The cops showed up against Purdue and we thought the party was getting busted up, but Krenzel and Jenkins hooked up for Holy Buckeye and the cops joined the party. The strippers and fire trucks arrived sometime during Illinois and furniture started landing in the pool when Maurice Hall bounced into the endzone in our first OT win.

No one knew where all the people came from, but the party grew and continued to rage as the sun started to rise as the Wolverines arrived on campus. Usually this is when some people have had their limit and start jumping in cabs rather than revel in a great party. Not this crew -- we tapped a few more kegs, employed a few more blenders, lit a few more cigars, and turned up the music until Will Allen’s interception; then we all passed out on the floor, in the tub, on the stairs, anywhere we could fit. After a short rest, I rose to use the bathroom in the late afternoon and witnessed the carnage throughout the house. Heismans, Lombardis, Outlands, Belitnikoffs, and Butkuses littered the lawn. I thought soon people would get up and head home, but that's when I saw the Papa Joe's beer truck pull up in the front lawn driven by Trev and Mark. The music started again (I'm not certain it ever stopped); chips and salsa were our only sustenance as our party turned FIESTA.

I almost got hit by an empty keg thrown from a 2nd-floor balcony when Miami scored. But by the time Clarett stripped Sean Taylor’s interception the Swedish Bikini Team was topless with HINYG8, Porsche, Dru, 96Buck, AtlBrutus, Navy Buck, and ATLBUCKEYE all in close proximity. Things started getting nuts and the place was packed. We had John Hicks and Orlando Pace working the door when we saw the bandwagon pull up outside.

At 4th and 14 I was somehow holding three 36-oz. steins with a Churchill Macanudo hanging off my lip when I vaguely recall an elderly gentleman with silly glasses put his arm around me and ask with a lisp, "Do you believe?" When Jenkins pulled that pass in I threw the 3rd stein right into the fire place.

I heard a huge boom and thought the bass had blown out the 10-foot speakers in the backyard, but it turns out it was Wilhelm putting a helmet in Dorsey’s chest. I lost my hearing and depth perception at the exact moment that Cie Grant flung Dorsey to the Tempe turf.

I don't remember much else after that, just a euphoric high. At some point I slurred the words, "I have to go home," and Brutus Buckeye was staring me right in the face and said, "You are home." (He sounds like James Earl Jones, btw.)

So I stayed. I stayed through 2003. I was a Party Monster. During Wisconsin in 2003, I vomited violently, but pushed through. I fell down three flights of stairs and lost my wallet at Michigan that season, but was right back on track for my 2nd straight Fiesta Party.

In 2004, I started to doze off on the couch from a lack of excitement. I woke up with a horrible taste in my mouth after Northwestern, and started to get the dry heaves during Wisconsin. All the kegs had gone dry and power had been shut off -- the Neutron Man had ceased to be a power supply -- and everyone was heading home. During Iowa, my eyes were crossed with a pain in my head and body like I'd gone toe-to-toe with Tatum, Doss, and Katzenmoyer. I was numb with pain. I sat in the dark, alone, too dehydrated to cry.

As I realized it was all over, I waded through knee-high empties out the front door into the daylight and to the end of the driveway. I almost turned left to walk home for some Alka Seltzer, Gatorade, a long sleep and… but what is that? What do my tired eyes see? Down the street to the right, I see a Float. I can hear TBDBITL in the distance.

It's homecoming.

"I want to go back to Ohio State..."

I turn right instead and head to Out-R-Inn and Hineygate with a Papa Joe’s mason jar in my hand and a lucky buckeye in my pocket.

I am a Party Monster. Are you?

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