So many new experiences were coming at me all at one time that I was having problems processing them. A college freshman - finally! But all the daydreams about busting loose were tempered because I was also in the seminary. We weren't cloistered, but we sure did not have the opportunities that most college students have.
Of course, the seminary was an all-boys school, but we also attended the nearby secular university for requisite college courses for our various seminary-related majors: psychology, philosophy, etc.
One bright spot was Saturday evenings, believe it or not. The day before church day we were not only allowed to go and visit the city unsupervised, but if we requested we could also attend the college football game if they were playing at home. The rector thought it would be good if we traveled in a group and represented the seminary on the college campus as a beacon of chastity and goodness. He was almost 100% correct, too, because not a one of us voiced an impure thought.
After attending a couple of home games, however, this began to change. It seems that no one at the seminary bothered to check when we came in. The game usually ended around 10:00 p.m. and we usually returned to the seminary between 10:30 and 11:00. We fully expected the rector to welcome us in and ask about the game, but that never happened. So one of the guys had an idea about what we could do after the next home game: why not go to the "strip?"
I don't think I mentioned it, but I was a little farm boy from the country. I always made good grades in school and basically did whatever mom, dad, teacher or pastor asked me to do. Sure I had the same urges and feelings of every growing boy, and at eighteen I fought daily with primal feelings but offered them up as I sought my vocation. Here I was tempted by a fellow student on the path to enlightenment. Go to the strip? You mean where all the bars and crowds are?
"It's just a couple of beers, not like we're breaking the law or anything," Randy countered my almost-voiced opposition. "We go, grab a beer or two. Have some laughs with our classmates at university and come home. Promise."
I loved beer. My grandfather had been sneaking me beers since I was 15 years old. When I turned 18 I was so happy to be drinking legally that I really didn't realize that the seminary would have put a stop to it. But they did. Alcohol in any form was not allowed on the grounds. And I had not had a drop since I entered its doors.
Two beers, huh? I bet if I drink fast I could have three or four! Oh, my brain was wandering down that slippery slope of rationalization.
The next home game was two weeks later. A long two weeks, but something that gave me hope as the course load got heavier and heavier.
There were five of us who signed up to go to the game. We had to sign-up to check against permission slips our parents had to sign for us to participate in extra-curricular off-campus activities.
Dressed in our university colors we were indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd. We piled out of the Dodge van and made our way into the stadium meeting up with our regular group in the student section.
We lost. We lost really big, too, but you could not tell from our faces. We were going to the strip!
Then I heard Tommy groan and say "oh no." My heart sank. Who did he see? Was it Father McGinney? Another teacher?
"It's Miranda," Randy yelled to a couple of us over the crowd.
Who's Miranda, I thought.
This very cute blond came out of the crowd straight for Tommy and let out a squeal. She hugged his neck while poor Tommy looked absolutely helpless, his arms at his side.
"That's Tommy's sister," Randy told me. "She's a sophomore here, and Tommy doesn't approve of how she acts. He says she has way too much fun and doesn't pay enough attention to her studies."
"She's pretty," I blurted out loud not really meaning to.
"Oh she's a fox, all right," Randy winked at me, "and that's why Tommy's worried."
"Hi guys!" Miranda squealed when she released her grip on Tommy but never really letting him go. "Are you protecting my little brother?"
"Hi, Miranda," Randy said. "Remember me?"
"Yeah, you're Randy!" she piped up. "And who are you guys?"
Jerry and Lloyd offered their names, but I was completely tongue-tied. I've always been very shy around pretty girls, and Miranda really had my stomach doing flips.
"And this is Brad," volunteered Lloyd, pointing to me as if I were a special needs case.
I could have just dug a hole in the ground and climbed in because she immediately released Tommy from her grip and ran up to me putting her arm around mine.
"Hi Brad, howya doin'?" she asked as she pulled my arm closer to her side.
Still unable to speak I just kind of melted against her finally managing enough strength to mumble, "ok."
She laughed and pulled me along with her.
"Where are y'all going? Back to the convent?" she laughed again.
Randy told her that we're all going to the Strip to get a beer.
"SHUT UP! You're lying! Are you really?" She seemed positively excited. She looked me in the eye as if asking "really?"
I shook my head and said "uh huh."
"Can I ride with you guys? I don't know where Theresa and Mallory went, but it doesn't matter. They were walking back to the dorm. I'm going with you."
We made it back to the van and Miranda and I squeezed into the center seat, her in the middle and me pushed against the far wall. There was only one sliding door to the passenger compartment. Lloyd was in the back and James on the other side of Miranda. Tommy rode shotgun while Randy drove.
Miranda spoke endlessly mostly talking with Tommy about home. Every once in a while she would ask the rest of us about school and the seminary. And through it all she never let go of my arm. I don't know if it fell asleep or what, but I didn't care if she never let go. I watched the side of her face while she was talking across the front seat. She was very beautiful. Soft face, pretty blond curls. Even her voice sounded like a song. I knew right away that I had a major crush on her, and that was a big problem. I immediately started thinking about the seminary and chastity and purity. But then I'd look at her again and get this funny, twisty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Now, some part of reality made me know that she was probably treating me like a little kid. I was smaller than everybody else in the van, and certainly not as sure of myself as Randy and Lloyd. They spoke to her without hesitation. And although I was getting braver with her on my arm, or vice-versa, I still could only manage to get out some "uh huhs" and "yeahs."
We stopped a couple of blocks from the Strip, which is basically five or six bars along this street. Mercifully or not Miranda released my arm to scoot out of the van. Apparently, her interest in me was short-lived because she led the way, obviously quite excited at leading a group of virginal boys to their debauchery.
No one offered to buy her a beer because we were all too self-centered in getting our own. Before too long each of us was lost to the crowd, and I didn't see Miranda, Tommy or any of the crew for a while. Didn't matter; I was quite happy with my mug of draught.
After about a half-hour Lloyd found me and asked if I had seen the others. We rounded up Jerry and Randy, and after a brief chit-chat I found that my assumptions were right. They had each had a single beer and I was about to finish my third. Needless to say I was feeling no pain and happy as a lark. Finally Tommy saw us all together and asked if we wanted to go to Drewberrys, another bar nearby. We all nodded our heads and left for the exit.
Out of nowhere Miranda appeared from a group of people near the door and asked where we were going.
