Tear gas required

Finals week isn't limited to tests, papers and projects. For many, finals week symbolizes the last time for various occurrences we have become so accustomed to: the final midnight urination in the Arboretum, the last time making out in the stacks and yes, the final time to sit down at the computer and crank out a column.\nFour years ago, I stepped onto to IU's campus, a bushy-tailed freshman resembling more of a high school freshman than that of the college variety. An avid sports enthusiast, I spent my fledgling days dispelling rumors that my father was the star of "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids" and "Spaceballs." \nOnce the blood test results came in and my floormates were satisfied Lord Helmet was indeed not the guilty party of my creation, I was able to focus on my true love -- sports. \nI was unaware at the time that my freshman year would be the pinnacle of my cheering days.\nI knew of the tradition IU basketball boasted. I'm almost certain "Hoosiers" was on a 24-hour continuous loop on the IU movie channel in the dorms, except in the morning when "FernGully 2: The Magical Rescue" came on at 8:30 a.m. And the 2001-02 season was quite the introduction into the tradition of IU basketball. The regular season saw the Hoosiers share the Big Ten title with more teams than Tom Cruise has girlfriends. IU fans were unprepared for what lay ahead, especially a Florida transplant who had wholeheartedly embraced the Hoosier luster. \nIn the NCAA tournament, IU won its first two games, setting up a Sweet Sixteen tilt against No. 1 ranked Duke. \nA sizeable group gathered in my dorm room, some with painted faces and, of course, the hidden bottle of booze. The Blue Devils boasted a starting lineup featuring four current NBA players and one former member of the Association who has an affinity for motorcycles. The Hoosiers' starting lineup featured just that: Hoosiers. Take a look at Jarrad Odle, Tom Coverdale, Dane Fife and Kyle Hornsby and tell me you couldn't see them taking instructions from Gene Hackman. Down for most of the game, the Hoosiers showed resiliency and shocked the college basketball world, albeit by a missed free throw by Jason Williams on a potential four-point play. As soon as Jeff Newton secured the rebound, mayhem began. Guys poured into the hallways of McNutt-Bordner 3 jumping in near dismay. "To Showalter Fountain!" the mob exclaimed.\nThe memory of the drunken jog from McNutt down Fee Lane, through the Arboretum and finally to the fountain still brings a smile to my face. The uneasiness of Captain Morgan sloshing around in my stomach on the jog and the pure jubilation as everywhere you looked smiling faces greeted you has been etched in my mind. There were the flashing girls, the moronic chants and, of course, the crowd surfing, which I partook in, only to be dropped on the asphalt and nearly trampled when a group of girls decided my 117-pound frame was too much to handle. \nThe ride continued for a week and a half. Classes became irrelevant; they merely served as fillers between games, which culminated with the championship bout versus Maryland. \nIU took a brief lead in the second half only to have Juan Dixon snatch it away. The margin grew and the hopes of a title slipped away. The dejection lasted for an instant, and the decision to rejoin the mob for one last "celebration" was in order. A rambunctious crowd, a bonfire on Kirkwood Avenue and riot police completed the scene. \nStanding at the corner of Dunn Street and Kirkwood Avenue, I had a clear view into the perimeter the shielded police had set up. And one by one they fixed their gas masks on. Then there it was, flying in the air as if it was aimed directly at me, a canister emerged. Clank! It hits the ground no more than five feet away from my feet. \n"It's a dud," I tell the crowd. And as the final syllable is uttered, the gas explodes that would send "rioters" scurrying like deer from hunters. \nA pain I have never felt before consumed me. The eyes began to water uncontrollably, dry heaving soon followed and the burning, oh, the burning. I lost a man that night. "Go on without me, I can't go anymore," he said, reminiscent of a Hollywood war film. And so he was abandoned. Fortunately, a block away, a hose was found to douse the eyes. \nThe greatest pain to crown the greatest week and a half of my college career. Seriously, you've never lived until you've been tear gassed. \nAnd with that, I leave you. I hope you've enjoyed reading my "Takes" as much as I've enjoyed writing them. To all the graduates, good luck, and to all those remaining, I hope you'll be afforded the opportunity to forge your own victorious riots and create everlasting memories.