A nervous freshman, dressed in a button-down and shorts, clutches a reporter's notebook and slams his friend's car door. Here it is. Race day. \nHe crosses 17th Street from the corner of North Jordan. Sure, it's hot, but he shouldn't be sweating already. The nerves are tight and the gut wrenches. Partly from the shred of a hangover that still lingers, but mostly because within the hour, he will be smack dab in the center of … well … he has no clue what. It's just loud, looming and colorful.\nThen, fumbling for his press pass with his sweaty palms, he looks through the woods, down the path, and there it is -- his first sight of the illustrious Little 500: a girl in pink, puking her guts out; boyfriend holding the hair back. \nI've covered three races in three years, but nothing sticks with me more than that very first moment with the Little 500. Not because it's symbolic for the race -- Little 5 is much more than a drunken fracas -- but because the best places in life are the ones where it's acceptable for people to be puking: concerts, athletic events, wedding receptions, amusement parks … need I go on?\nWhat I'm getting at is: The race, the weekend, the week as a whole is all about making memories that will last forever, those flashbulb moments that we look back on at 40 and say, "Now that was college."\nFrom my memory files to yours, here are some surefire ways to make sure this year's Little 500 is the one you tell your grandchildren about.
Break \nsomething of decent value \nThere is no denying the build up of aggression. With the race looming, competitive juices are flowing like liquor in this town, sleep has been minimal, and if you've been out more than two nights already, you've probably seen a fight. That said, take out that pent up energy on the old chair you bought at Goodwill instead of some stranger's face.\nRule of thumb on destruction here: the more pieces, the better. This bodes well for intricate electronics such as space heaters or computer parts. A 15-year-old IBM printer found deep in a friend's basement worked for me.\n(Note: Safety first -- be wise in the location selected to break said item. Seventh Street is probably not a good option.)
Attend the race … SOBER\nYes, I said it. Sober. I know that word hardly seems synonymous with Little 5, but consider your options: Scream like holy hell at the skydivers, make an ass of yourself during the national anthem by shouting your "Break Away Boys!!," pass out in the sun by lap 75, wake up to vomit in a trash can, then get escorted off the premise before the race is over or actually enjoy the intense build up and eventual climax of the nation's premier intramural event.\nI've had three amazing Little 500s, and yes, I managed to attend every race (men's and women's) stone-cold sober. It can be done.
Watch the women's race\nI know it's Friday afternoon. And I know you would rather be hitting up Kilroy's happy hour. But the race is only 100 laps -- half the distance of the men's race -- which makes for less downtime in the middle when the riders are saving up for the final push. In my three years, the women's race has always been equally, if not more, exciting than the men's race.
Start a fraternity, sorority or frarority\nA major complaint about Little 500 is "It's just a Greek event." Well, it's here I would like to cite the historic case of "Beat 'Em v. Join 'Em." Pick some random Greek letters -- the more absurd the better -- and let your inner-frat shine proud. \nI don't care what you say; there is certain romanticism about the unity and camaraderie of the greek system that just makes you want to scream "TAU!" from the top of your lungs. \n(Note: Since it's not a real house, there aren't real rules. Welcome all genders, abolish the class system, and get straight to the ridiculousness.)
Put thought into the perfect nightcap\nBesides the race, my favorite moments of Little 500 week have come from the wee hours of the morning. Now note, this requires you not being a slobbery mess by closing time, but proper pacing can keep you toasted yet still tasteful. \nThe key here is finding an activity (a game, a contest, a favorite food joint) that can serve as the glue that keeps people together -- talking -- while still having an activity to keep them awake. My personal preference: Invest in a Playskool basketball hoop, prop it up in the front room and play horse till the sun comes up. Trust me, you'll never forget the shot you sink while lying on the couch, bouncing it off the ceiling, nothing but net -- left handed! \n(Note: Read further for this is how those "Find your friends, find yourself" moments are able to occur)
Maintain your wits (if you have them)\nNothing spoils a great weekend like a night in the drunk tank. Thankfully, this is one area where I'm not speaking from experience. Just understand that while the police are not out on a witch hunt, they will certainly punish stupidity. I'm not trying to sound preachy, just watch where you pee, puke and pass out.
Find your friends, find yourself\nThere's a very good chance you will have friends in town. If not, it's a guarantee that your friends have friends in town. Use this weekend to meet as many people as possible. Get crazy with the crazy ones. Have "moments" with the closest ones. And most certainly support the biking ones -- if you know any. And don't worry about remembering names; it's the memories that matter.\nWithin this process, seek out truths about yourself. It's the end of the year, you're not going to class, you're sitting outside with your friends all day -- talk about life. Seniors, hell, why not talk about the future? Now is as good a time as any. Actually, 4:30 in the morning after the bars have closed and after passing around a Mad Dog 20/20 is as good a time as any.\nYou'd be surprised how much wisdom comes out of the fifth bottle of beer.
