Read Online The Laws of the Ring by Tim Keown, Urijah Faber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tim Keown, Urijah Faber
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Self-Help, Personal Growth, Sports & Recreation, Sports, Success, Business Aspects
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as loud as we wanted. People in town knew us as good kids who sometimes got rambunctious. Thatâs, of course, a nice way of saying we got away with a lot of stuff teenagers do, including driving around at all hours and partying at the local lake.
I was one of two boys from my class to attend a four-year college directly out of high school, and the number of college-bound girls didnât exceed us by much. But one of these was my high school sweetheart, who also chose Davis and was placed in the same dorm complex as me. To boot, it was less than an hourâs drive from Lincoln to Davis, so it would be easy for my buddies from high school to come and visitâand partyâin my new digs with me, my girl, and my new friends. The outspoken, friendly guy I am today is not an aberration of what I was at eighteenâso for better or worse (I like to think for better), everybody in the dorm knew me within a few hours of my arriving in college, and I quickly became friends with some excellent people like Dustin Soderman and my wrestling teammate Spanky Michaelis.
Because of wrestling practices and simply a desire to ingratiate myself in my new environment, I waited until about the third weekend of my college career before I invited Will Creger, Jim Cannon, and Brian Strand, three of my buddies who were still back home, to come experience college life with me. This was going to be my shining moment, when the best of my Lincoln and Davis worlds would collide.
Flash-forward . . . with beer in tow, Dustin, Spanky, and my other college friends were having a great time with my high school buddies. To me, this was the best. I was bringing my social circles together, and everybody was getting along as Iâd hoped they would. But just as I convinced myself this new college atmosphere was easy to navigate, things got slightly out of hand. My buddies from high school started popping their heads into dorm rooms uninvited, flagrantly disregarding privacy and personal space. The alcohol was on full display in my room, and when word got around that the resident adviser was coming for heads, some people panicked and others just hung out. Spanky broke his leg jumping out of a second-floor window in an attempt to avoid being caught. My buddies from home, thinking they were re-creating our senior trip to Puerto Vallarta, followed suit and jumped off the second-floor balcony into the pool in the dormitory courtyard. And there were beer cases everywhere. With my friends cleared out, I quickly cleaned up some (which is to say, barely at all) and went to bed.
It was a wild night.
Iâm not sure what time the night ended, but it was well into the morning. I wasnât in a position to take inventory of all the damage we had wrought, but the next day there was an official letter in my mailbox. I was being written up for violations of noise, curfew, and alcohol, and I would need to appear before the resident adviser. I knew there were rules to living in the dorm, but Iâd been too busy with wrestling and classes to consider them very closely. And letâs be honest, I was still on Lincoln time, where everybody knew us and we could get away with being a little crazy without worrying about anyone getting too upset. Besides, we were just having a little fun and hindsight is always 20/20.
No big deal, I thought. Iâve never been in trouble before, and this is just a minor deal. I was so unconcerned that I neglected to write down the time and date of the meeting with the resident adviser.
Four or five days later, I got up around six in the morning to go for a long run. When I got back, I hopped into the dormitory spa in the courtyard. The rules stated that there was to be no spa use at that hour, but I concluded that since there was no one around and that if I was quiet, it would be no big deal. You can already see that by this point I was, unknowingly, compounding my mistakes.
On cue, the RD (resident director) came out
I was one of two boys from my class to attend a four-year college directly out of high school, and the number of college-bound girls didnât exceed us by much. But one of these was my high school sweetheart, who also chose Davis and was placed in the same dorm complex as me. To boot, it was less than an hourâs drive from Lincoln to Davis, so it would be easy for my buddies from high school to come and visitâand partyâin my new digs with me, my girl, and my new friends. The outspoken, friendly guy I am today is not an aberration of what I was at eighteenâso for better or worse (I like to think for better), everybody in the dorm knew me within a few hours of my arriving in college, and I quickly became friends with some excellent people like Dustin Soderman and my wrestling teammate Spanky Michaelis.
Because of wrestling practices and simply a desire to ingratiate myself in my new environment, I waited until about the third weekend of my college career before I invited Will Creger, Jim Cannon, and Brian Strand, three of my buddies who were still back home, to come experience college life with me. This was going to be my shining moment, when the best of my Lincoln and Davis worlds would collide.
Flash-forward . . . with beer in tow, Dustin, Spanky, and my other college friends were having a great time with my high school buddies. To me, this was the best. I was bringing my social circles together, and everybody was getting along as Iâd hoped they would. But just as I convinced myself this new college atmosphere was easy to navigate, things got slightly out of hand. My buddies from high school started popping their heads into dorm rooms uninvited, flagrantly disregarding privacy and personal space. The alcohol was on full display in my room, and when word got around that the resident adviser was coming for heads, some people panicked and others just hung out. Spanky broke his leg jumping out of a second-floor window in an attempt to avoid being caught. My buddies from home, thinking they were re-creating our senior trip to Puerto Vallarta, followed suit and jumped off the second-floor balcony into the pool in the dormitory courtyard. And there were beer cases everywhere. With my friends cleared out, I quickly cleaned up some (which is to say, barely at all) and went to bed.
It was a wild night.
Iâm not sure what time the night ended, but it was well into the morning. I wasnât in a position to take inventory of all the damage we had wrought, but the next day there was an official letter in my mailbox. I was being written up for violations of noise, curfew, and alcohol, and I would need to appear before the resident adviser. I knew there were rules to living in the dorm, but Iâd been too busy with wrestling and classes to consider them very closely. And letâs be honest, I was still on Lincoln time, where everybody knew us and we could get away with being a little crazy without worrying about anyone getting too upset. Besides, we were just having a little fun and hindsight is always 20/20.
No big deal, I thought. Iâve never been in trouble before, and this is just a minor deal. I was so unconcerned that I neglected to write down the time and date of the meeting with the resident adviser.
Four or five days later, I got up around six in the morning to go for a long run. When I got back, I hopped into the dormitory spa in the courtyard. The rules stated that there was to be no spa use at that hour, but I concluded that since there was no one around and that if I was quiet, it would be no big deal. You can already see that by this point I was, unknowingly, compounding my mistakes.
On cue, the RD (resident director) came out
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