It was ten o’clock on a Saturday night and I was certainly not expecting anything of appreciable worth or excitement to occur on this innocuous January evening. I was sitting in the living room of my fraternity house when my little brother walked through the door and asked if I had seen the basement in an eerily calm and simple manner. Of course I had seen the basement, that’s where my food lives and my underwear gets cleaned. I have since learned that ambiguous questions delivered with such poise are often the most loaded and harmful to my mental well being.
Concerned, I make my way down into the depths basement. Awaiting me was 3-5 inches of standing water in our boiler room and along our west wall, home to the majority of the house’s “expensive” electronic equipment (I use the term liberally.) The realization that my house was flooding, my land lord was too far to be of use, and it was my job to make sure this gets addressed was a very stressful one.
At this point a few facts regarding my upbringing become relevant to the story:
1. I have seen the movie Home Alone
The furnace from the movie scared the crap out of me such that I was afraid to enter a basement
until I was roughly 12 years of age
2. I grew up in northern New England
We did not have a basement; we had a sketchy stone hole in the ground (a crawl space) behind
doors I was afraid to open because of Kevin McAllister.
3. I have not lived in a house with a basement since I was 12
My parents live on a lake, and having a basement is asking for a flooding problem.
So, the house had a basement full of water and no idea of what to do with it. There were several suggested options (all of which were worthless) and subsequently dismissed. It was at this moment that one of the brothers remembered that we had a wet/dry vacuum in the garage. Eureka! It was placed in the garage as it was ultimately deemed “inconvenient” when located in the house, a mistake we have since rectified. I wandered upstairs to put on my rainbow striped goulashes (I am a sucker for shoes) and got to work. We had one brother manning the vacuum and two dumping out the black Troy-infected water when it became full. This was an experience that I would not like to relive in any way at any point in my life… ever.
After the water had been sufficiently removed, we were then charged with the task removing wooden floor boards that have been for roughly 4 years. This becomes a problem because as a ginger kid I have been blessed with the immune system of an ailing infant orphaned at birth. My voice proceeded to lower by 2 octaves within minutes of releasing the death spores from beneath the floor, hitting pitches that lifelong chain-smokes could only aspire to reach.
It was unanimously decided that living in a house with a basement full of poisonous death spores infecting the air quality was in nobody’s best interest, so we set out to the 24 hour Wal-Mart 20 minutes away to obtain a de-humidifier. The level of moisture in the basement was akin to a summer night out in the bayous of Louisiana, the kind where you start sweating when the thought of sitting on leather seats crosses your mind.
Have you ever been to Wal-Mart at 2 in the morning under the influence of death spores? I have, and it’s not a positive experience. 2 am at such a place is visually comparable with a trip to the circus, complete with the bearded lady. After an hour and a half, a $148 de-humidifier and $30 worth of allergy medication, our outing was complete. I ended up making it to bed around 4am and was fortunate enough to have work in the morning.
The whole fiasco still left us with one looming question in the morning; why did the basement flood in the first place? We were all quick to blame Al Gore and global warming, but upon further inspection it was discovered that someone had turned on the hose when it was frozen and did not think to turn it off entirely. If you are the miscreant who caused these problems, I advise you to never tell me, not even on your death bed; it would put the both of us in a very unfortunate situation. We called our alumni president and let him know of the problem only to learn that you are, apparently, supposed to turn off your hose during the winter months to avoid problems of this nature. There should be a lever in your basement attached to the water feed for said hose in case you were wondering. As a point of clarity, the Saturday of the Great Flood of 2008 was the night before the beginning of spring recruitment this year.
Why tell you this story? It has recently been brought to my attention that the majority of people are unaware of the most important benefits of Greek Life. People are quick to tell you that the biggest bonus of being Greek is the bond you build with your brothers. This is entirely true, but the majority of this message is missed if you are not part of the Greek system. Why should we expect you to know what being Greek means to us if most of the positives remain unspoken? Simply put, being a part of a fraternity has been the best learning experience that college has afforded me. Because of situations like the one I described, my ability to assess situations and deal with issues far outside of my knowledge and comfort zone has grown tremendously. The importance of being upfront about conflicts and dealing with them in a prompt and appropriate manner has been instilled in me. I use what I have learned as a brother every day to help me solve problems. I would not be the strong and confident person I am today if it weren’t for the stuff I have had to deal with from my house and the good times I had with my brothers doing it.
Written by Lis Gallant, Vice President of Public Relations for the Interfraternity Council
