The start of my formal college pranking career began with a couple of tablespoons of water. This is going to take some explaining so go make yourself a nice cup of warm beverage and come back after the microwave dings.
Ready? Great. I attended Northwestern College in St. Paul, Minnesota starting in 1982. Northwestern is a beautiful suburban campus with some very fancy dormitories. They were so fancy, in fact, that the college authorities did not take a liking to pranks of any kind. They had a monetary fine system, which they readily employed. Two college buddies of mine were fresh off the farm in North Dakota. They decided to spend a year at Northwestern to broaden their horizons. They led a life out in the middle of nowhere so keep that in mind as you continue reading.
One day they decided to play a “college prank.” I put that in quotes for reasons you will soon see. I was always the intended victim. One afternoon I walked into their dorm room and as I entered the main part of the room, I could see the farmers sitting on beanbag chair awaiting my arrival. They stared at me quite oddly as I walked toward them. My shoe snagged on something and a moment later about two tablespoons of water fell from the ceiling, missing me completely. The farmers were visibly and vocally disappointed. I looked up to see an elaborate system of hooks and fishing line attached to a Dixie cup on the ceiling. Apparently I triggered the tripwire, which tipped over the cup. But the speed at which I entered the room was not accounted for thus the misfire.
This “college prank” repeated itself for a few weeks. It got to be a joke as they seriously thought they could get me. I took to pushing open their door with my foot before entering every time I visited. Each time they were waiting for me on that beanbag chair. It was actually quite cute. Those crazy college boys from North Dakota and their “college pranks” became quite the hit with the city folks. I would invite people who didn’t know them for a visit just so they could see the disappointed look on the faces of the farmers. “Maybe next time, boys. Maybe next time.”
I decided it was time to show those farmers their first real college prank. So one evening I enlisted my two roommates to help me. I filled a large manila envelope with shaving cream. Late that night, after the R.A.’s were tucked away in bed, we took the filled envelope to the second floor. I placed the open end under their door, knocked, waited for them to come to the door, then we dropped a couple of text books onto the envelope.
The books forced the shaving cream out of the envelope, under the door and sent it spraying into the room, covering the farmers with shaving cream as they approached. That was how it was supposed to work. What really happened was that the seam of the envelope became soaked with shaving cream and loosened. When we dropped the books onto it exploded on our side of the door completely covering my roommate and I from head to toe. It also covered the ceiling and many other parts of the hall. None of it entered the farmer’s room.
Shaving cream pranks were one of those on the upper end of expensive in the fine system. So, we freaked out. The farmers opened the door, saw us covered in shaving cream and were completely perplexed. Not wanting them to know what happened I told them that someone left an exploding package outside their door and I must have triggered it. We quickly grabbed all the towels we could and cleaned up the mess before getting busted.
A couple of days later the farmers began to suspect we tried to prank them and something went horribly wrong. Their “college pranks” grew more frequent. Tired of such shenanigans I told them if they promised to stop I would involve them in a real college prank on the entire student body. What we did became a tradition at Northwestern for years. And I am taking complete credit. I have witnesses.
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