Punch on the Rocks

This time it was going to be different, Dudley thought as he walked across the Weeks Footbridge with his roommate. I know the fine art of mixing at mixers, he repeated to himself. He bid his roommate goodbye and thanked him for walking him across the bridge. Dudley always had an uneasy feeling going over that bridge alone at night; but his roommate was a big guy, played House football. Yessir, thought Dudley, after that Weeks Bridge, it's no sweat.

Everything was perfect. This would be the night, he reassured himself. As he drove to the mixer, Dudley planned his line of attack to get a date for the Princeton game.

After entering Throckmorton Hall, he headed for the punch bowl. Punch can make or break a mixer, he chuckled to an acquaintance he happened to meet. But Dudley soon slid away from the conversation, straightened his tie, adjusted his Sunday School pin--conversation piece, Dudley called it--and headed into the thick of the dance floor. At most mixers he had had fun overhearing conversations or talking with the boys in Ruby Newman's Band, but tonight was to be different. Dudley tapped the shoulder of a fellow who was dancing with a rather attractive girl, the type you like to dance with but still you don't get cut in on right away. The dancing came rather naturally, in fact it was fun, but Dudley could not think of anything to say. He forgot everything he had planned.

She finally asked, "What's your name?"

"Dudley Mahoney."

"How's that?"

"Dudley....D-U-D-L-E-Y," he answered, "Like the House."

"What House?"

"You know, the commuter House at Harvard, Dudley House.

"You can call me Dud. My friends do."

Again there was a dead silence, and Dudley could feel the sweat on his brow increase. His left hand became clammy, and soon her right became clammy. It was this that made Dud sure that they were meant for each other. Still he was stuck for words.

"What's your Coop number?"

"I don't have one, I guess."

"Oh, I guess only Cliffies and Harvard students have them....I wonder who has number one."

"How in hell would I know who...."

"What?"

"I said, 'I wonder who does have number one?'"

"Probably President Pusey," replied Dud.

The increasing sweat and the increasing number of men along the wall told Dudley that The Question had to come.

"I suppose you're doing something November 7?"

"Yes."

"Say, do you have a roommate?....You do?....Well is she nice?...."

"Yes."

"Is she doing anything November 7?"

"Probably."

Someone cut in on him, and Dudley headed towards the punch bowl. After he gulped down his four glasses, he suddenly cheered up and went over to shoot the breeze with Ruby Newman.