1: "Casting Call"

This one, frankly, was a no-brainer.

My number one college memory is: Casting Call.

Why was this a no-brainer?  Well, Casting Call - the first play I wrote and directed for the RC Players - was, in many ways, a crossroads for me: creatively, professionally, and personally.

Creatively, Casting Call came right after I had started taking screenwriting classes.  Anyone familiar with the play knows that it is NOT creative (all the characters, and many lines, are taken directly from other sources), but it was a big step forward from where I was before as a writer.  Before, I could only write personal essays (such as "The Summer of 2009," memory #11); this was the first thing I ever wrote that had any amount of creativity to it.  That enabled me to later on write more creative scripts such as "The Love You Take" (memory #17).

Professionally, Casting Call was a HUGE moment for me.  It instilled in me a love of directing and working with actors that really validated my decision to go into film production.  It started a relationship with the RC Players, and led to two other memories in the Top 25 that were RCP productions: "A Card Game Called Murder" (#24) and "Sleepover" (#12).  It also led to me meeting all the people that helped make "Ann Arborland" (#13) a reality.  And, it spawned a sequel, "Aftermath," that I directed for my Minor in Writing, which led to the script based on memory #3 ("The Designated Driver").

Personally, Casting Call was a chance to reunite old friends - Gabriela Granados from "Dr. Love" (memory #15) and Ryan Krasnoo (from memory #21); work with current friends - Sarah Goslin from memories #3, #16, and #18; and to make new friends - Grace Hawkins (who wrote "Sleepover" and "Ann Arborland"), Skye Payne, Peter Leonard, and Greg Hicks, David Brownman, and Paige Pfleger who all starred in "Ann Arborland."


THE SCRIPT

I was sitting in work, a day or two before the submission deadline for the RC Players Evening of Scenes.  I remember sitting in my office at work trying to write a scene based on my designated driving experience, but that wasn't working for me (the car was impossible to do on stage).  I had submitted a scene the previous semester (fall of junior year) and been rejected, so I really wanted this.

Then, an epiphany!  Make fun of famous people!  An original idea!

Okay, maybe not original, but easy to write and easy to follow.  I just needed my characters.  I wanted it to be an original idea as much as it could be, and being the movie buff that I am, I came up with the idea to make it about my favorite director, Judd Apatow, casting a new movie.

So, Apatow is casting a new romantic comedy.  At the auditions, he's hired Paul Rudd and Kristen Bell, who'd been in some of his previous movies, to read with the other actors.  As each famous actor or actress comes in, each one leaves with the situation somehow going awry.

Robert De Niro, for example, reciting a line from when he played Al Capone in The Untouchables, is too distracted over a fender bender from the parking lot to focus on the scene.  Will Ferrell thinks it's a sex scene and strips down and starts kissing Kristen Bell.  Christian Bale only uses the Batman voice.  Al Pacino (with Tom Cruise in his pocket) holds the gang hostage with a gun, as Katie Holmes comes to save her husband.

John Belushi (somehow alive) wears a toga.  Penelope Cruz' accent is to much for Apatow, who also can't recognize a past-her-prime Molly Ringwald.  Lindsay Lohan is drunk, and has her cocaine stolen by Al Pacino.  Meryl Streep, there to save the day, actually had the wrong room number.

THE CAST

I remember in the audition process for the scene, I had very few people actually read for Casting Call.  I was, frankly, casting people based on whether or not they looked the part.  I believed in their potential, and my potential to direct them and make the scene work.

The first person I cast was Ginger, who I wrote the role of Molly Ringwald for.  She came in early and read for me, with the permission of the other directors.  Ginger, it should be noted, is one of the sweetest people I know, and a great friend.  She's been around for some of the most exciting nights of my past four years, and stuck with me through the infamous "dark ages" of Zach when I was - in my opinion - impossible to be around.

The next person I cast was Greg Hicks in the lead role playing Judd Apatow.  I was impressed by his audition.  Greg would go on to become a good friend of mine and star in Sleepover and Ann Arborland.  And he was never better, in my opinion, than in this role.

I cast Ryan and Gabi very early on, based on my history with them and knowing they had acting experience.  I had seen Gabi in a scene the year before and liked her in it.  Ryan I actually considered for the role of Apatow before casting him as Paul Rudd, and Gabi was always the first choice to play Penelope Cruz (she looked the part both ethnically and attractively).

The issue of double casting actors then came up.  When I first met with the producers, they told me since my cast was so large (most scenes had 2-4 actors, I had 13) and because many of the parts were so small, I could cast people from other scenes in some of the smaller roles.  Then, at the casting meeting, they told me I couldn't because we had a lot of people try out.  I had to fight for it a bit, before they went back to the original plan.  Thank goodness, because the four actors I cast were perfect for their roles and also got the most laughs of the night.  Sean FitzGerald was an RC Players heavyweight, a perfect Will Ferrell, and I needed some star power.  Kendall Russ and Mike Perles were the only choices I had for Pacino and De Niro, respectively, and Peter Leonard did a great Batman voice.

I cast David Brownman as John Belushi, mostly because of his beard.  But he was absolutely perfect.  I cast Skye Payne as Meryl Streep because she was the only actress who came in with a resume and I thought her swagger would prove itself useful in that part.

The last three parts to be cast, as I recall, were Lindsay Lohan, Katie Holmes, and Kristen Bell.  I chose Paige for the first, and that decision was instantly met with great acclaim from the other directors who told me she was a natural for the part.  The last two I cast after all the other directors had left (that's how much bigger my cast was than everyone else).  I loved the auditions of Alexandria Strother and Grace Hawkins, and knew both of them were too good not to be in the show.  Alex got Katie Holmes and Grace got Kristen Bell, mostly because Grace had blonde hair.

That's right, I cast Grace Hawkins, who I've since directed three times, wrote a play with, will be moving to Hollywood with, and who has become on of my closest and best friends, not only LAST, but because of the color of her hair.  I am proud of every casting decision I made in this, but this will go down as the GREATEST casting decision I'll ever make.

THE REHEARSALS

Beginning with Casting Call, every time I direct anything I open the first rehearsal by saying, "my ideas are not final.  If anyone has an idea, speak up, because it's probably better than mine."

After the first rehearsal, Ryan and Grace both came up and started making suggestions for what to do in the play.  Grace suggested, at one point, having Peter do the Batman voice a second time.  Peter's Batman voice was the one thing that consistently had everyone in the room laughing at rehearsals.  Ryan added in a few jokes here and there and tweaked some things, too.

In fact, the script wasn't even completely written when we started.  Several of the "actors" in the casting call were supposed to read from a script (the one they were auditioning for), but one - Al Pacino's - wasn't written yet.  One day, I just had Kendall start improvising his lines,  He came up with the bit about the supermarket and the watermelons, and I loved it and kept it.  It was great.  And the voice he used for Tom Cruise led to the Kermit the Frog joke for Katie Holmes, and was made even funnier when the scene after us starred Kendall as well and had more Kermit references, unknown to us.

The parts of Paul Rudd and Kristen Bell were smaller in the script, too, and so Ryan and Grace had the freedom to help invent those characters some.  The Al Pacino cocaine bit was added in rehearsals, the Kristen Bell sloth joke was added, as was the the "six to midnight" line, I believe.

A few things we worked on a lot in rehearsals:
-Making sure the three leads served to not only move the plot along, but bring out the humor by playing the straight characters to the other actors.  A lot of the humor, I thought, was going to come from Greg's reactions to what people were saying and doing.
-Making Lindsay Lohan appear as drunk as possible.
-Making Penelope Cruz as hot as possible.  I even had Gabi bring in multiple dresses to see which was best for the scene.
-Planning and managing the many entrances, exits, and how to incorporate the paper scripts into the scene (as in who received one on stage, who already had one, who threw there's angrily, etc).  Those scripts also came in handy as several actors just read them on stage.

There were, for me, two big highlights of the rehearsal process.

The first was when Sean, the actor playing Will Ferrell, missed a rehearsal three days before the first show.  He texted me afterwards to say he slept through it.  I was so pissed off at him, that I sent a long, angry email to the whole cast telling them that they were all expendable and that all remaining rehearsals were full dress and anyone who didn't make it would be recast.  They responded beautifully, and the next two rehearsals were awesome.

The second was when I was trying to get Greg to get really angry at the end of the play (when he finds out Meryl Streep screwed up and it's the last straw for him).  Greg is such a nice guy, he couldn't do it.  Like some of my dad's more unorthodox coaching and motivational tactics from my youth, I came up with an odd plan.  First, I had Greg play the "penis game" with me (we alternate saying "penis" louder and louder until we're screaming, and whoever quits first loses).  Then, I went to the trash bin and grabbed a stack of newspapers, a soda can, and a water bottle.

"Greg," I said. "After your last line, I want you to rip these papers, smash this can, throw the bottle into the seats, storm out, and kick the door on your way out."  He did it, and it was so good we kept the props for the final show.


THE PLAY

The play itself was a huge success.  It got at least the second-biggest laughs of the night (out of 7 scenes).  I had several people congratulate me afterwards.  The best compliment was from a fellow director who admitted he thought the scene would fail because it relied on the actors' abilities to play famous people, but that it worked very well.  The second was when Greg said the same thing, after publicly doubting the scene and me as a director.

I was so nervous going into it, but confident.  I told my cast, in my pre-show pep talk, that they were incredible and that we had the best cast and how I got my first choice for all thirteen roles (which was true).  I loved all of them so much:  Peter's voice, Sean's borrowed wig and ridiculous underwear, Paige's insistence on dying her hair fot the role.




THE "AFTERMATH"

So, for a writing class I was assigned to repurpose an existing project (that is, to give it new meaning) and then to put that new paper into a new medium.  I chose to write a sequel to Casting Call, called "Aftermath."  I couldn't just do a sequel, though, because that didn't really change the purpose.  So I wrote the new script as a hybrid of a sequel and a documentary about the play.

Grace and my friend, Jennifer, both gave me some great notes on the script.  Grace was very adamant that we not be misogynistic, and also suggested that Meryl Streep be doing incredible things during her interview (catching a ball, doing the heimlich, etc), and Jen helped a lot with the setting and some finer details.  I haven't talked much about Jen in the Top 25, mostly because we didn't become friends until later, but Jen is a very good friend of mine.  She was tremendously helpful in writing "The Love You Take" (memory #17) and has been a fun, caring part of my life for awhile now.  Jen is also one of those people who doesn't fake anything; what you see is what you get, and in the best way.  She's just a very kind, very warm human being.

Here's the sequel:





And, with that, I conclude my countdown of my Top 25 College Memories.  I hope the few people who have read these enjoyed them as much as I did.

2: "That Time We Randomly Went to Detroit"

No list of my college memories would be complete nor accurate if it didn't include what is probably my all-time favorite story to tell.

Number 2: That Time We Randomly Went to Detroit on a Monday Night.

One of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me - and it's happened a couple of times, actually - was that I saw something in them when no one else did.  Well, once upon a time, someone saw something in me, too.

If you've read my last few posts in this blog, you've seen the name Mava pop up a few times without much background.  She was the one who got me to come downstairs at the first party where I met Loui.  She was the first person I ever did a designated drive for.  She also is the one person I credit the most for helping me come out of my shell in college and start to live a little.

I first met Mavamarie Cooper the day I moved into my house sophomore year; she was dating one of my roommates.  Shortly after I moved in, she told me, "you know, I was just telling these guys (my roommates) that you and I were probably gonna be best friends."

It was a joke, implying that any guy off the street (as I was, essentially) could be better than the other guys.  It was a joke, but also oddly prophetic.  She was, as it turns out, the first person I ever called my best friend (and got pissed when I didn't let people know that).

This was also around the same time my family moved to South Carolina.  The guy who she met that day was in a state of recovery, and meeting her sped up the recovery a lot.  She became, in some ways, my surrogate family when I was at school.

I have many Mava stories I could tell.  There are some that are sweet: the time we took her niece, Vanessa, to the Ann Arbor Hands-On Museum; the letter she wrote me when I moved home for the summer after sophomore year that I still have in a folder in my closet; the many times one of us went to the other for emotional support.

There are some that are really funny: the time she almost burnt her apartment down frying an egg and asked me to come help her fix it; the time we took her Aveo in to get fixed and she made a complete fool of herself at the dealership; the time she taped me taking the most disgusting shot ever created.

Then, there are some that deserve an entry in the Top 25...

The story begins the summer after sophomore year.  I spent half the summer taking classes and half the summer in South Carolina.

It was a Monday night, and my friend, Julie, came over to hang out.

Julie was another one of my very close friends.  She and I had a lot in common and were at times inseparable.  Julie was, at many times, the person I saw more than anyone else.

We had a lot of memories, Julie and I.  Our trip to Chicago, our weekend in St. Joe, 99 Problems, Pretty Girl Rock, Scrub-a-Palooza, and breaking into the Big House together (which was an earlier blog post).

Julie was also someone I was able to talk to a lot, and who trusted me to share things about herself with me.  She was, for a long time, one of the few people who truly "got" me, and often served as my "translator" when we were with other people (I'd say something stupid that made no sense, and she'd tell people what I was actually saying).

We also played sports together (I am a dodgeball god) and video games.

But on this Monday night, she wanted to do something more.  She wanted to break from our routine.  She suggested a road trip.  I suggested I show her Detroit, since she had never been there.  She, in turn, suggested we get Mava to come along.

She felt uneasy about it at first, but we talked her into coming. She went to tell my roommates, Peter and Casey who laughed and said, “You’re going to get shot.”  Their comments about how dangerous the city was convinced her not to go. 

It took a solid ten minutes of Julie and I begging and telling her it was still light outside and that we’d stay in the nice parts of town before Mava would even think about coming.  

Finally I said, “Mava, you’re always telling me that you get upset because you miss out on fun things your friends do without you.  My gut tells me tonight is gonna be awesome.”

She reluctantly got in the car, and spent the entirety of the 40-minute drive complaining, hyperventilating, and almost crying out of fear.  Then, as we got off the exit to park by Comerica Park, we were greeted by a traffic jam, police blockades at almost every intersection and dozens of cops walking around.  Right away I thought, ‘oh shoot I’m going to eat my words; there was a murder here.’  

We drove all the way around downtown with nowhere to park, and settled on the sketchy little 5-dollar lot we saw when we first exited the interstate.  Mava, of course, was fearing the worst: that my car would be broken into and all our things would be stolen.

            

We got out and walked over to Comerica Park and took pictures with the gigantic Tiger statues outside the ballpark and by the beautiful Edison Fountain nearby.  Then we headed down Woodward, which was mysteriously closed off to all vehicle traffic.  It was then that somebody finally told us what was going on: the yearly summer firework show was that night.

            

The three of us went and bought some sweets at Astoria, a fantastic little bakery in Greektown, took another walk, and lined up in a crowd to watch the fireworks from the foot of the Renaissance Center.  

It was, by far, the best night of my college experience.  We really enjoyed ourselves.  And, of course, on the way home, I had to prove my point to Mava.

            

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” I asked.

“Yes, Zachary,” she said, “you were right.”

3: "Tales of the Designated Driver"

As most anyone who reads this knows, I'm not much of a drinker, and for most of sophomore year and part of my junior year, I was often the guy driving people around after they'd been drinking.

My number 3 college memory is my time as a designated driver.

Now, I can understand why this might seem high.  Here's my rationale in putting it at number 3:
a) It's a collection of so many smaller memories.
b) It was the way in which I made a lot of my friends.
c) It defined who I was, for better or worse, for a year of my life.
d) It is the inspiration for my most recent screenplay.

Each of those points is very key, I think.  I'll start from the very beginning, and hit on each of them as we go along.

First up is The Designated Driver origin story.  In other words, how I met Monica.

In my post about Loui earlier, I mentioned the first party we threw at my house sophomore year, and how I was so nervous and didn't know anyone.  I mentioned that my friend Mava was the one who got me to come downstairs, and that's when I met Loui.

But, that's not all that happened that night.

I was, as I said, very nervous and way out of my comfort zone.  What I wanted, to combat that, was to just go to bed early.  But I wasn't tired.  So I asked a guy named Ben Trout, who I had met already, for advice.  He said he'd race me in the street to wear me down.  That led to another girl racing HERSELF...and losing.

Either after that "race" or during another trip outside to cool off, I found Mava on the porch looking very stressed out.  I asked her what was wrong and she told me her roommate, Courtney, had way too much to drink and her other roommate, Bri, also needed to go home.  So, I told her that I had not been drinking at all, had a car, and could drive them.

I pulled up the car and Mava brought Courtney and Bri out, as well as their fourth roommate, Monica.  Courtney fell getting into the car, and I had to talk to her friend on the phone to get instructions on how to take care of her (it was Courtney's birthday the next day, and she celebrated a little too much).  Bri never said a word the whole time, which would become the source of much humor later on.

As I started driving, I heard the girls in the back seat mumbling about something.  I turned around to see that both Courtney and Monica had vomited in the back seat of my car.

Oh - side note - I had just bought a Mustang a few weeks earlier.

Now, I have a belief.  My belief is that if you can like someone at their worst, they're worth having in your life.  This was about the worst that I had ever seen Monica (there are a couple instances that may be worse) and yet, I was blown away by how she and Courtney reacted.  Kindness, in the face of embarrassment and struggle, speaks volumes to me.

Monica ended up becoming one of my closest friends.  She met my family - they loved her - and I went to her house.  She would cook for me, helped throw a birthday party for me (and a welcome back party) and was a source of great entertainment for me in my life as the Designated Driver.

Monica loves to tell the story of how when I picked her up from a party one time, she had this strong urge to sing "Push" by Avril Lavigne, and had someone else in the car look up the lyrics so she could sing it.  It was a *coughcoughterrriblecoughcogh* wonderful serenade.

I like telling the story of Halloween sophomore year, when I followed Mava, Monica, and Bri to a party at Mava's brother's house.  I took Monica and Bri home and on the way, Monica INSISTED on stopping at Jimmy John's for their day old bread, saying it was a tradition.  Meanwhile, I was outside keeping Bri, who like before never said a word, awake.  Monica came out, and I got to watch her find a way to eat the loaf of bread - even giving samples to strangers passing by.  Later that night, Monica and I walked quite a ways across campus and it was one of the first times I'd ever really spoken to her.

For reasons that are far too complicated for this blog, Monica and I weren't really able to be friends until long after our many trips together in the Mustang.  But it was well, well worth the wait.

During the summer after junior year, when I was in South Carolina with my family enjoying life in paradise - but without Facebook and little to no contact with most of my friends - Monica was one of the few people who checked in with me, and she did so often.  As I wrote in my essay about the summer experience, that meant so much to me.  And, later in senior year, Monica and I started hanging out often, and had some of the deepest and most meaningful conversations I had had with anyone.

And, Monica was extremely helpful in the writing of the aforementioned script based on my driving.

I told her recently, in regards to how I developed a crush on her the night she threw up in my car, why I did.  And I told her it was because I've always been a pretty good judge of character, and I knew then - as I still do now - that Monica was one of the best people I'd meet.


Now, back to the road.  For this next section, I'll just list off memories.  And in certain situations, I've omitted people's names.

-A group of friends sending ridiculous, seductive "sext" messages to Ben Trout, then hunting him down in his impossible-to-find dorm room.

-Me, in my first encounter with Jennifer Woods, I told her, jokingly, "I fart a lot."  Because she was sitting in the car with me.  I know, it doesn't make sense.

-Me, at that first party, getting blankets for people to sleep with and trash bins for them to vomit into.

-A group of girls walking into the library because they wanted to dance there.  Then, grabbing books on sexual topics and placing them in front of a guy they knew, without saying a word.

-A friend being hit on by some creepy guy and telling him repeatedly, "you're so cheesy," and once quipping, "why would I give you my number?  You gonna call me?  I don't wanna talk to you!"

-Me being hit on by a gay guy at a party,

-Watching some friends run repeatedly into the bathroom at a party to throw up, then hiding their beers from them so they stopped drinking.

-My roommate Peter jumping out of cars, climbing trees and fences, leaving a house from the second-floor balcony, yelling "PARKOUR" the whole time.

-Finding a mug with the lid closed, opening the lid, and finding old vomit inside of it that smelled so bad we had to air the entire house out.

-Me, after helping a female friend out with some errands, being invited to sleep over in her bed.  It was the first time I'd shared a bed with a woman and I was so scared.

-Pulling off a "Chinese fire drill" with a bunch of drunk people.

-The many, many absurd conversations I eavesdropped on.

Now, two of my personal favorites.

On this first one, the details have been disputed for a long time, so we won't say what day of the week it was. But it was near St. Patrick's Day sophomore year.  I got a text message from my friend, Ginger, asking me to pick her up.  When I asked where, she gave me an intersection.

So I went to the location, kept texting her for specifics, but her texts became harder and harder to decipher.  I walked around town for about an hour.  Finally, I was told to go to Stucchi's, an ice cream shop on campus.

But, when I got to Stucchi's, it was closed.  All I saw was a guy cleaning up.  The chairs were up on the tables, everything was put away, and the lights were off.  I knocked on the door and the guy came and opened it for me.

"Is there a red-haired girl throwing up in your bathroom?" I asked.

He said yes, and let me in.  Ginger was there, with her friend Rebecca, and I got her home ok.


My last story is also pretty short.  It involves a guy named Tom MacDonald, a friend of a friend who was at a party.  I was outside and as I was coming in, he was talking to a girl.  He kept telling her "you're so special.  You deserve someone who is going to tell you that you are beautiful," and he proceeded to brush her hair back with his hand.

That girl was Emily Cedar, and this is the short version of our friendship.

I had known Emily for awhile before we started to really become friends, but when we did, she became one of my favorite people.  The thing about Emily that I love is just how plain cool she is.  She sings, plays guitar, is artistic, has great taste in just about everything, and is someone you just love being around. She's one of the few people I know who can always put a smile on my face.

Emily also let me into her family, which meant a lot to me.  I've gotten to know her parents, who still text me from time to time just to talk or see how I'm doing.  And how can I forget "the sexy librarian" that only Emily every really got to see from me?

I have two favorite Emily stories.  One is when I went to pick her up from a party one night, and we ended up staying up late watching The Golden Girls on TV (she had never seen it - Emily, when you read this: we need to do that again!).

My all-time favorite Emily story is how she let me sleep on her couch every Wednesday night fall semester of junior year.  It was a plan I came up with to: a) get away from the drama in my house, and b) to see Emily a little bit before she left for Australia.  It meant so much to me that we got to do that - Wednesday nights were the highlight of my week - and I doubt she'll ever really know how much I needed those nights.  Plus, in the process of me sleeping there, she helped me come up with ideas for what became my first-ever feature screenplay.


So, again, why was being a designated driver so important for me?  On top of meeting some great people in the process and having some fun stories to tell, it taught me a lot of valuable lessons.  Mostly, it taught me to not let people take advantage of me, and to get my priorities straight.  This role had a lot of negative effects for me, but I needed to go through that to get to where I am today.

4: "The Classy Parties"

I'm not a drinker.  I'm not a dancer.  I'm not a partier.  I'm not even that friendly most of the time, to be honest with you.  But give me a chance to get all dressed up and play host to my friends for a few hours, and I will run with it.

Number 4 on the Top 25 countdown: The Classy Parties.


Come Classy To Get Trashy (Classy I):

Admittedly, my memory of this night is not great.  I was completely sober, as I was for all of these parties, but it was just so long ago it's somewhat lost in the crowd now.

I do remember sitting down with my roommates, making the plans. And I remember tons of Luke's friends taking their shirts off, dirty dancing, and then at like 3 a.m. me having to ask a friend of Peter's named Tom McDonald to kick people out of the house so we could all go to bed.

But whatever else happened, it was a good enough time to make us want to do it again the next year.


Classy II: The Quest for the Ultimate Cover Photo

When Come Classy To Get Trashy 2011 came around, I had a plan.  Most of my friends were (and still are) pretty females, so I wanted a collage of all of them from the Classy Party for my Facebook cover photo (which was fairly new at that time) and to show off a bit.

The highlight of Classy II was when a girl got locked in Peter's bathroom and climbed out of the bathroom window.  It was, otherwise, another classy evening.  And, of course, this happened:

Classy III: Validation

Come Classy To Get Trashy 2012 was, in many ways, a social experiment.  

It was my first big party without my old roommates, and I was very scared of this because I knew the previous parties were more their thing and it was more their friends that came.  

On top of that, we were charging 5 dollars from everyone to help pay for drinks and supplies.  As classy as the house was, and as classy as our drinks were, that was nothing.  The problem was, anyone who had come to a party before at my house was used to not having to pay.  But every other party I had ever been to charged a cover, so it was strange to me how people reacted so negatively to me asking for five dollars.  A lot of people I thought were my friends refused to come because of it.

So, here I am, throwing my first solo party essentially, and I thought nobody was going to show up.  My roommate Lexi invited her sorority, but many of them couldn't make it, so I went out recruiting people.  I invited a bunch of my theatre friends, but was still less-than-optimistic going into it.  But we had a great setup: wine glasses, snacks, black and silver streamers.  

The night of the party, I started picking people up early and when I had everyone at the house, it was still dead.  There were maybe 15 people there.  Maybe.  That's being generous.  The old parties got into the 30s, 40s even.  I wanted to at least even that, both for my self-esteem and for my pride.

My friend Grace had somewhere else to be, so after she stayed awhile, I left to take her home and pick up my friend, Skye.  When I got back, I could not believe what I saw.  There was no room to walk in my house.  The living room was packed.  People were overflowing into the kitchen.  The basement was full.  All the drinks were gone.  There was a large group "wobble" taking place in the living room.

When all was said and done, we estimated there were at least 60 - maybe close to 70 - people there.  And, most of them paid 5 bucks.  We actually broke even that night, which was a plus.  And I proved to myself that I could throw a party without my old roommates.

More importantly, it was validation that I do have people who are good friends, who didn't just want to use me for my house, car, and free booze.  A LOT of my theatre friends came, had a great time, and MOST importantly, I had a great time.  Again.

BEST OF THE BEST

Unofficial Classy Party Awards

Best Picture:  Bethany Nagle and Loui Vong, 2011

Best Roommate Picture: Josh Jenkins and Lexi Ialungo, 2012

Best Photobomb: Jon FitzGerald and Devin Brooks, 2012

Best Dressed:  Jennifer Woods, 2011

Most Classy: Grace Hawkins, 2012

Best Awkward Zach and Ginger Picture:  Sarah Goslin, 2012

5: "How I Met Your Loui"

Kids, this is the story of how I met your Loui.

As you know, Loui is one of your dad's closest and best friends, but it wasn't always that way.

It all starts back in the fall of 2010.  I had just moved into the White House and we were throwing our first party: a surprise birthday party for my then-roommate, Casey.

Now, I knew none of the people at this party, outside of my roommates and one or two other people I'd met.  So, needless to say, I was a nervous wreck.  Not only was I at my first party, I was HOSTING my first party.  And I was upstairs almost throwing up, avoiding the party.

My friend Mava, one of the few people I already knew, came upstairs and told me something along the lines of "stop being a party pooper and get downstairs."

When I walked downstairs, I saw a house full of people I didn't know, so I went straight to the kitchen to get out of the way.  Then, I was stopped by a group of girls staring at our class schedules, which we had posted on the fridge.

"Zach, what the hell kind of a schedule is this?" were the first words Loui ever said to me.  It was pretty aggressive of someone I had never seen before in my life, but not nearly as much as her taking my phone to program a reminder of when her birthday was, and not nearly as much as what she said next.

"Zach, come be my beer pong partner."

Now, a couple things to note: a) I had just met her.  b) I had never played before.  c) we don't play with beer, so it's just "water pong."

Anyway, I said yes.  And we played, except she found out very quickly that I could not play, and that's when your Aunt Katie started making fun of me.  Loui joined in, and it was somewhat humiliating.  We lost, obviously.

Later that night, Loui, Aunt Katie, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Ginger had me take them to Taco Bell, the first of many such situations (but we'll get back to that another time).

Over time, Loui and I started to hang out more and more.  At first, though, it was a lot of me driving her places (mostly Taco Bell) and picking her up from parties.  And she was always VERY VERY mean to me.

One of my favorite instances of this was when she said, "Zach, you're so nice on Facebook but then in person you're really dull."  And the time she bought me Taco Bell and ate it all.

Another time, when I begged her to give me a compliment, she said, "I'm an honest person, Zach. If there was anything to compliment, I would."

And then there was the time she came up to me at a party, tried to sit on my lap, and then made fun of me for not knowing how to react (because I was legit freaked out).

She had a way of being very bossy, and at one point, my roommate, Luke, and your Aunt Julie sat me down and said, "we think you need to not be friends with Loui anymore.  She's so mean to you.  She takes advantage of you."  I told them they were wrong, that they didn't see how Loui acted in private.

They did see, however, the time she came to see my acting debut and barely acknowledged me afterwards when everyone was congratulating me.

But what they didn't see were the deep conversations.  The time Loui and sat on a swingset and swapped stories of our lives.  Or the times she'd come over to my house and keep me company, spend the night, take me out to eat.

And they didn't see the time Loui gave me what is still to this day one of the biggest compliments I have ever received.

I was helping her move into her new house.  Justin Verlander threw a no-hitter that night, and I was pissed I was missing it.  I tried to ask her to let me leave, but naturally, she wouldn't.  The job had to be finished.  So as we unpacked in her room, we got to talking and she made a comment about how I lived with an interesting group of guys: the slob, the nerd, and the closet gay guy (she loves all those guys, so I don't want to insinuate that she was being mean to them).

After a moment, I thought, 'hey what about me?'  So I asked her, "what do people call me?  What is my identifier?"  And she got silent for a second as I waited.  Whether she was being nice or not, I still don't know (but knowing she doesn't like to lie, I believe her), she said:

"Zach, you're the nice one."

THAT is the Loui I know and love.

I have tons of Loui stories.  And, most of them I've told many times before.  The time her and your Aunt Katie made me get out of bed two or three times before telling me to stay home.  The time she had me drive her halfway to Taco Bell and turn around.  The time she spilled a cake in my car.  And there are several more I've sworn never to repeat again.

But this might be my favorite Loui story.

I went to a movie with, I believe, my ex-roommate Luke, your Aunt Monica, and maybe her roommate Courtney, but there were a few movie nights I get confused now in my old age.  Anyway, Loui had asked me if she could watch the Red Wings game at my house.  I said yes, but told her I was leaving for the night but that she could stay and hang out.  She said she was fine with that, that maybe she'd have a couple of beers and make herself comfortable.

Then, during the movie, my phone buzzed.  It was the reminder she had set on my phone at that party long before.  Loui was alone, in my room, drinking by herself and watching TV alone...on her birthday.  I felt awful.  So, after the movie, I went with whoever I was with to the store to get her a cake and a bottle of wine.

When we got home, Loui was asleep in my bed, but we woke her up to sing happy birthday to her.

Now kids, Loui used to get really upset when I'd only post negative things about her on Facebook.  So, here's a few nice things to make up for it:

Flash-forward to the spring of 2013.  Loui and I have been friends for three years.  And she's the only friend who's been a real constant in my life during that time. We've had some crazy nights, sure, but what I remember most about Loui is how caring she is.  She truly is one of the most caring people I have ever met.  On one of the most difficult days of my life, the first person to call me was Loui, to see how I was, and then to tell me she was coming back to school (which was a big deal at the time).

I remember how during my summer exile from Facebook, she would Skype me late at night, a few times a week sometimes, just to talk.  She'd share stories of her summer, and let me do the same.  And considering most of my friends - and family - didn't even call me on my birthday, that says a lot.

Loui is such a good friend that her and I know we can say anything to each other, even if it's critical, knowing the other only has good intentions.  We've had some great conversations about stuff that wasn't always fun to talk about, but that is the sign of true friendship.

All in all, kids, this story makes the Top 5 because not only is it a fun story to tell, but meeting your Loui is one of the best things that happened to me in college.

6: "What Does 'Infantile' Mean?"

I mentioned in my opening post, in explaining this countdown, that the memories had to either be on-campus or related to school somehow.  That, unfortunately, eliminated so many great memories I've had the past four years with my family - memories that would fill up their own Top 25 that would very easily top this one.

But there is one memory that qualifies. In my previous entry, I said that 7 and 6 were both about football games.  Number 6 is about a very special football game at Michigan, one that was literally a dream come true for me. The time my family got to visit me on a football Saturday.

It's not just the football game aspect of it.  I missed out on having my family here because of their move to South Carolina. I had been to most of my friends' parents' houses, but my friends had barely met my family.  And I didn't have the ability to go home for a meal from my mom, or to see my brother's plays or my sister's dance recitals.  And that's been very, very hard for me.

So, when setting my budget for senior year, I made a request: that we use some of the financial aid money that was left over to buy tickets to a game and flights for my family to come visit me.  It was a wish of mine ever since they moved, and it finally was going to happen.

The game itself was not all that memorable.  But I loved being able to give everyone a tour of the renovated stadium, teaching my sister (who had never been to a game at all, unlike everyone else) about the traditions ("stand when the band plays, always").  She, in particular, was really in awe of it all.

And, we got this great picture out of it:

We made a great weekend of it, too.  My mom wanted one night to be able to make a big meal for me and my friends, and she sure did.  She even made separate things for people's various diets (vegetarians, lactose-intolerant) and went all out.  It was an incredible meal, and my family and friends all got to make fun of me together.  My mom and sister got to go on and on about stupid things I have said or done, and my friends got to laugh and agree with them.  The best moment was when my mom told me I am "infantile," which after having it explained to me I agree is a great fit.

Despite having to share my room with everyone, it was a wonderful weekend.  I felt, for really the first time, that I was sharing Michigan with my family.  For the same reason I always take my friends home to Stevensville, I wanted my family to come to Ann Arbor.

It was a great wish of mine, and the weekend fulfilled that wish - and then some.  It was truly one of the most amazing experiences ever, feeling like the little infantile boy I know I am, having family meals together and going to a game together.  

7: "Roy Roundtree in the Corner"

I've been to dozens of football games at Michigan Stadium.  Two, more than any, stand out the most.  Together, they are 7th- and 6th-best college memories.

The first is the first (and only) night game in Big House history, against Notre Dame my junior year.

The Notre Dame game had been a very up-and-down rivalry for me, personally.  My freshman year of high school, I had a ticket to the game but gave it up to march in a marching band competition.  The competition wasn't even scored, and - to make it worse - I had just moved to a new school and they didn't even have a drum for me to play yet.  So I literally marched around the field without an instrument; my mom still says it's the best she ever saw me play.

My second, first chance at a Notre Dame-Michigan game was my freshman year of college.  The date was September 12, 2009.  I had decided to skip the game to surprise my mom on her birthday, but as many of you reading this know, my nonno passed away that day (shortly before Tate the Great Forcier found Greg Mathews for a game-winning touchdown pass).

My last shot at a ticket to the game was also the most-hyped football game in Michigan history.  The first night game.  The top two all-time college football teams.  And yes, I made it to this one.

The game was so much more than a game.  It was an experience.  Before most people normally wake up, the streets were packed, parking lots were filling up, and parties were raging.  I had never seen a town so alive, yet alone MY town.  It was crazy.  Desmond Howard, the Michigan great, was honored before the game, and the place was packed (the largest crowd ever to watch a US football game).

And the game didn't disappoint.  Notre Dame took a 14-0 lead after the first quarter, and going into the fourth quarter they led 24-7.  I vividly remember turning to my grandpa at that point, when the crowd was starting to lose faith, and saying, "crazier things have happened here."

Right on cue, Michigan came storming back.  Denard Robinson ran in from a yard out to make it 24-14.  Three minutes later, a touchdown pass cut the lead to 4.

With six minutes to go, inside the Michigan 10-yard-line with a chance to ice the game, Notre Dame went to throw the winning touchdown pass.  And fumbled.  And Michigan recovered.  But failed to score.  So Notre Dame got it back.

Then, Michigan's defense came up big.  On a 3rd-and-1, Jake Ryan exploded into the backfield to make the stop.  So, Michigan football.  2:16 to play.  Then, all hell breaks loose.

First, on a third down, Michigan gets a god spot by the referees on a Denard keeper to hold on.

Then, a beautiful screen pass to Vincent Smith results in a touchdown.  28-24 Michigan. 1:12 left.

But WAIT!  Notre Dame, with 30 seconds to go, RETAKES THE LEAD.  The energy just dropped out of the place.  Michigan got the ball back inside their own 20 yard line with under 30 seconds to play.  Down 3.  They needed a miracle.  Like a penalty.  An act of God.  Christopher Lloyd wearing a baseball cap dressed as an angel flying down and delivering the ball to the endzone.  Or Notre Dame somehow forgetting to cover Jeremy Gallon deep down the right sideline...

...which, of course, happened.  I remember screaming at the top of my lungs, "I DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS STILL ON THE TEAM!"

115,000 people erupt.

8 seconds left.  Down 3.  16-yard line. Any coach in their right mind kicks a field goal for the tie.

But not our coach.  Not the fat guy with the hoarse voice who came to Michigan without a contract, and who famously said, "This is Michigan, for God's sake," when a reporter asked if it was still a glamorous job in the coaching industry.  No, Brady Hoke goes for the win.

My seats were in the southwest corner of the stadium.  My grandpa was on my left, as he was for every game I had been to at that point and all but one since.  The southwest corner.  Where this happened:

And then this happened:

And then, with no voice, I called my dad and screamed empty screams into the phone.  And hugged my grandpa and uncle.  And ran to my friend Julie's house to hug her.  

It took a week for my voice to come back, but it was so worth it.