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| 10/16/2005 |
| LARGE BEERS AND DIRTY TACOS: THE LIFE AND TIMES OF STEVE FARLEY. |
by Wes Bennett
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I- It Feels Like the First Time.
In the fall of 1998, a young Steve Farley, fresh faced and wide-eyed, arrived at the College of Georgia. He was clean-shaven, well mannered, trim and sober.
Within the first few days, Steve began to have visions at night. He built strange replicas of kegs in his mashed potatoes. Voices whispered to him. Some strange cosmic force was pulling him towards the Delta House and he didn’t know why.
When Steve stepped through the doors of the house owned by The Deltas, everyone on the premises could tell that something special was happening. It was a turning point in history, similar to when Einstein first held a test tube, when Picasso first picked up a brush or when Bon Scott first woke up covered in vomit.
The moment Steve tasted his first beer, a transformation took place, like Bill Bixby morphing into the Incredible Hulk.
When Steve started to drink, he was without limits or fear. He was in complete control and had absolutly no doubt about where he was and what he was doing. In many respects, he played the part of a rock star: everyone went absolutely crazy for anything he did. Never again would he be so powerful.
Four hours after his first beer, Steve found himself drenched in alcohol, pounding a bottle of Jack as 60 raucous frat members were worked into a frenzy chanting his name.
For the next 14 semesters, Steve ruled the Delta House like no had since the late 1940s, by performing an absolutely incredible routine.
He would arrive in a flowing red, silk robe with his patented “Eye of the Tiger” theme-music blaring from a rusted 1986 Sony Boombox. He would warm-up upstairs in the room of JJ “Bull” Doozer’s room by shootgunning a six pack and downing several large shots of Jagermeister.
The crowd would assemble downstairs and begin chanting his name louder and louder. “Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve!”
When they reached a peak in their intensity, Steve would come into the middle of the circle that contained, dozens, sometimes hundreds of people, who had come from miles around to watch.
Steve would slap his head and began spastically dancing. The masses would pass around a massive pitcher or beerbong, filling it with Gin, Vodka, Jager, Beer, Tequila, Bourbon or anything else on the premises, sometimes oil or straight bleach. After draining its contents, he would dance in the middle calling for more and more until he could no longer stand. Sometimes he would even put on a wig and lipstick in his delirium, but no one really knew why.
Steve could push the limits of consumption and intoxication like no other living entity. He would finish by standing in the circle taking random bottles of Vodka, Beer or anything else the crowd would give up. No one in attendance would fail to be impressed by Steve’s will, fortitude, heart and endurance. It was clear they were watching an artist at the absolute peak of his powers.
After Steve collapsed, he would regroup and drag himself into a wheelchair, so he could consume even more. The process would repeat itself until he passed out again.
At this point, Delta brother, Doug “Milkman” Daniels would usually end up wheeling Steve around on a “Tour of Victory,” in which he would journey through the front lawn, the streets, the neighboring frat houses and the Sonic parking lot where Steve would make inaudible advances on underage women and before finally trekking back up stairs to complete the “Halls of Medicine,” where Steve would down even more Vodka as his fans on either side cheered him on.
Steve would usually pass out for at least an hour. Upon waking up, he would behave extremely violently by grabbing whatever he could find in order to shatter on the front porch of the house, including Computers, Mannequins, cats, TVs and even toilets.
Steve would then go on stage and preach. His words were incoherent, rambling, ridiculous and slurred, but his amazing charisma and energy would captivate crowds until he passed out for good, surrounded by bottles, cans, wigs, hula-hoops, pogo balls and stuffed animals.
Sometimes Travis or one of Steve’s fraternity brothers would attempt to revive him, but it was of no use. Once Steve crashed, whether on stage or outside, he could not be revived for at least twelve hours without the aid of freezing water or some sort of caustic liquid.
Once Steve started performing in 98, there was no turning back. The pressure was tremendous week in and and week out. He was always expected to outdo himself from the weekend before. Steve had a streak very much like Cal Ripkin, performing the routine with broken limbs and various illnesses on many different occasions that would have made Lou Gehrig proud. The events had been documented on many different websites and publications. The rough footage of the parties was the stuff of legend and had circulated all over the lower South East.
II- Habib vs. The People Who Live in Huts.
Steve had a highly addictive personality. As well as downing beers and making inaudible advances on high school girls, it wasn’t long before the Fraternity’s infatuation with Texas Hold ‘Em and The World Series of Poker, resulted in weekly Thursday night sessions of competition. Over the past few years, he easily lost thousands of dollars in the house poker room.
Steve was literally one of the worst poker players on campus. But because of his Granddad, Jeremiah “Stever” Farley, who had actually been the Delta house player of the year on three separate occasions back in the late 1940s, he would never quit.
All too often, Steve would look on the far wall at his Granddad's picture while he was playing, rub the watch that Jeremiah had given him for luck and continue to play on, with the hopes of winning his money back.
Because of this chronic gambling addiction, Steve would never have enough money to pay dues, so for the past four years he had not officially been a member of the fraternity. But since Steve lost so much money on Thursdays, there was an understanding that he would always be welcome.
Because of the chronic debt, Steve had attempted a number of scams over the years, mostly while the Deltas were gone on their annual Co-Ed nude Skiing trips. He had once gone as far as to hire a 400 pound stripper named Suki, letting people pay 10 dollars a head to feed her pieces of raw chicken. Steve made close to 2,000 dollars, but Suki was so engorged from her feedings, that she could no longer fit through the door and a piece of the wall had to be removed. This and the infamous “House of Pudding,” had left the house in disaster and Steve in financial ruin.
For the 2005 trip, Doozer was hospitalized from falling off the roof. So, once again, the Deltas reluctantly put Steve in charge. Despite his infamous history of antics, Steve avoided the annual trip because he was deathly afraid of snow.
Due to recent Poker setbacks, Steve needed to make some money fast. One day while walking past the foreign exchange dorm, Steve had an idea that both would earn him money and help him extract revenge on the people that he had harbored a deep hatred of since the tender age of eleven.
Growing up, Steve caught the bus for Washington Booker Middle School outside the “Heaven Stop Quickie Mart.” The bus was always late, so Steve and his friends would be forced to wait for extended periods of time outside the convenience store.
The boys were a mischievous bunch, mooning cars, popping tires and beating up mentally challenged students. But never, had they dared to do anything inside the walls of the Quickie Mart. Abdul ruled the store with an iron fist. But Steve, always wanting to be the center of attention, accepted a dare to shoplift a case of the spicy beef jerky.
He was caught red-handed by Mr. Muhammad, who went completely berserk. In Muhammad’s mind, nothing was worse than a thief. Abdul screamed for nearly an hour as young Steve sobbed in fear. Only the arrival of the police prevented Abdul from severing Steve’s hand. Steve would be forever haunted by the crazed look in Abdul’s eye.
Not only was Steve banned from the store, but Abdul posted a giant picture of Steve’s face in the Quickie Mart window with the words “thief” written on his forehead. He even went as far as to mercilessly heckle Steve when he waited at the bus-stop by calling out, “Jerky Boy, Jerky Boy. There goes the Jerky Boy!”
The heckling was highly effective and soon Steve was known all over school by the demeaning nickname. “Jerky Boy” was eventually written all over his books, locker and “ThunderCat’s” Trapper Keeper.
As a result, Steve had developed a deep seeded mistrust of all people from the Middle East, believing they were a cruel race who, “Lived in Huts,” and only came to American to work in connivence stores and exploit it’s people by overcharging for candy and flavored slurpees.
So when Steve walked past the Pakistani Convention Center, the memories came flooding back and he was convinced that he now had the best idea of his illustrious collegiate career.
The foreigners could barely speak English and had no idea what they were doing. Steve easily made them believe the twos and threes were the best cards, while the Aces and face cards should never be played. Over a four day period, Steve won the clothes off their backs and made close to four thousand dollars.
The next week when the Deltas returned from the trip, Steve had managed to line up yet another sucker so his brothers could get a piece of the action.
Everyone was assured that it was a sure thing. Steve explained that they would all be given money by rich, hapless exchange students who could barely speak English and couldn’t wait to hand over their clothes and the rest of their possessions. All the guys showed up with high expectations to take advantage of the sucker, only they didn’t know that the “sucker” was actually the three time Pakistani National Champion, Habib Manjeet.
Over the course of the game, one by one, all the Delta’s were forced to drop out of the game after Habib cleaned them out. But Steve was determined to take a stand and with the American flag in the background and his brothers looking on, there was no backing down. Eventually Steve lost the four thousand dollars he had won, and went on to lose an additional five and even Jeremiah’s prized watch.
Making matters even worse was the fact that House President, Lance Osbourne, had blown all the money in the house trust in a alcohol-fueled haze of anger.
With all the money gone, the annual House of Strippers, the single biggest event on campus, would have to be canceled. It was a travesty of epic proportions and the blood was all over Steve’s hands.
III- A Man of Many Habits.
A-The Renaissance Club
Early in his twelfth semester, Steve received his 67th alcohol ticket. Over the years, Steve had committed a number of shocking and indecent acts while intoxicated, including defecating on the Dean’s lawn, singing “Don’t Stop Believing” over the campus PA and putting all of The Kenarden dorm’s furniture on the state highway.
Although the majority of these incidents were isolated, there was one action that Steve would never be able to stop doing. A common sight for almost any person going to an 8 am class or a morning jog, was Steve passed out in the front yard, still drunk, with any number of clothes on. The campus Police would write up a ticket and leave it in Steve’s pocket. Waking him up sometimes took up to 45 minutes and after awhile, they learned that it just wasn’t worth the hassle.
Steve would eventually wake up, rub his head and be disgusted with himself. He would be seized by an incredible hunger and search for an old bagel, a pizza, or anything he could find on the ground to tide himself over, even an old, rancid beer.
Steve was finally brought in front of the school disciplinary Council. He was obligated to began a permanent public service program for the duration of his Collegiate tenure.
Council President Ed “O’Neill” Jones suggested some sort of club built around the benefits of classical appreciation, that would educate the student body about the art, music and culture of man’s most innovative and productive period: the Age of Enlightenment.
Steve was required to organize and lead this so called “Renaissance Club” once a week for at least an hour.
Steve put up some flyers, attracted three Dungeon and Dragons obsessed, socially awkward freshman, complete with outfits and complex 15th century personas. Each week they would meet with Steve, who would arrive with nothing except a hat, sword and beer, which he would convince them was actually “mead.”
He would force his subjects to drink for the entire hour, making occasional comments relating to DiVinci, Donatello, Michael Angelo and any other figures whom Steve could remember from watching “Teenage Mutant Ninji Turtles.”
They would meet each week in the North Campus quad, early on Friday morning. Steve would force them to drink heavily, especially if anyone attempted to bring up any topic of relevance besides the dues. Steve would adjourn the meeting when all three of the members could no longer remember where they were.
B-The Karaoke Hour.
Steve was even more feeble at singing than he was at acting. During his five year stint in the Concert Choir at Clearwater Middle, he was never granted a solo and his occasional voice-cracking and chronic ineptitude resulted in him being told to lip-synch through all the major performances. Even this setback could never truly quench his thirst for the majesty of song.
In the halls of the Caledonia Lounge, with only himself and a smattering of drunks, Steve would sing his heart out. It was always very therapeutic and soothing. He would try to reserve the trips for moments of extreme sorrow or triumph.
Although it was usually during the middle of the day when the bar was sparsely attended, Steve liked to perform incognito. Sometimes he would wear a cowboy hat and boots to sing Hank Williams, gold chains and a peice for Dre, or a leather coat and overzealous hair for Poison.
He would sing Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is,” after meeting a girl, “Everybody Hurts” when he was sad and “Eye of Tiger” when he was excited. Steve always insisted on changing the words, which would never cease to annoy the owner.
C-DeNiro.
In addition to singing, Steve had cultivated a love of acting during his childhood. Travis had recruited Steve for several crude action films where he would perform his own stunts. There was almost nothing that Steve wasn’t willing to do. He would subject his body to an absolute battery of abuse including jumping off cars, riding bicycles into walls and sticking his head in a bucket of goat’s blood.
In the years following his singing career, Steve had been a marginally successful theater actor. Even though he was reduced to playing supporting roles in comedies and musicals, Steve always dreamed of being the star in a more dramatic production, never realizing the limits of his talent. According to Steve, he was only one performance away from achieving a Robert DeNiro-like level of excellence.
Steve was convinced that his big break had arrived in the form of “Cry the Morning Flower.” He thought that maybe the short video would impress Dr. Roberts, that it would get it into film festivals and that both the public and filmaking community would finally discover and appreciate his talents.
During filming, Steve was initially confused because he had no idea what Travis was trying to achieve artistically. Although the project was clearly a disaster, Steve truly felt as though he had poured out his soul for the camera because of the heart wrenching scene where he was forced to cry after the loss of his wife. Steve was finally able to tap into the dark place inside himself, unfortunately Travis had left the lens cap on. Despite these minor setbacks, Steve truly believed the short would be his finest hour and relentlessly questioned Travis about the project.
D-Barely Legal Porn.
In sharp contrast to his singing and acting, Steve had some far less respectable habits. In the rare instances that Steve would manage to arrive back at the house after an extended drinking session, he had developed the habit of viewing some of the X-rated movies that Fletch kept on his computer. One night, Steve stumbled upon a movie of far darker content that he would never be able to forget.
Raw, grainy footage of a Donkey show, just south of El Paso, that not only would haunt Steve’s dreams forever, but somehow changed him. Like the movie “8 MM,” you dance with the devil, the devil don’t change, he changes you.
These images deeply disturbed Steve, yet proved to be somehow addictive. His sense of morbid curiosity, much like being unable to turn away from a car-wreck, would repeatedly prevail. Steve began downloading more and more of these extreme video clips. When Fletch put his foot down, Steve’s only option was to use Travis’ iBook.
Travis would innocently leave his computer in the living room and soon Steve started downloading materials that he would erase in his stupor before he went to bed. Travis would occasionally find bits and pieces of clips which would lead to heated confrontations.
Steve would always act oblivious when questioned and deny everything. Travis just let it go, because up until the “Cobra Blood” incident, there had never been too much of a problem. Steve didn’t like to lie, but his insidious addiction to dog porn, was just something that even he was too ashamed to discuss.
IV- The End Game.
Down thousands of dollars, and having lost his Grandfather’s prized watch to Habib, Steve had little choice except to help out Travis in any way he could after he came up with the idea for the Challenge. Steve pledged his full and undivided help, promising to do anything he could.
Steve was initially so excited that he spent much of the prep time singing Survivor songs at The Caledonia Lounge instead of helping Fletch, Walker, Adam, John and Travis hand out flyers to attract competitors and an audience.
The week before the Challenge, Steve had completely forgotten about it. He assumed the competition was the following month and had neglected to come up with even the most basic strategy.
Steve had not really consumed any milk in years and was unable to hang with even the competitors of much smaller stature such as Pat or Lucy. He assumed that his stomach was tough from years of funneling everything from Arabian Goat Urine, to unfiltered diesel fuel. But milk was a completely foreign substance all together.
Steve wasted nearly all of the contest making White Russians and drinking beer, at one point guaranteeing intoxication to Dr. Nick. His only moment of productivity would be a crowd-pleasing regurgitation, that was mainly notable for how dark it was, prompting some to compare the shade to that of a Burrito.
Going into the premiere, Steve’s work ethic had not improved. They had a movie that had an outside shot at turning into a cultural phenomenon. And better still, all of the profits from the challenge would go towards buying Steve’s watch back.
But Steve did not make any kind of effort to sell tickets. With a mediocre turnout, Steve could only hope, as he had for most of his life, that someone or something would bail him out.
POSTSCRIPT.
Travis once asked Steve what his Philosophy on life was. After a brief hesitation he replied, “I don't know where I am most of the time, I don't always make the best decisions and I'm not even sober... ever. But am I going to do my best? Yes. Am I going to take advantage of the situation? Sure. As long as there is no real work or commitment involved, I'm there and I will give 100%. Above all else, no matter what happens, if I can manage to have a beer in my hand, I know that things things can still get worse.”
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| "We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then question the manner in which I provide it." |
- Jack Nicholson
A Few Good Men
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Distributed Beers
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| 5 |
Sierra Nevada Bigfoot |
| 4 |
Guinness Draught |
| 3 |
Newcastle Brown Ale |
| 2 |
Bass Pale Ale |
| 1 |
Samuel Adams Boston Lager |
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