A miracle occurred this past weekend for James Christian. “Last thing I remember I was playing beer pong Friday night. Then it was Sunday morning,” Christian described.
Christian’s twelve closest friends witnessed the event in awe. “He took every shot on Friday like a champ,” his pal Andrew recalled fondly.
“James was a hit among the Delta Zeta girls, too. They all said they’d nail him,” Matt said with a twinge of jealousy.
Despite this seemingly successful evening, it was clear that James was reaching his limits. “He fell down Beaver Ave three times. I had to carry him into bed,” said Chi Phi fraternity brother Simon.
On Saturday, Christian was nowhere to be found. “I wanted Waffle Shop Saturday morning, but James never answered his phone. He didn’t even come to frisbee at Old Main,” explained Peter.
By Sunday morning, however, Christian had returned. “I found all these strange cuts and bruises that I couldn’t remember getting, and the door to my apartment was taken off its hinges.”
Christian’s best friends developed a new sense of respect for him, “If he can survive such a good Friday night, James is our hero.”
For James, this was a life-changing event. “I feel like I’ve been given a new life. I’m reborn.”
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