University of Maryland Archives ⋆ Page 2 of 3 ⋆ Shawn Collins' Blog

How I Managed to Break My Nose in College (Without Being in a Fight)

June 10, 2026 by Shawn Collins

It was the night of Friday, October 30, 1992, and we didn’t have a party going on at the fraternity that night. So, I got a handful of brothers and the pledge class and headed to the Cellar, a beer bar at the University of Maryland that was the easiest to get into for underage students.

The bar was pretty dead when we got there, and we took turns buying pitchers and dancing. After an hour or so, more people started filtering in, and the dance floor got increasingly more crowded.

I was a few beers in and feeling good when a fist came out of nowhere and smashed me square on the nose. I never saw it coming. This guy who threw the sucker punch never said a word to me.

All I knew was that it hurt like hell and I couldn’t see anything for a few seconds. Then, I realized blood was gushing out of my nose. This guy broke my damn nose. My shirt was covered in blood, and I pinched it to try and stop the blood flow.

Some guys who were with me helped me back to the Pi Kappa Alpha house. It was just around the corner, but my painful face made it hard to navigate. As we walked through the front door, my brother, Mike, and a couple of other guys were there, and he asked what had happened.

I told Mike how a bunch of us were just drinking and dancing at the Cellar, and a random guy threw a sucker punch at me. He told me to go up, change out of my bloody shirt, and come back down.

When I returned to the front door, Mike and Rob, a fraternity brother who played on the University of Maryland hockey team, told me to go with them back to the Cellar. When we got back inside, they asked me to point out who punched me. He was outside the bathrooms with three or four of his brothers, and I let Mike and Rob know.

The next thing I knew, Mike and Rob were throwing hands at all of those guys, and within like 30 seconds, they’d dropped each and every one. I felt better, but still wanted to go back to my room and chill.

Before I could do that, one of the guys in our house said I should go to the hospital and get it looked at. I hopped in his car, and we were off to the emergency room, where we spent the next many hours waiting to be seen.

When I finally got to go back and have a doctor look at me, they spent just a few minutes cleaning me up, putting tape across my face, and said I should ice it often and sleep with my head elevated.

When I got back to my room, I crashed hard until lunchtime. My face looked rough in the mirror. This white piece of tape was holding my nose in place, and everything around it was red, except for under my eyes, both of which were on the way to being black eyes.

We had a Halloween party scheduled that night, and one good thing to come out of all of this was that I figured out my costume… a prizefighter. All I needed was a robe, so that was cool.

That Saturday also happened to be the day I was going to meet my girlfriend’s father for the first time. We made plans for lunch, and I hadn’t mentioned anything to her before meeting up, so she was surprised and concerned when I rolled up with a bashed-in nose.

I was worried her dad would think I was some knucklehead who got into fights regularly, so I apologized when I met him and told him the story. He just laughed and said he was in the Air Force and saw many broken noses from nights at the bar.

The next couple of weeks were very uncomfortable. I couldn’t blow my nose, and when I slept, if my nose even brushed against my pillow, it would make my eyes water from the pain.

But I am a glass half full guy, and I did realize a benefit from this punk surprising me with his cowardly fist. Before the punch, my nose was slightly crooked. After I got punched and then healed, my nose was more or less straight. I’d gotten a free rhinoplasty, so there was a benefit at the end.

Thanks for having my back, Mike and Rob.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

When Pi Kappa Alpha Ran ACAmania at the University of Maryland

May 27, 2026 by Shawn Collins

It was early 1989 when my PiKA brother, Rich Dickson, mentioned at one of our chapter meetings that the fraternity would be running a large-scale, multi-day sale of ACA JOE clothing to benefit Family Stress Services in Washington, D.C.

Dickson’s mother ran the retailer, ACA JOE, at the time, and Rich organized ACAmania with some other fraternity brothers. The event took place at Ritchie Coliseum on the University of Maryland campus.

The whole building was filled with tables with merchandise from ACA JOE, and all of us helped to put out clothes, ring up sales, etc. I guess we were selling all of their clearance items, since the prices were cheap, and tons of students came through and bought the gear.

I have no idea how well the final sales went, but $5,000 was donated to Family Stress Services, and the clothing we sold was all over campus for years after. I bought a bunch of stuff, including some rugby shirts with thin, colorful stripes and a blue jacket with shoulder pads (I regretted that one, but wore it for a while because I needed a jacket).

As we were promoting the event, a photographer came to the fraternity house to get a picture of us all wearing our ACA JOE t-shirts on the front porch.

They made posters from the picture, which were displayed at the ACA JOE stores, and I still have my copy. But those clothes are long gone.

In the December 1989 edition of Shield and Diamond (the magazine from the national headquarters of Pi Kappa Alpha), the recap of our chapter (Delta Psi) mentioned ACAmania…

Delta Psi chapter also presented an ACAMANIA weekend in April, a giant clothing sale which raised money for Family Stress Services in Washington, D.C., to help fight child abuse.

There was more coverage in the Shield & Diamond chapter notes in the March 1990 issue about the first ACAmania and the upcoming second event.

ACA-MANIA was a major effort put forth this year by the chapter. Pioneered by Rich Dickson, with a hard-working support staff including Andrew Auwerda, Rob Bruno, and Joe Millman, this venture has been widely successful. The chapter is now on the verge of the second annual ACA-MANIA at Maryland, and several similar undertakings have been launched at Pike chapters around the country. The three-day public awareness and fundraising event is designed to bring attention to the problem of child abuse and is underwritten by ACA JOE, a leading men’s specialty retail chain.

Family Stress Services, the D.C. Chapter National Committee for Prevention of Child Abuse, was the recipient of a $5,000 donation. Judy L. Rhodes, Executive Director of Family Stress Services, writes: “I have never been more impressed. The organizational and managerial skills that your fraternity displayed would give credit to some of the best public relations and fundraising firms on the East Coast.

You designed and orchestrated this project with obvious respect for professionalism. Everything from T-shirts and poster design to radio, television, and print media coverage was completed with an eye for detail and perfection. You were able to secure not just public service announcements, but in-depth interviews with noted personalities.

You managed to acquire, display, and sell (at +50% discount!) quality merchandise from ACA JOE, a very reputable clothier. You even managed to salvage the event from a major rainstorm. The other support activities – soft drink and food sales, lotteries, and a disk jockey-topped an already impressive function.” Congratulations to Delta Psi on a job well done.

And after all of these years, what’s Brother Dickson up to? He’s been the CEO of Gap, Inc. since the summer of 2023, after working as President of Mattel, where he made Barbie relevant again.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

Fraternity Away Weekends Were Fun and a Little Weird

May 20, 2026 by Shawn Collins

I was at the University of Maryland for five years and one summer session, but I only went to four away weekends while I was there. During my final semester, in 1993, the fraternity’s finances were a bit unstable, and we didn’t have one.

We went to Williamsburg, VA, for two or maybe three of them, and also Nags Head, NC. I went with my first college girlfriend for the first two, and then my second college girlfriend for the third and fourth.

Well, in 1991, my date was a future girlfriend, because we didn’t really know each other. We met during Greek Week, and a couple of weeks later, we were headed to Nags Head.

I guess it didn’t really feel that weird at the time, but looking back, it had the potential to be very awkward to go away for the weekend with a cute stranger and rooming with a friend who was also with someone he barely knew.

It was a blast for me. I didn’t have a driver’s license, so my friend, roommate, and good sport, Chris, drove from College Park, MD, to Nags Head, NC with his date riding shotgun, and I was in the backseat with my date.

Before we set out, I grabbed a twelve-pack of beer for the ride, and we had a little backseat party going on. Chris’ date didn’t want any of the beers, so it was all for us.

I’d guess it was somewhere around Richmond, VA, when we were each a few beers or so in, and we started making out in the back. At one point, I looked up at the rear-view mirror, and Chris was glaring at me.

We laughed and laughed and had an awesome weekend.

Nags Head was my favorite spot, but I also had lots of fun in Williamsburg, VA, when we went there. During one of those away weekends, we went to the Pi Kappa Alpha chapter at William & Mary for a party, and it was cool to meet some brothers at another school.

In addition to having a formal during the weekend, we also spent a day at Busch Gardens Williamsburg riding roller coasters and drinking beers at Das Festhaus.

It probably wasn’t a great idea to drink many beers and go on amusement park rides, but back then, nothing hurt, and everything was easy.

During the formal in Williamsburg on our 1992 Away Weekend, the remaining guys from my pledge class gathered for a picture. It’s neat to see that moment frozen in time, because I still feel like I am still there 34 years later.

I didn’t manage to make it to a spring break until my final semester, so these away weekends were the best vacations of my year from 1989-1992. So many memories and smiles. It would be so cool to go back for one more day.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

Frat Boys Scalping Tickets to Pay for Tuition

May 13, 2026 by Shawn Collins

The first time I can remember waiting out for tickets was probably early 1987 for the Genesis “Invisible Touch” tour that came through Maryland in May 1987. I was jammed in my friend Matt’s VW bus with a handful of Pi Kappa Alpha brothers. Matt and I were still in high school.

It was freezing outside as we waited to buy the Genesis tickets at the Hecht’s department store in Laurel, MD. We got paid something like $50 or $60 for the night to buy tickets, and that was huge to me, since I was making around minimum wage as a movie theatre usher.

After that night, it became a regular thing. We’d sleep out on the streets of Richmond, VA, Washington, DC, and various places around Maryland. My brother, Mike, worked with a ticket broker, Ricky (Ticket Rick) Rae, and he would set up the ticket waitouts.

When I got to college, the chance to sleep out for tickets and make money was a highly sought-after gig. Mike would put up a sign-up list at the PiKA house, and guys would race to get on it. In addition to the nightly pay, we’d also get pizza and beer to fuel us for the nights and days.

This was the era of the big stadium concerts from the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Grateful Dead, Rolling Stones, U2, and The Who. Lots of those ticket waitouts were multiple days, and we’d stay in sketchy areas, where no one else wanted to wait, so we’d get the front spots.

Sometimes, I’d also sell tickets in the parking lots of concerts in Maryland and Washington, DC. That was a whole lot more lucrative, except for the time that I decided to buy a bunch of tickets for the Cure and couldn’t sell any. Those charges hurt when I couldn’t pay off my high-interest credit card.

Anyhow, those times sleeping out with a bunch of guys from the frat were a good time. There was this one time, there were probably a dozen of us sleeping at RFK Stadium in Washington for the Who.

During the long nights of beers and hanging out, someone came up with a drinking game called Whoville. I don’t remember how to play, but it involved dice and lots of drinking.

When tickets went on sale for U2’s Zoo TV tour, a large group of us again waited at RFK in late April 1992. In addition to the PiKA crowd waiting out, a guy named Redskins Rob brought out ten or so homeless guys to wait in line, as well. Our crew of middle-class frat boys and Rob’s homeless guys became fast friends and partied and laughed for days.

The Washington Post covered the U2 waitout and heralded how University of Maryland students were beating the scalpers.

After an 80-hour ordeal — four nights stuffed in a car, three days breathing bus exhaust, scarfing Cokes and franks, running blocks for pit stops — the three University of Maryland seniors who camped out at RFK Stadium prevailed. They beat the scalpers to U2 concert tickets.

At 8 a.m. today they would be, if all went as planned, first on line at the RFK box office. By 9 a.m. the 52,000-seat stadium will sell out, predicted a Ticketmaster official.

“It’s what you got to do to get good seats,” said Crawford Conniff, 22, stretched out near the stadium among traffic island dandelions.

“We have unlimited time,” said Mike Collins, 22. “If we had a job making 50 grand, we could pay $150 to scalpers.”

Actually, $150 sounds cheap for the $28.50 face-value tickets. Today’s ticket sale for the Aug. 15 concert, one of the summer’s hottest, is likely to ignite an orgy of profiteering.

When the band played Los Angeles, scalpers scored up to $1,200 a ticket for prime seats. In Washington, as early as Tuesday, ticket brokers had stationed students, unemployed and even homeless people at ticket outlets to snap up hundreds of choice seats.

Those scalping days weren’t all glory, though. Sometimes I ran into trouble while selling tickets. I got robbed at both the 1994 Sugar Bowl in New Orleans and a Grateful Dead show in Washington around the same time.

After college, I was underemployed for a while and kept slinging tickets whenever I could. I was also trying to make it as a writer, and I wrote up a freelance article about scalping (Diary of a Ticket Scalper) experiences that was mostly a troll. I got paid $100 by the New York Press (an alternative to the Village Voice at the time), and it elicited some angry letters to the editor.

That article caught the attention of worldwide performing artist Citizen Cope years later, and he sent me a DM on Instagram about it. It wasn’t random, though. I often ran into Cope in the 90s, when he also sold tickets on the streets of Baltimore and DC. I still have his first CD, which he sold to me out of his trunk while we were scalping Pearl Jam at Constitution Hall in January 1995.

It’s been years since I sold tickets, but it all came full circle in 2018 when I met actor Robert Romanus, who played ticket scalper Mike Damone in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

“Scalper? Did you call me a scalper? Listen, gentlemen, I perform a service here, and the service costs money.”

– Mike Damone, Fast Times at Ridgemont High

I miss those days of sleeping and selling tickets on the streets. So many fun, long nights with fraternity brothers and strangers. Those hot showers when we got home were so amazing. And so many of us managed to chip away at our college bills because of it.

Ticket Rick passed away twenty years ago. RIP Ricky.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

The Night the Fraternity House Went Up in Flames

April 29, 2026 by Shawn Collins

I graduated from the University of Maryland on May 20, 1993, and for the last two years of college, I lived in the Pi Kappa Alpha house at 4340 Knox Road.

The house was far from perfect, but it was home, and I was sad to move out and on to the real world. And then, a month after I graduated, the national fraternity took away our charter and sold the house. It was the end of an era, and it sucked.

“Now you can tear a building down

But you can’t erase a memory

These houses may look all run down

But they have a value you can’t see…”

– “Open Letter (to a Landlord)” by Living Colour

I’d go back to College Park to visit friends, and we usually ended up back on the porch of our old house, drinking a 40 of Private Stock. Some guys would sneak in and do some urban exploring, but mostly we just wanted to visit our old friend.

That old house had a lot of personality and so many memories from over the years. Sure, there was usually no hot water, and I didn’t have a thermostat in either room I lived in. I lived on beds and couches passed down by guys graduating.

And our house smelled like stale beer, puke, weed, and industrial cleanser. There was no air conditioning, lots of roaches and rats, and the bathrooms were straight out of a crackhouse, but it sure was charming in its own way. Plus, we could see how long the line was to get into the Vous from the front porch.

Even though our chapter, Delta Psi, of Pi Kappa Alpha, had lost the charter in 1993, I held out hope that one day the chapter would recolonize and buy back the house, so we’d all have a place to gather and visit for Homecoming and other occasions.

While there were some bad days there as a pledge, the house held so many good times, smiles, friends, and love. It was too special to just go away for good.

“I’ll tell you this – I’m gonna get my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames!”

– Jim Morrison, The Doors

But the house was gone for good on Wednesday, March 29, 1995. A “suspicious fire” tore through the house, and it took about a dozen fire departments and 80 firefighters to extinguish it. That was the official end.

This house, which meant so much to so many for generations, was just gone one day. The whole thing was erased to make way for a generic apartment building for rich kids.

It didn’t seem real. This house that I was scared to walk into during rush in the fall of 1988, and then, scared again for where my future was taking me, when I walked out for the final time in May 1993. It was just gone like it never existed.

“This is the house we used to live in

This is the place I used to know

This is the house we used to live in

Where I felt I could always go

House that we used to live in

House where I left my heart

House that we used to live in falling apart”

– “House We Used to Live In” by The Smithereens

But it will always be standing there in the hearts of so many of us. RIP Buzz Parker.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

Greek Weeks Were My Favorite Weeks in College

April 22, 2026 by Shawn Collins

Springtime in college meant fraternities pairing up with sororities for Greek Week, an annual, week-long tradition filled with parties, philanthropy, and various competitions.

In spring 1991, at the University of Maryland, Pi Kappa Alpha (?KA) asked Kappa Alpha Theta (KA?) to partner, and then my pledge brother Joe Incaprera and I ran as co-Greek Week chairs to organize the week’s events with Theta.

Joe and I put together a couple of fliers for the Greek Week chair election, and we went on to get elected to handle the Greek Week festivities.

After the election, we got together with our fellow chair on the Theta side, Kathleen Gamboa, and started making plans. There were lots of fun events like kickball, ultimate, chariot races, and a carnival, as well as a philanthropy event where members of the fraternity and sorority served as huggers at the Special Olympics. But, really, the focus was on a week of parties.

We put together a schedule with one or more parties every day for six days. Things kicked off with an opening bash at a local firehouse, and continued with four-way and six-way parties packed with kegs, live music, and revelry. The week of parties wrapped up with WHFS DJ Neci spinning records at the PiKA house.

Throughout the week, we may have won some stuff. I don’t actually remember, but we had a lot of fun. I don’t think we ever won overall Greek Week in the five springs I was there. I still have some beach scopes from the week – I guess we sold them as fundraisers.

On the Friday night of Greek Week, I had to sneak out from some of the nighttime partying to go see the Dead Milkmen at the Student Union. I tried to convince them to come back to the house to party, but they had to head on to their next city.

I think I took this last picture during the dance or lip-sync contest at Ritchie Coliseum. I’d like to say I applied some sort of artistic treatment to make some or most of the stuff look blurry and frenzied, but I just had a crappy camera.

Those weeks were some of my favorites, except for when I’d trade a set of letters to some random person and never see them again. But I always gained a Greek Week t-shirt to add to my giant collection of frat t-shirts.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

I Got Arrested at the Fraternity Pledge Camping Trip

April 16, 2026 by Shawn Collins

It was just weeks after I became a pledge when I saw a sign at the frat house about a pledge camping trip. I’d never gone camping before, so I was pretty excited. Each pledge had to bring a case of beer for the weekend.

We drove from the University of Maryland out to western Maryland at some campsite. There were two other groups there for the weekend, a couple of families with campers and some Boy Scouts.

After getting our tents set up, we started pounding beers, eating hot dogs and hamburgers, and having a good time overall. But as it got late, one of the brothers lashed out at the pledges because we’d run out of beer and food. We brought the beer we were asked to bring and had nothing to do with the food, but getting blamed for stuff that wasn’t our fault was something I was already used to.

Everyone was drunk, so nobody was driving anywhere to find more food and beer, even if there was anyplace open by then. I went with my dorm roommate and pledge brother, Scott, to wander around, and we decided we’d grab some alcohol and food from a cooler at the neighboring camp.

We came back as heroes with a couple of steaks, some ham, beer, and wine coolers. Brothers were happy, and we went to sleep.

The next morning, we woke up to a bunch of yelling and peeked out of our tent to see a park ranger shouting at some brothers. The campers we’d robbed had reported it, and the park ranger came over to our camp, since he figured the frat boys were more likely to be the culprits than some literal Boy Scouts.

I was ready to keep my mouth shut until the park ranger said that if no one came forward to take responsibility for the theft, our whole group would have to go home. Everyone in our group knew who took the stuff, so I didn’t have much choice but to admit what I’d done.

The park ranger took us to apologize to the victims of the theft, and we did our best to smooth things over. Those people were understandably pissed off, but they said they were not going to press charges.

We were free and clear… until the park ranger said he was going to press charges on behalf of the state. He took us back to the station and told us we were arrested and would have to go to court.

I’m pretty sure he never read our Miranda rights, and he didn’t take mugshots, but we were in the system. He took us back to the campsite and said we’d have to leave immediately. Luckily, a pledge brother had to drive back to campus for his job, so we were able to jump in for the ride.

I got punished for it at a “Pledge Advisory Board,” but then things returned to normal, and I forgot about the impending court case until I checked my mail at the dorm one day and opened a summons to appear in court a few days before Christmas.

I was the dangerous combination of arrogant and ignorant, and figured I’d just have to go to court, and it would all go away. I didn’t tell my dad, and I didn’t ask for a public defender until days before. They told me it was too late, and I’d have to defend myself.

I used to watch the old movie Inherit the Wind with my dad, so I figured I had a grasp of the legal system and could do the pro se thing in court.

When it came time for the court date, my co-defendant told me he was going to skip it and go home for Christmas. My pledge educator, Brad, also got a summons to appear, so I asked if he could drive me. He wasn’t happy.

On the day of the case, we got there with minutes to spare, and I sprinted into the courtroom for my case. Flustered and sweaty, I took a seat in the back.

The case before mine was a local teenager who was arrested for the second time for dealing drugs. Judge David Young was conversational and kind with the teen and gave him 50 hours of probation. The judge said he knew this kid was trying to improve himself by getting involved at the local boxing gym.

This was going to be a cakewalk. I’d probably get 10 hours of community service, knock it out, and be done.

But the judge was immediately antagonistic with me for not having a lawyer, and for my co-defendant failing to show. He lectured me for being this kid from the big city coming out and ruining the peace and way of life in the local campground.

I was shaking at this point, and felt like I was going to faint as he read out the sentence. I was going to have to pay $145 in restitution to one victim and another $100 to the other.

Somehow, the food and drinks weren’t the only items they claimed we took. I was also on the hook for some fishing equipment. Now, I did take the food and booze, and that was a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t touch the fishing equipment, and I have no idea how that got included.

Also, I would have to spend the next year completing 500 hours of community service under a Probation Before Judgment (PBJ) ruling, and then my record would be expunged.

Scott didn’t show, and he would only get in trouble if the police picked him up for something else. That was horseshit, and it reminded me of a Billy Bragg lyric from his song, Rotting on Remand:

I said there is no justice

As they led me out of the door

And the Judge said, “This isn’t a court of justice, son

This is a court of law.”

That was a fun Christmas, as I had to explain to my dad that I needed a ride to see my probation officer and that I’d also need to borrow $245 to pay the victims. The cherry on top was telling him I’d earned a 1.0 GPA after that bad news.

He was angry, and I was miserable. My dad said I should look into joining the U.S. Army, since I wasn’t cut out for college.

It was a tense winter break, and all I had to look forward to was Hell Week before the next semester started with me on academic probation. I did get a letter from one of the guys I’d stolen from, and that made me feel a little better.

After my visit to the Prince George’s County Probation Officer, I was assigned to work at the University of Maryland Physical Plant on Saturdays and Sundays from 7:00 AM to 3:30 PM, as well as working spring break, summer, etc., to complete my 500 hours before the end of 1989.

This was in addition to working at the campus gym during school, bussing tables at a sorority, and taking a full course load.

It sucked a lot. I was spending each weekend with a bunch of guys who thought it was hilarious that they were getting paid to sleep in their truck while I did all of the work.

It sucked so much that I wrote a letter to the Governor of Maryland, William Donald Schaefer, begging for leniency. He responded that he thought the judge made a fair decision.

I finished my community service hours during winter break at the end of 1989 with a week of “volunteering” at a local nursing home. That was a lot easier than being a garbage man, but pretty sad, too.

I’d also gotten my grades up enough that I didn’t have to join the army, which I really felt good about when the Gulf War broke out in 1990.

Scott didn’t show up for Hell Week and wasn’t arrested in Maryland, so he wasn’t punished at all. And I didn’t even get any of the steak, ham, beer, or wine coolers that night.

I tell this story to people, and they never believe that I got 500 hours for this crime. But you know now, because you’ve seen the documents.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

My Most Compromising Gen X Photo

April 8, 2026 by Shawn Collins

I don’t think I had a camera in college. If I did, it was rarely used, because I didn’t have the money to get film processed. So, most of the pictures I have from those five years are the fraternity and sorority event photos.

I have a whole photo album of these types of pictures, but just a handful of non-event snapshots from 1988-93.

Gen Xers like to reminisce about not having cameras around all the time when we were growing up, so we wouldn’t have embarrassing images or even ones that could be a liability in our personal lives.

And yes, it’s a good thing those pictures don’t exist, because we were getting naked a lot in college. I can remember at least half a dozen times when I was in public without clothes on during my college days.

While I was pledging, we were nude a few times, including when we took a bonding photo of my pledge class on and around the University of Maryland Testudo statue (our Terrapin mascot) in front of McKeldin Library. While we posed, some brothers disappeared with our clothes, so we had to make our way across campus completely naked – 30 or so naked guys sprinting in the cold.

And another time, we did a “Love Run” at the Sigma Kappa (?K) sorority. Again, my pledge class ran around naked, but this time in a house full of sorority girls. Brothers stole our clothes as we made our way through the sorority, and we had to run home naked.

As a brother, I ended up getting lavaliered twice and pinned once to girlfriends, and each time I’d be grabbed off the street by pledges and tied naked to the anchor in front of the Delta Gamma (??) sorority. Then the girlfriend would have to come and untie me.

There are no photos of any of these events, as far as I know, but another time, when I was in my birthday suit, I was captured on film, and I didn’t find out until months later.

I was elected President of Pi Kappa Alpha (?KA) at the University of Maryland for the fall 1992 semester. We had a tradition where pledges would kidnap the new president, get them very drunk, and deliver them back to their room many hours later.

After lots and lots of drinks, I guess I passed out along the way. That’s when the pledges “smurfed” me. I think this must have gotten the name in the past because passed-out guys were painted blue. But when I was in college, “smurfing” meant someone was passed out and had stuff written all over them in marker.

Anyhow, I guess I needed to pee after getting back to the fraternity house, so I wandered into the bathroom and dropped my boxers, since I couldn’t stand up straight. Someone snapped a picture and gave it to me months later, when they developed their film. I don’t even remember who took the photo.

Late that night/morning, naked, covered in marker, and having a couple of scraped knees, my phone rang. Some townies had parked in our house parking lot, and we had a tow company that would come by and give a heads up that they were towing cars parked illegally.

I went out to see the tow truck driver, still oblivious to the ink on my body and face, and the driver laughed and asked what the hell I was up to. I looked in his sideview mirror, and my head pounded as I squinted at my messed-up reflection.

It took many showers to get all of the marker off my skin. I think I skipped class the next day, due to my jacked-up appearance and torturous hangover. But I got a cool picture out of it.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

I Actually Expected to Get a Job from Fraternity Connections

March 19, 2026 by Shawn Collins

My college career kicked off in the fall of 1988, the day my dad dropped me off at Cumberland Hall-affectionately known as “Scumberland”-at the University of Maryland.

From the start, I had one clear goal: join the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity. The parties and the lifestyle were intoxicating, and I knew I wanted in. Beyond the fun, the recruitment literature promised a lot more: a built-in community and support system, lifelong friendships, philanthropy, leadership opportunities, and a powerful alumni network for my future career.

I took those promises to heart. Over the next five years, I stayed deeply involved and stepped into various leadership roles, convinced that this level of activity would be my “magic ticket” to success. By my final semester, I was already leaning on those connections, firing off letters to alumni in hopes of turning that fraternity network into a professional reality.

First, I reached out to well-known alumni… the Prominent Pikes. Later, I compiled a list of all alumni of my chapter in the Washington, DC area and sent them a mailing.

I received 100% rejections, but those from my brothers on Capitol Hill hurt the most, because that’s really where I wanted to be. I still have those rejections in a binder from back in 1993. Here are some of my favorites.

Rejection letter from Senator Strom Thurmond

Rejection letter from Senator Thad Cochran

Rejection letter from Representative Herbert Bateman

Rejection letter from Representative Tom Bevill

Rejection letter from Representative Jon Kyl

Rejection letter from Representative Alan Mollohan

After graduating and not getting the job offers I was sure were inevitable, I moved back in with my dad and looked for local jobs.

Rather than an entry-level position with a power player in Washington, I got a position working the front desk of the Comfort Inn and Suites in Laurel, MD, for $5.50/hour. After a few months, I moved on to an assistant manager role at the Blockbuster Video in town. That job paid $7.00/hour.

I was on my way, but the way was no clearer than it was back in 1988. Just another Gen Xer who was underemployed with student loans, car payments, car insurance, and credit card debt.

But at least I managed to move out of my dad’s house in the spring of 1994 and move in with some friends.

I bought a twelve-pack of Private Stock malt liquor 40s to my new home to celebrate with the new roommates. In spring 1995, I headed to New York City with the hopes of getting a job as a writer. I sold one article to a free paper, the New York Press, for $100.

It wouldn’t be until early 1996 that I finally found a job with benefits. But I did have a lot of fun in college.

Originally published at https://shawncollins512.substack.com.

I Graduated from College 30 Years Ago Today

May 20, 2023 by Shawn Collins

I dreaded graduating college. After a rough start where I got a 1.0 GPA and landed on academic probation, I straightened things out. It took five years and one summer session (a Spanish class in a room with no A/C in the hot Maryland summer), but I finished what I started on May 20, 1993.

The graduation ceremonies were pretty uneventful. I was just waiting for it to be over and get on with things. I had to look back to see that Dr. Frank M. Snowden, Jr., Distinguished Professor emeritus of classics at Howard University, was the commencement speaker.

My mind was focused more on what the hell I was going to do. I neglected to get an internship and didn’t really have any marketable skills, even though I thought my activities and offices in school merited a two-page resume.

I left campus with no job and no idea what I was going to do with my Communications degree.

It all really hit me when I gave from graduating senior speech at my Pi Kappa Alpha Graduation Party. I was overwhelmed by the future as I double-fisted cheap champagne and babbled some words about all of the memories at the frat.

When I packed my things, I moved home with my dad for a while. I was sending out resumes like crazy to all sorts of jobs and hundreds of fraternity alumni in the area. I got rejected from all of them, but I did get some cool rejection letters from U.S. Senators and congressmen who were in my fraternity.

As I kept sending out applications and resumes, I pounded the pavement in my hometown, and most stores didn’t want me because I was overqualified. I finally ended up at the front desk of the Comfort Suites in Laurel, MD for $5.50/hour. It was crappy shift work, but it was something. After a few months, I became an Assistant Manager at the local Blockbuster for $7.00/hour.

The low point was when an old high school friend stopped in and said they thought I went to college.

Later in 1993, I got an administrative job at the University of Maryland for less than $9.00/hour with no benefits. I stayed there until moving up to New York City and getting a start in magazine publishing at a few stops. Finally, I had some meager benefits and could start chipping away at credit card debt, student loans, car payments, etc.

All along, I was optimistic that I was going to find my place. I’d hoped I could work as a writer, but my total take was $100 for one article at the defunct New York Press.

I was 27 and still didn’t have any direction. And then, one day, I was looking at the classifieds and saw a job with a start-up that needed a marketing person for their new affiliate program. I was curious about it but had never taken a marketing class. My entire knowledge was that I’d joined the Amazon affiliate program earlier in 1997 to try and make some extra money.

I dazzled the guy hiring for the position by dropping some buzzwords I’d remembered from Amazon, and I got the job. At 27, I got the first job that I enjoyed, and I found the industry I’d work in for decades.

While in the industry, I wrote lots of columns and books for money, so I got to be a writer after all.

So, if you’re a recent graduate or still looking for the right spot way later in life, don’t freak out. The path to success, contentment, and happiness isn’t straight and may not make sense, but you can get there.

I got some of my favorite advice when former New York Yankees pitcher, author, and entrepreneur, Jim Bouton, gave the keynote speech at Affiliate Summit in 2006.

“I stumbled on the secret of success, and that is persistence… you don’t have to be educated, you don’t have to be talented, you don’t have to be rich, you don’t have to be lucky. It’s available for anyone.

I’m convinced most people don’t fail, they simply stop trying. If persistence is the key to success, how does one be persistent?

I believe, from my experience, the answer to that you must love the process. You must love what you’re doing. Not the success, not the reward, not the bonus, the trophy. None of that stuff.

Just the process. If you love what you do, you have a chance to be successful at it. I think everyone needs to do what they love, or find a way to love what you’re doing.

If you focus on the process, you achieve the goals more often.”

I was really scared in 1993 and for many years after. But just like with my rough start in college, I eventually came out on the other side after I found love for the process of my work.

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