I was hazed ... FINALLY!

I went through rush twice at Baylor and never got a bid from a fraternity. I got over it a long, long time ago ... but Saturday really helped put to rest any lingering issues I may have had with the rejection.

Months ago, I told my groomsmen and ushers to save the date this weekend for a possible overnight stay somewhere -- a dude ranch? fishing trip? But as the BIG DAY approached and time and money became less and less available, I readjusted my expectations -- and I handed it over to Lincoln and Hilburn to figure out.

What was I thinking?

Well, my groomsdudes and ushers picked me up at 3:00 pm at the new house. I wasn't sure what the plans were. I was blissfully going along for the ride and enjoying the fact that this was one thing that I did not have to plan or prepare for.

The guys arrived and I was told to dress warm. OK, I can do that. Next, I was told to put on Todd's iPod to drown out their conversations. OK, I can do that. Next, I was blindfolded. I can handle that. Then came a shirt that was slipped over my head as the guys chuckled. Knowing how loving and wholesome these guys are, I knew in my heart it didn't say anything offensive like "Hillary 2008" or "Gig 'Em Aggies!" on it.

Off we went as Mike and Todd walked poor lil' blind me to the car. I did my best to gauge where we were based on the turns we took, but I don't know the area well enough yet so I gave up by the time we were out of the neighborhood.

After what seemed like half an hour or more, we came to our mystery destination. Being shut off from the world around me and not interacting with others -- despite sensing their presence and hearing muffled conversations -- I finally understood what introverts feel like. Bless their hearts.

With my eyes closed, my other senses were heightened. Or at least, they were working really hard to give me some clues to my whereabouts. I could tell there was a lot of traffic, pedestrians walking by (laughing at me), and some sort of sweet smell in the air. Were we at a festival? The Car Show? Traders' Village? I was clueless.

We took another short walk seemingly right into traffic. Eventually we got to our final stop -- or at least MY final stop. The guys rallied around and cuffed me to a pole first, and then they did the unthinkable -- the sprayed something on my hair. What concerned me was that the aerosol substance smelled exactly like real spray paint -- like something you would spray on wood to permanently change its color. ("Seriously guys?" I thought. "Actually spray paint in my hair one week before the wedding? For the love!") But I laughed it off not wanting to be Debbie Downer in midst of all the fun.

Then the blindfold came off and I found my self in the middle of Galleria traffic at the intersection of Westheimer and Post Oak -- tied to a lamp post in the median with hot pink hair and shirt that said, "Need Money! Getting Married!"

Their victim in place, the guys took off for Starbucks to hang out and watch me panhandle. My first dollar came from a guy who slowed down enough to drop his contribution in my collection bucket and wish me "congratulations" as he proceeded with his left turn.

After that, the funds dried up. I even tried to hit up pedestrians as they crossed the street. It's the Galleria, so only about half of them spoke English. One young, nicely dressed couple with shopping bags and Starbucks coffee was pleasant and encouraging -- but they didn't cough up jack. "Come on! You're shopping in the Galleria with $4 coffee!" I pointed out. "You can spare something!" They weren't feeling very charitable.

Who knows how many cars passed by me during my stint as a panhandler. Remarkably, I would say only about 25% of the people stopped at the red light ever made eye-contact with me. There were a few who appeared to giggle at my predicament -- a METRO bus driver, a pick-up full of landscape workers, and two early twenty-something girls in a F-150 and a sticker of a rifle on the driver's window. But for the most part, people treated me as though I was about to wash their windshields with my own spit.

The guys called to inform me that they would free me once I raised $5. With just $1 in hand and people acting as though the recession had already hit, I was looking forward to the tan I would be getting. Might as well get comfortable -- and really start working it!

At one point, I took out my wallet and considered dropping in my own cash to buy my freedom. But I rejected the temptation. I wanted to earn this the honest all-American way -- by acting a fool and freeloading off of strangers.

Being an extrovert, it did trouble me that I did not see one person I knew. Surely, if somebody I knew drove by and saw me, wouldn't they have honked? Wouldn't they have circled around and fought Saturday traffic in the Galleria just to come back by to say "hello" and give to the cause? I mean, that IS the polite thing to do in such a situation. Ask Emily Post.

"STEVEN MURRAY!"

I had been found! Somebody in this huge metropolitan city had recognized me and was getting my attention. I looked around in all directions and finally saw the arms waving out of a car window. In the afternoon glare I couldn't quite tell who it was. All I knew was they were a few cars back in the turn lane by me and were obviously VERY excited to see me. In just a few moments I would find out who it was.

It was Amanda.

Turns out, she and LB were running errands and LB said she wanted Starbucks. Off they went toward the Starbucks near the scene of the crime -- the corner of Post Oak and Westheimer. (LB was in on it with my guys the whole time.) The light turned green and here she came grinning from ear to ear as she saw her fiance shamelessly begging for money.

While she and LB hung out with the guys, my sugar daddy came along. A young dude who was stopped at the light right next to me dropped in $8. He wished me "congratulations" as well and said he totally understood having recently been married himself. If it weren't for the #$%&@ ties holding me to the pole, I would have shook his hand.

I called the guys to tell them I had earned my freedom -- I had surpassed the $5 goal. I told them I would raise more if Amanda came out and stood there with me. Since she had her hair done up that morning to test out hairstyles for the wedding, she would be sure to get looks. Who wouldn't check out a beautiful woman in a hoodie, ripped jeans and an up-do?

Amanda crossed traffic and came to join me. Turns out, she came to rescue me to with scissors in hand. A car in the turn lane honked and waved a dollar out her window. Amanda proudly went to fetch it. I told Amanda we should stand there together for awhile and see how much cash we could pull in as a couple, but she wouldn't go for it. She cut the ties that bound me and off we went to meet up with LB and the guys.

So, about 19 years after it could have happened, I was finally hazed by my brothers. And it was good times!