Greek (Palm South University)

Chopper.

Leg hang.

For a while, I lie back and enjoy the brief rest. I remember a time when a leg hang was so painful, I thought my inner thigh was on fire. But now, it’s a breather, a chance to let my body relax before I go for the next move.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Slowly, I grab for the pole and maneuver my shoulder into position — one that’s extremely bendy and difficult, even with being warm. I take my time, and when I feel confident, I swing my inside leg around and grab hold with my inside hand.

This part is always sketchy, inching my shoulder under the pole more and more, centimeter by centimeter, my hands reaching for each other to lock behind my shin and hold me in place. I breathe through it, eyes closed so I won’t get too dizzy.

And finally, my fingers touch.

A few more breaths and I’ve got my hands locked together, though my shoulders are screaming.

“You’ve got this, Lei!” someone shouts, and a few other girls cheer me on as I go for the last part to clench the move.

Squeeze everything tight.

Breathe.

Relax.

And when I feel ready, I unhook my outside leg and send it back behind me, straight and extended, toes pointed.

Bird of Paradise: unlocked.

The girls roar their approval, and for a moment, I’m smiling and internally freaking out that I actually fucking did it.

But the next, I slip, just an inch, just enough for all the joy to drain from my face, for my heart to race into my throat, and for me to realize I’m not secure.

Shit.

It’s not easy to come out of this move, and I don’t have enough time to think about how to do it properly, to save myself from slipping all the way down. I try to bring my outside leg back in to hook, but it’s too late.

I can’t squeeze hard enough.

I can’t re-grip the pole.

And in the next second, I’m free falling — desperate hands grasping for chrome that I never quite find.

Cheers turn to gasps, and I hit the floor with a nasty snap, rip, crack. There’s a brief shot of the most agonizing pain I’ve ever felt in my life.

And then everything goes dark.

THE SUN IS HIGH and blinding as I walk University Hill, taking in the crisp Colorado air with each breath. September at Palm South always meant pool parties and sweating every walk to class, but here? The days are pleasantly warm, the evenings cool, fall constantly whispering in your ear that it’s well on its way.

I’ve got my hands tucked into the pockets of my light jacket, one branded with the Alpha Sigma letters and given to me when I joined the national staff as a Field Executive. The summer in Boston was a crash-course of learning — not necessarily the fraternity rituals or standards, which I already knew well — but rather how I would take my knowledge and experience from the last four years and apply them in my new role.

A role they did everything they could to prepare me for, but I’m not stupid enough to think it’ll be so easy.

In their eyes, Field Executives are welcome with open arms, but if I know anything about fraternities, it’s that having someone from nationals visit is hardly ever a good thing — and I wouldn’t be anyone’s favorite guest of honor.

Every chapter I visit, every group of guys I seek to mentor will need me for some reason, whether they want to admit it or not.

And the group here in Boulder definitely falls under the not category.

There are a few brothers sprawled on the grass when I reach the A Sig house, a monstrous Neo-classical beast that puts every house at Palm South to shame. Aspen University is older than Palm South, more prestigious, and has four times the amount of students. They also have more money, and their “Greek Row” is spread out all over The Hill, giant mansions with letters proudly fixed to the front like Easter eggs you can’t help but hunt as you walk.

The brothers I pass by give me nods of hello, most of them friendly, most of them glad I’m there. The past two years of recruitment haven’t gone so well, and though I was able to help them get a better turnout this year, my work had only just begun.

Through Rush Week, I’d become close with a lot of the brothers — the president and recruitment chair, the philanthropic chair, who I was most excited to work with, and a number of brothers of various ages. The new pledges knew me as if I was the House Director, and I intended to earn everyone’s trust by the time I left — and to leave them in better shape than I found them.

Oddly enough, the current brothers aren’t the issue.