I wonder if they still check id's so loosely on the web...

Having begun college at the age of 17, I was hopelessly under the legal drinking age and at 5’5 and 96 lbs, sincerely looked the part. Additionally, attending a Jesuit school definitely had its drawbacks in this department as well; alcohol was strictly forbidden anywhere on or around campus and minors in possession-risked expulsion. As a freshman, I was enrolled as a Psychology major and downtrodden with endless Statistics, Behavior and Ethics courses. I longed to break up the monotony but was doomed to study hours on end for fear of losing my full academic scholarship should my grades drop below a B+ average. Broke, over-studied and envious, I watched my fellow classmates party away their stresses on the weekends in local bars and at Frat parties and racked my brain to try and find a way that I could join in the fun.

Fortunately, I began college in 1996. This particular year was a large one for me as it was the year in which I discovered endless possibilities to be found surfing the World Wide Web. An entrepreneur and a natural born rule breaker, it wasn’t long before I stumbled on the “Brew Guys Home Brew Systems” website. Shiny new student visa in hand, I altered the photocopy of my driver’s license before faxing it in and was soon the proud owner of an All-Inclusive Deluxe 10 gallon Home Brew Beer System.

As I smuggled the large unmarked box off to my dorm room and up five flights of stairs, I smirked as I unsheathed my new treasure before my bewildered roommate. Irish to the core, she was even more thrilled by my toy than I was. Following the instructions (less the heavy emphasis on sanitizing the brewing equipment), I’d set my first batch of home brew to ferment by that evening. Any graduate of high school chemistry could easily follow the directions. In fact, the biggest challenge I faced was lugging four-gallon pots of molten boiled malt up and down five flights of stairs between the community dorm kitchen and our room without arousing our hall master’s suspicions. A bit of cleanup and a full can of room spray later, we covered the brewing tub with the same box it came in, stuck it in the closet and crossed our fingers. The next morning I sauntered off to Ethics class with a new found pride in my ingenuity.

I quickly snapped out of my bliss when I arrived at the class three minutes late and found the scrupulous Professor Nelson had already locked me out of the classroom with a note on the door that said, “Time to buy a new alarm clock, Nancy.” I was furious as I stared through the small rectangular window at the other students chuckling at me.

Though he eventually let me in the room, he took the liberty of popping off smart-aleck comments at me for the rest of the lesson. Caught off guard and quieted that day, I resolved to come to the next lesson prepared. And so it was, I took his reading guide and his notes and came prepared with my own comments for our next lesson—thus returning the favor and getting an amiable number of laughs in my favor from the class. A deeply egotistical man, my behavior did not go over well with him and the next few weeks were marked by full-blown war. Though his behavior was not exactly becoming of a professor, it was I who eventually had to tone it down for fear of the grade that might result. Luckily, he proved to soften a little and we managed to establish some sort of peace—though he still targeted all of his hardest questions at me.

Outside the classroom, the weeks that had passed marked the full-blown bubbly, smelly, glorious fermentation of my first batch of beer. Seven percent alcohol, chalky and room temperature, I subsequently bottled it and sold it for a hefty two dollars a bottle to thirsty minors throughout my dorm. The profit margin was so good and demand so high, I tripled my operation and pumped out 9 more batches before the end of quarter. Ordering all bottles and supplies online, the Internet was my new best friend.

As all good things must come to an end, my greed and haste were ultimately what did me in. As finals assignments were pouring in, I struggled to get all of my papers done by their ensuing deadlines as well as keep up with my brewing business. Typing and printing like a madwoman in the computer lab, I popped off my Ethics final paper and sprinted off to Mr. Nelson’s office to turn it in with only 15 minutes to spare. He looked almost disappointed that I turned it in on time. I didn’t even have time to proofread but felt my writing would woo him nonetheless. Several days passed and I just kept pumping out the ales and lagers, schoolwork taking a bit of a backburner position to my brewery.

Though the gurgling and malty sweet smells coming from our dorm room did arouse some suspicion, my risky operation pressed on without discovery. That is, until, the fateful day when Mr. Nelson called me in to his office with the biggest smirk on his face I have ever seen on a grown man. It seems in my hurry to print out and turn in my final paper, I had neglected to notice that my “Brew Guys Supply Re-Order Receipt” had printed right along behind it. Sure enough, I went right ahead and stapled the evidence to the back of my Ethics paper. Mr. Nelson was smitten and had only to say, “I’m thankful for you to inform me of your extracurricular activities, Nancy—this explains so much. Have a nice Spring Break!” And, that was that.

I spent the next several weeks fretting over whether or not he would turn me in to the Dean or the University Ethics Committee-- maybe even the campus police! Would I be expelled? Would I lose my scholarship? I destroyed all the brewing evidence in my dorm room, now amounting to hundreds of dollars in value and swore myself to a life of sobriety. Lo and behold he had some mercy and apparently never took any action beyond our little conversation. It seems that was satisfaction enough for him and he even gave me an A in the course.

I never brewed beer again.