Authors: Unknown
I arrived at the University of Georgia as a seventeen-year-old freshman in September of i98o. The night before classes began, I pledged a fraternity, shotgunned a six-pack of Country Club malt liquor, and gulped down a pint of
Pepe Lopez tequila. Around two that morning, in the company of my new
brothers, I went carousing through the narrow streets of Athens, bound for an
all-night diner known as Blanche's Open House. Once there, I scarfed a platter of eggs and grits before excusing myself to vomit in the direction of the toilet. I missed. When I walked to the counter to tell someone what I had done,
a middle-aged woman with a tight henna bouffant threw me a rag and
screamed, "Don't give me that; I don't want to hear it. Clean up your own
shit!" This, I learned, was Blanche Guest.