University of Victoria

"Bloody rabbits!"

The Queen threw down another handful of mangled geraniums.

"Pests are to be expected, my darling.  This isn't Osborne House.  The Dominion is still a place of wild animals, especially the island."

"Oh Albert, you have a steady voice of reason for such a busybody.  What if I told you the gazebo is sinking into the reflecting pool due to gopher tunnels?"

Albert whipped his head around and threw off his coat.

"What?  It's sinking?  I even switched from stone balustrades to wooden!  Find those gophers!"

The Queen touched Albert's shoulder.

"Calm down!  I'm only teasing."

Albert smirked.  He shook his balding head at his Queen.

Victoria smiled back.

She brushed the soil from Albert's coat.

"But as for the butchered gardens...we really do need to get a handle on these rabbits."

******

"Herr von Humboldt?"

"Ja."

"Sir, you have a telegram."

"And you have my permission to read it to me."

Alexander von Humboldt, biologist, sailor, writer, sat in the cabin in his docked ship.  He was hunched over his desk, carefully sorting feathers.  The unusually calm North Pacific waters allowed for a floating laboratory.  He didn't look up as the messenger boy began:

"DR VON HUMBOLDT

HRH QUEEN VICTORIA REQUESTS ZOOLOGICAL ASSISTANCE

VICTORIA GARDENS OVERRUN WITH RABBITS, OTHER PESTS

TRAPPING NOT EFFECTIVE

GRAND OPENING SATURDAY

PLEASE RESPOND AT - "

Von Humboldt held up his hand.

"Stop now.  Wait.  Victoria Gardens?  The Queen - and the prince, too, I suppose - is here...on Vancouver Island?"

Von Humboldt motioned for the boy to give him the telegram.  He lowered his spectacles and re-read it, softly mouthing the words.  The boy readied some paper and a pencil.

"I am ready to take your reply, sir."

"No need, mein kinder.  I shall set sail to deliver my advice personally."

******

Von Humboldt's clipper arrived at the inner harbour of the town of Victoria.  His crew tied the ship down under the sunny breezes.  Markets and inns hoisted colorful banners celebrating the upcoming event.  Carriages lined up for disembarking passengers.  Von Humboldt walked up onto Victoria Street.

"More Victorias?  I am already confused."

He summoned a carriage for the 30 minute ride to Victoria Gardens.  He admired his gift to the Queen, a stuffed yellow finch arranged on a tree branch.

When he arrived, Albert was speeding every direction, giving every direction.

"Dr. Von Humboldt!  What brings you here?"

"Your Highness!  It is my pleasure.  I came to assist with the Queen's gardens, as she requested."

"Yes, she did request it.  Several days ago.  But you did not reply, so we had no choice but to seek help from your peers."

"...My peers?"

The Queen rode up on a white horse.  In her red summer gown, she was a sight even without the reflective shine of the dewy air.  The horseman guided the animal toward Albert, who reached up to the Queen.

"Let me help you down, my darling."

"Thank you, Albert.  Dr. Von Humboldt!  I did not know you were coming, what a surprise!"

Von Humboldt bowed.

"Your highness.  I felt that it was too much of a coincidence for us to be so far from home, yet so close, that my assistance beyond telegram was in order."
"How kind of you to make the journey.  I knew you were embedded in your work and did not want to pester you."

"Not at all.  Speaking of my work, I brought you this.  This finch is one specimen we caught off one of the many bays to the south.  Now to the problem at hand, I believe I have the solution to your rabbit problem."

The horseman spoke up.

"That problem is solved, Alexander."

The horseman tied up the reins.  He removed his hat to reveal a tuft of blonde hair.

"Charles?" gasped Von Humboldt.

The Queen said, "When we found out Dr. Darwin was in town for the Grand Opening, we just had to seek him out.  It's not very often you can consult an expert on natural selection for a garden pest problem."

"I'd like to know how this expert handled it." said Von Humboldt.

"Marmots.  The Island Marmot is one of the more fierce larger rodents.  Very territorial.  Will not hesitate to fight in defence.  We introduced a few crates of them from the north of the island to the gardens.  I challenge you to find a rabbit here this fine afternoon."
"Then the problem becomes a marmot overpopulation!"

"That remains to be seen, but for this weekend, Victoria Gardens take top precedence."

The Queen said, "We certainly appreciate your help, Dr. Darwin.  Now, Dr. Von Humboldt, thank you for the finch.  Isn't that an odd coincidence?"

"Hmm?"

"Dr. Darwin brought us some finches as well!"

She pointed over to the gazebo.  An ornate bird cage held five brightly colored songbirds.

"He kept them alive all the way from...what was the name of those islands again?"

"The Galapagos, Your Highness."  Darwin turned to Von Humboldt.  "1000 kilometers from the mainland."

Von Humboldt sneered.  "Yes, I am aware of the Galapagos.  I have sailed near them in the past."

"But not actually to them."

 "I'm sorry, I've been too busy having universities named after me."

"Gentlemen!  This is most unbecoming of men of your scientific stature.  It is a time of celebration and conviviality, remember that.  Dr. Von Humboldt, Victoria is a small town, but the wildlife around would captivate you.  Perhaps you should take a stroll."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness."

"Yes, thank you, Your Highness."

Darwin and Von Humboldt bowed as the Queen went to find Albert.

Darwin turned to Von Humboldt.

"So what was your solution to the rabbits, anyway?"

"Only the best hunting dogs in all of Deutschland.  Now I plan to use them to clean up your marmot disaster."

"I was called upon to eliminate the rabbits.  And I did.  Any issues afterward can be solved by nature.  The question is will the reputation of the Queen's second favorite German survive a misstep like today's?"

"Oh?  It is a question now of survival?"

"Of the fittest."

Neither the marmots nor the hunting dogs worked in the long run.

University of British Columbia

13 Feb 2010.  UBC is the first international entry into College Cups.  Though it's more of a tip-toe, as Vancouver can't be more than 20 clicks from the border.  UBC's city centre campus is located at Robson Square, which was home to constant street performances celebrating the Winter Olympics.  For two weeks, the student bookstore put in double duty as the downtown box office.  Where else can you purchase curling tickets and a shaving mug in an atmosphere like this?

Let me non-story this one here.  It was originally to be Part Two of Two.  Part One being Seton Hall where 'Ghostbusters' actor, winery owner, and Canadian Dan Aykroyd invites his Norwegian nephew Rag to accompany him to the Vancouver Winter Olympics for a promotional blitz.  In Part Two, they attend a curling match and somehow Dan ends up on the ice.  Perhaps he is feeling the 'pebble' of the water globules or just watching the curling stones.  Or he got into a fight and was knocked down, hitting his head on the ice.  How he got down on the ice is not the issue!  But a curling stone is approaching his head.  Though it is relatively slow moving, it is still heavy enough to carry a breaknose force.  Before anyone can move Dan out of the line of fire, a second curling stone speeds out from the sidelines and knocks it off the track.  The second stone sits in a stationary spin inches in front of Dan's face.  Rag comes over to see if his uncle is okay.  He tries to help him up but Dan stops him.
"Wait!"
His eyes are still on Rag's stone as its spin ends.  The paint job is more at home in a tattoo parlor or a biker bar than a curling rink.  There is an ice-blue skull emerging from striking blue and blood red flames.  Two curling brooms are crossed behind it.  The skull gives Dan Aykroyd the idea to bottle his new vodka in a skull-shaped container, which is an actual product in liquor stores today.

Anyway, that was the main idea but it just never lent well to the details.  Knowing the end beforehand made it seem kind of forced as well.  But I was so emotionally attached to the origin story of Dan Aykroyd's Crystal Head vodka that I couldn't let it go!

Finally after a couple months, I decide to cut losses and move on.  Sorry UBC.  The first Canadian entry - the first international entry even - deserved much more than this shoddy Cliffs notes version.  There's got to be more inspiration laying across the Strait of Georgia on that big island over there.

Rider University

13 Nov 2009. Does that horse's eye look right to you? It's kind of rolling back in its head. Is this out of pleasure, fear, pain, sarcasm, hallucinogens - what is it?? I'll stay on my high horse and won't accept that it's just bad art.


THE PRESIDENT REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE AT CITY HALL LAWRENCEVILLE NEW JERSEY SATURDAY NINE A.M. ~ STOP ~ TO BE FOLLOWED BY A PUBLIC APPEARANCE ~ STOP ~ R.S.V.P. AT EARLIEST CONVENIENCE ~ STOP ~ SINCERELY MR. AND MRS. WOODROW WILSON

"Mr. Riis, take a look at this telegram. What do you suppose that minister's boy means by this?" Theodore Roosevelt passed the paper over to Jacob Riis, his mousy journalist friend.
"It means you'll be taking a trip to the haberdasher before long. You're not one to resist a public appearance, TR!"
Roosevelt laughed. "Indeed I am not. But does he intend to draw me into a public debate? That would be quite uncharacteristic of the ol' Virginia gentleman. Just in case, I will need to dress for both formality and aggression. The blackest of black top hats and tailcoat. Oh, I will be ready for you, Wilson!"

******

Wilson checked his pocketwatch in between sentences. Roosevelt had replied with an affirmative response to the invitation but had not yet shown up. He was nowhere to be found for the pre-announcement briefing, and Wilson could not delay speaking to the impatient press much longer. He had no choice but to begin and hope against hope.
So there he stood, on the stage decorated with maroon and white bunting, sweating it out and talking in circles. It began well enough. Wilson dove into his signature 'Three Points' program governing foreign policy. He stretched his words, fearing that he would repeat himself, outlining his views on free trade and open diplomacy.
When the time came to introduce Roosevelt and the issue at hand, he was still on his own. Wilson adjusted his glasses, laughed nervously, and pretended to shuffle his notes. Improvisation was not his strength.
He glanced back to Edith, who held up three fingers on one hand. She then firmly shot up her little finger, then her thumb, then all five fingers on her other hand. Wilson blinked.
Time to get specific.
"But to aid in achieving these Three Points, there are certain measures we can take as a nation to assure their coming into being.
So, fourthly, the American government will require that adequate guarantees are given and taken that national armaments will be reduced to the lowest points consistent with domestic safety."
Wilson's mind shot back to his drafts of the Three Points. There were too many details to include in that broad agenda. But now that he had time and an audience, they came surging back to his brainfront.
As he continued, the original number of issues had now tripled.
"Ninth, the frontiers of Italy ought to be readjusted clearly along recognizable lines of nationality."
His shoulders fell back, his vest seemed tighter around his chest, and his lively hand gestures complemented his now expanded Fourteen Points.
"Fourteenth, a general association of nations must be assembled with the purpose of guaranteeing political independence and territorial integrity!"
With this last declaration, Wilson pumped his fist in the air as his voice crescendoed skyward. The crowd ate it up and cheered wildly. At this point they weren't paying attention to the words but to the man. Wilson was not one to let emotions get control of him, and they were massively enjoying it almost as much as he was.
He would not go any further. A man sitting head and shoulders above the rest bobbed his way toward the stage. Theodore Roosevelt, in dusty formalwear, jumped from his horse and onto the stage.
"Fifteenth, my rump is numb!"
The crowd laughed. A mob of photographers, including Jacob Riis, stormed the stage to get a shot of Wilson and Roosevelt together. Both men were beaming. They exchanged hearty two-handed handshakes and quick words. Roosevelt sat next to Edith. Wilson took back the podium.
"I am honored to share the stage with President Roosevelt. Here is a man who never breaks his word, even when a malfunctioning motorcar forces him to commandeer a farmer's horse and ride the remaining miles!" Wilson pauses and allows the crowd to calm down.
"And that is why we are here today. Lawrenceville State College has been gracious to stage this event for us today. But after we are finished here, it will no longer be referred to by that name. In honor of our esteemed guest, President Roosevelt, the Dakota Bronc, The Colonel, The Rough Rider..."
Applause.
"...the school will be appointing him to the Board of Trustees..."
Roosevelt looked shocked.
"...under its first year with a new name. May I present...Rough Rider College!"
Two huge white curtains were pulled apart to reveal a maroon and white painting of the new school seal. Roosevelt turned to admire the giant banner. He stood up and ran his hands across the canvas. When he turned back to the crowd, his eyes were shining. Wilson gave the 'by-all-means' arm sweep. Roosevelt stepped to the microphone.
"After all the unkind things I have said about President Wilson, I truly don't deserve this. But it is this brand of generosity that makes him a great leader of our great country, no matter what this upcoming November has in store. With this new responsibility, I vow to make this school a place of vigorous learning in the spirit of our Founding Fathers. It will be a bully good university!"
Roosevelt doffed his top hat. The brass band drowned out the cheers with Hail to the Chief. The crowd dispersed. The executive and former executive made their way offstage.
"I cannot believe you turned three points into fourteen!"
"I had no choice, did I? You need to rid yourself of that bucket of bolts Ford, and upgrade to a Pierce-Arrow. Rides like no other."
"A new motorcoach is not in the cards right now."
"Oh, no?"
"The Amazon calls, Mr. Wilson!"

Drake University

24 Jun 2009. The closest College Cups has had to a chase scene was in Des Moines, Iowa. I left Iowa, Iowa, at 4:00 PM. The Drake bookstore was set to close at 5:30 PM. Could I make 119 miles in 90 minutes?? I mentally calculated that my average speed would have to be in the 75 mph range. If I went for it and made it, I could get the cup and log some after-dinner miles before setting up camp for the night. But if I missed it, I would have to stay in Monktown and make my purchase first thing in the morning. And that would put me way behind schedule in my cross country trip.
I went for it of course.
The bookstore was relatively easy to find from the interstate. I parked at 5:31 PM, and luckily the doors were still open to sweaty, jittery, numb-butted customers like me! Not only that, the cashiers recommended a great local barbecue dive. Jethro's and Lake Anita State Park: A+, would patronize again.


Sir Francis Drake stroked his chin. He was lost in the American continent.
"Will you stop fondling your goatee and ask for directions?" asked Drake's talking bulldog, Jethro.
"Never!! Not for all the naked lady scrimshaw in Connecticut will I accept help from a Frenchman or a savage!"
This was not the first time Drake regretted having Jethro take English lessons from a parrot. Yet he was still the most intelligent companion out of the whole crew.
Their tall ship, The Golden Hind, was dangerously out of place up the muddy Des Moines river. And it had been spotted by the natives. The natives knew it was only a matter of time before a ship of that size was permanently moored. It just came quicker than they thought.
Minutes later, The Golden Hind came to a sludgy halt. When Drake and Jethro disembarked to survey the damage, they were doomed.
"Look at the condition of the hull, Jethro. What a damnable catastrophe!"
"You're the damnable catastrophe. How many miles off course did you put us?"
"You are not being man's best friend right now."
Drake reached back to deliver a slap to Jethro's golden hindquarters. A large tailless squirrel dropped into his open palm.
"Ye Gads! A flying prairie rat!" It scampered down his shirtsleeve and disappeared into his vest. Dignity suddenly dropped low on Drake's list of priorities.
"Oof! Ahh! Gah! Jethro, help!"
Jethro was busy with small mammals of his own. He was barking and thrashing, trying to ward off the strange new species.
The enemy artillery emerged from the pines. Drake addressed them. "By the power of the crown, I order you to stand down - ahh - that we may - erg - engage in a humane discourse!"
Jethro flipped a couple rats aside. "Drake, you and your weak nose. They ain't humane cuz they ain't human!"
The crew of The Golden Hind finally finished their poker game and came deckside. They had a better view of what Jethro meant. Instead of charging Sioux, they saw the inexplicable: bison-mounted prairie dog catapults operated by trained coyotes in feathered headdresses.
A new round of prairie dogs were flung close to the ship. They climbed up the sides and populated the crew's faces. The animals not busy with facial mauling were gnawing through lines and masts.
The coyotes dismounted from the bison and identified Drake as the party's leader. Sadly, they made quick work of the captain.
Hopelessly outnumbered, Jethro ran.
He subsisted for two weeks on river water, grass, and prairie fowl eggs. He made it to Chicago where a settler recognized the royal seal on the lapels of his sailor suit. Jethro recounted the story during his convalescence, but as veterinary medicine was primitive back then, he had little chance of long-term survival. A few days later he succumbed to doggy dysentery.
Drake and his crew became heroes in England.
Much later, when a town sprang up around the Des Moines river, the founders paid tribute to them by christening their new school Bulldog University. Their sports teams were nicknamed the Drakes.
Days later the names were reversed.

Jethro's golden hindquarters

"Bow-wow to me!"

Drake is home to the annual Beautiful Bulldog competition.

University of North Carolina, Wilmington

15 Nov 2004. "The Dub" lies on a flat, sandy, pine-stippled expanse on the east side of the port town of Wilmington. Their seahawk logo needs work, they need cash, and they belong to an indifferent athletic conference (the CAA's feeling may be fueled by Dub lacking that big money sport, American football). But a school cannot buy the priceless beach location - and the beach bodies - that make up the campus here. I chose my first rocks glass of the CCP, which later broke in transit. It was replaced on a subsequent trip back to North Carolina with the first coffee mug. Good thing though, that rocks glass was seriously unattractive. The moulding was fine but on it was etched an outline of 'UNCW' in fugly block letters that did not resemble any typeface the school has ever used. No photo survives to this day.