October 9, 2010. High noon. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the alumni association had once again decided to test the limits of human endurance and liver capacity with the annual Purdue Big Ten Pub Crawl. The previous yearâs antics were still fresh in memory, but this time, we were determined to outdo ourselves.
And where else could such a noble quest begin but at Dirty Delâs?
Dirty Delâs: The Launch Pad
Dirty Delâs was already buzzing when I arrived. The place looked like a reunion crossed with a pep rally. Alumni poured in wearing black and gold, some sporting vintage Purdue gear that looked like it had survived more tailgates than textbooks.
The first round was ordered before I even had a chance to sit down. Someone shouted, âBoiler Up!â and suddenly the bar echoed with chants. Ashley was there, Saydie was there, and half the crew from last yearâs crawl had returned, ready to wreak havoc on San Diego in the name of Purdue pride.
I remember thinking: Itâs only noon. Pace yourself. That thought lasted about three minutes.
Stop Two: The March of Questionable Decisions
Leaving Dirty Delâs, we stumbled into the sunshine like victorious gladiators. The crawl had officially begun. The alumni association had mapped out a route that zigzagged through Pacific Beach, ensuring maximum exposure to both beer and embarrassment.
At the second bar, someone ordered a round of shots âfor tradition.â Tradition, apparently, meant tequila at 12:30 p.m. I tried to protest, but peer pressure is a powerful force, especially when itâs wrapped in school spirit.
By the time we left, we were already singing the Purdue fight song at full volume, much to the confusion of locals who had no idea why a group of Midwesterners were marching down Garnet Avenue like a drunken marching band.
Stop Three: Karaoke Chaos
The third stop had karaoke, which was both a blessing and a curse. Ashley, still loyal to her Colts fandom, decided to serenade the crowd with âLivinâ on a Prayer.â Saydie followed up with âDonât Stop Believinâ.â I, against my better judgment, attempted âBohemian Rhapsody.â
Halfway through, the entire bar joined in, and suddenly it wasnât karaokeâit was a fullâblown concert. People were standing on chairs, waving drinks in the air, and belting out lyrics with the kind of passion usually reserved for national anthems.
The bartender looked equal parts amused and terrified.
Stop Four: The Great Nacho Incident
By midâafternoon, hunger struck. We ordered nachos the size of a small mountain. Somewhere between the second and third layer of cheese, a debate broke out over whether Purdue could beat Ohio State that season. Voices were raised, chips were spilled, and at one point, someone tried to use a jalapeño as a microphone.
The nachos didnât survive. Neither did my dignity.
Stop Five: The Dance Floor Debacle
The fifth bar had a dance floor, which was dangerous given our state of coordination. Within minutes, the alumni association had turned it into a makeshift pep rally. Someone started a conga line, which quickly devolved into chaos when half the group forgot how to conga.
I distinctly remember Ashley attempting a cartwheel, Saydie trying to moonwalk, and me inventing a dance move that can only be described as âconfused octopus.â
The DJ, sensing opportunity, played âEye of the Tiger,â and suddenly the dance floor was a battlefield of alumni pride.
Stop Six: Philosophical Debates and Pretzels
By early evening, the crawl had taken a more reflective turn. At the sixth bar, we found ourselves engaged in deep philosophical debatesâmostly about whether pretzels were superior to peanuts as bar snacks.
One alum argued passionately that pretzels represented the resilience of Purdue engineers, while another claimed peanuts symbolized the unpredictability of college life. I just wanted another beer.
Stop Seven: The Great Purdue Toast
As the sun set, we reached the seventh stop. Someone proposed a toast to Purdue, and suddenly glasses were raised, voices were loud, and the entire bar was treated to an impromptu speech about the glory of the Boilermakers.
It was heartfelt, it was ridiculous, and it ended with everyone chanting âBoiler Up!â until the bartender begged us to stop.
Stop Eight: The Final Frontier
The last stop was a blur. I remember laughter, I remember more shots than necessary, and I remember Ashley insisting we all sing the Purdue fight song one last time.
By midnight, the crawl had officially ended, but the shenanigans were far from over. Someone suggested lateânight tacos, someone else suggested more karaoke, and somehow we ended up debating whether Neil Armstrong would have approved of our pub crawl strategy.
Reflections on Shenanigans
Looking back, the 2010 Purdue Big Ten Pub Crawl was a masterpiece of chaos. From Dirty Delâs at noon to the final bar at midnight, it was a journey filled with laughter, questionable decisions, and enough school spirit to power a small city.
We sang, we danced, we debated pretzels, and we consumed more nachos than medically advisable. We turned Pacific Beach into a temporary Purdue campus, complete with chants, fight songs, and alumni pride.
And through it all, the alumni association stood by, smiling knowingly, because they had seen it all before.
The Morning After
Of course, no pub crawl is complete without the morning after. Waking up, I felt like I had been run over by a marching band. My phone was full of blurry photos, my wallet was full of taco receipts, and my dignity was somewhere back on the dance floor.
But as I sipped coffee and scrolled through the evidence, I couldnât help but smile. The crawl had been ridiculous, hilarious, and unforgettable.
Final Thoughts
The Purdue Big Ten Pub Crawl of 2010 wasnât just about drinkingâit was about community, tradition, and the joy of being part of something bigger than yourself. It was about alumni coming together, celebrating their roots, and proving that even years after graduation, we still know how to have a blast.
Dirty Delâs may have been the starting point, but the real destination was laughter, camaraderie, and memories that will live on long after the hangover fades.
Boiler Up.
