When I met "Rizzle," I was a fresh-faced first year at the University of Minnesota. Seeking a connection for purchasing alcohol, I wandered through my dormitory hallways looking to meet anyone with connections to a 21-year-old. James, or Rizzle as he has always been known to me, was introduced to me by a good friend and housemate in Centennial Hall. He is a simple man; a great man. Simply put, Rizzle can consume more alcohol in a night of drinking, without dying, than any man I've ever met.
Our first encounters were short and sweet. I'd give him the money, he'd bring me back the paint-thinner-esque 1.75s of vodka. Oh, how I miss the simplicity of those days. "What, man, you say it's Thursday? Tell Rizzle to get me some Karkov," and we'd drink it all, only to do it again the next two days.
After our first few meetings, Rizzle warmed up to me somewhat and started inviting me out to parties, over to his dorm to drink, and essentially to any alcohol-related function that he would be attending. It did not take me long to discover that, for Rizzle, alcohol is king. I admired that, and I still do.
Though the legend began assembling in those first few weeks and months, it was not until we had left the dorms and Rizzle had moved into a house with his good friends that it began to truly solidify for me. Hosting innumerable weekend keggers, tailgating events for Gopher football and Twins baseball, and always driving the action towards a different party when he wasn't hosting, Rizzle became a beacon of college drunkenness to which we all aspire.
With his tradmark phrase, "It's whatever," and his desire to be the best at what he does, Rizzle is more a part of many of our U of M experiences than are the classes, the dorms, or the events.
I remember one particularly heroic phone call I received from Rizzle.
"Jeff, what's going on tonight?"
"I don't know Rizzle, I'm actually not drinking tonight I'm back at home."
"I see. Do you know what anybody else is doing?"
"Not really man, sorry."
"Hmm, see, the thing is, I gotta find something, because at this point I'm dangerously close to not drinking on a Friday for the first time in 4 years."
(In awe) "Well, damn, Rizzle. I hope you can find some way to keep that intact."
"Yeah, man. Hopefully something'll be goin' down."
Another time, we were playing circle of death at my apartment on campus with a few assorted friends. Rizzle, characteristically, was drinking a mixed drink of approximately 75% vodka, 25% juice while the rest of the players at the table sported various cans and bottles of beer. True to his legend, Rizzle consumed every drink the game dealt him with gusto, polishing off several drinks in rapid succession. After a game that saw Rizzle drinking 2-3 times as many drinks as the next player had beers, Rizzle stood up and proclaimed he needed to visit a friend in the area having a party. An hour and a half, and who knows how many drinks later, he came back to my place where the party was still going on. He proceeded to grab the half-or-so full 1.75 of vodka and take a pull to get himself "back in the mix."
Needless to say, that night was nothing short of a bona fide shit show. I woke up at 5am, Rizzle shaking me awake with his left hand while holding his junk in his right. He was completely naked and shivering. My best friend Brandon had, in a drunken stupor, turned my thermostat down to 45 degrees, which he thought was hilarious.
"J-J-J-Jeff.... D-Do you h-have any c-clothes I c-can b-borrow."
I got up and fetched him some pants and a shirt, "Rizzle, what happened?"
There was no response as Rizzle threw on the clothes, grabbed a towel as a blanket and passed out once again on the floor. He was gone before I woke up, but I found his clothes in the corner of the living room in a sopping pile. I confronted him a few weeks later, knowing what had happened.
"Rizzle, I uh, I found your clothes and I washed them. They were all wet, uh, did you spill a drink on yourself or something?"
Rizzle, making direct eye contact and without a hint of shame or embarrassment responded simply, "Nope. Pissed m'self."
That is the kind of honesty that exemplifies Rizzle. He is a man that, as I said earlier, can drink as much liquor in a single night without dying as any man I've ever met. He doesn't throw up, he doesn't break things, and on occasion should he happen to make a drunken mistake, he owns up immediately and without shame. These stories, and so many like them (you probably have one or two of your own if you know him), tell a tale of a man more like a god. So raise a glass, a shot, a can, or a bottle to Rizzle--the greatest drinker of us all.
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