Just a random memory from going to a (gasp!) state school:
In college, my roommate and I hosted a Halloween WOP party. (If you don't know what WOP is, find a 21-year-old. They'll tell ya.) It was just a bunch of English Lit and Psychology nerds getting together to drink cheap vodka spiked kool-aid out of a Rubbermaid bin. (We were all class, all the way.)
Anyway, the party was a huge success. One of our guests came dressed as a member of the marching band. Actually, I think he WAS a member of the marching band (nerrrrd party), either way, his costume was FANTASTIC. He wore everything from the little white cap down to the spats on his shoes. The only problem was that he brought along his own trombone, which he did not hesitate to play--badly. Do you have any idea how LOUD a trombone is when blasted in a two-bedroom apartment? Take my word for it: it's unbearably loud--even at the rowdiest of Nerd Parties.
Well, someone must have elected to take it from him because two days later, I found it under my bed.
I have no recollection of ever giving it back to him. I wonder what happened to it.