During my senior year, my ol' lady and I would sometimes relax by heading over to the Dixie Chicken. On one such night we were returning fairly late in the evening and in a somewhat altered state of conciousness. One of our other zip buddies was with us. About the time we got to the Academic Building, somehow the subject of streaking was mentioned. My ol'lady promptly sat down on a bench and began removing all of his clothes. The other two of us appropriately chickened out but offered to carry the clothes and "run interference" in case he met up with the KK or the guardhouse OD. He was wearing roper-style boots that night and as he departed towards the quad, they were the only articles of clothing remaining on his body. My friend and I nearly fell down laughing as we watched his rather white rear end move down the quad - we could not keep up. As we stumbled up the steps of the quad, we were met by a student coming from one of the civilian womens' dorms. As we passed, she looked at the clothes in our hands and the smiles on our faces and said, "You must know the guy in the boots."

Which is similar to the story later same year told by me:

It was raining cats and dogs on this day in Spring 1990. The B-Company freshman were gathered in the hallway, and Greg Saurette, who was short of funds for the canoe trip made us a deal. If each freshman pitched in a single dollar for his trip, his $15 dollar fee would be paid in full. And he dares us that if we do, he'll streak the quadrangle in the pouring rain. So we don't think he will do it so we call his bluff and Greg proceeds to streak out into the torrential downpour. And when I say downpour, I mean it was raining in sheets. There was lightening about, and the rain was fierce. But Greg braved it for his $15 fee. And, true to his word, he streaked all the way across the quad to the dorm clear on the opposite side, and then ran back. I wouldn't of gone out in that storm.