 "Photo: courtesy of David Lachtman")
 "Photo: courtesy of David Lachtman")
 "Photo: courtesy of David Lachtman")
Ed Franco was around to see the lights go out in DeSmet. So was Michael Stefani. That's when they knew their dorm was dead.
"There was no one around to set off the motion sensors and turn the light on. When you wake up and it's dark in the hall, that's when you know you're alone. That's when it hits."
It was the day after everyone left for Thanksgiving in Fall 2006. They knew their dorm would be deserted, they just didn't know how deserted.
"It's almost like that 'last-man-on Earth-after-the-apocalypse' complex. You kind of want to know what it's like," Franco says. "Now I know."
So the search began for the others. Franco on fourth floor soon found friend David Lachtman had also stayed behind. Stefani was on second floor, they knew each other as well. And Nick Lawhon was on first floor. The only one on first floor, he says.
"Jason Britt was the only R.A. who stayed in the building, on second floor," Lawhon says. "And he really didn't care about anything."
They met up with Chino Betita and Miles Miller from Roncalli. The four from DeSmet were from California. Betita hails from Vancouver, B.C., and Miller from Minnesota. None of them saw the value in spending the money to go home for only a few days, and so close to Christmas break. If you can tough it out until Christmas, Lawhon says, then why bother?
While the six of them may be in the minority of students who stay at school for the holidays, they are not alone. And Franco thinks their experience can be a valuable guide for what to do - and what not to do - to survive the break.
The first warning: There is absolutely nothing to do.
One by one, Stefani saw his friends leave for home. It sucked, he said. It was lonely. Walking through campus when no one else is around, he says, is a much different experience - and not necessarily a good one.
"One of my good friends from back home called me," Stefani, from Sacramento, says. "And he was like, 'Hey man! What are you doing tonight? Let's hang out!, And I had to tell him I wasn't coming home. That was a big let down."
Homesickness didn't set in for Franco or Lawhon the way it did for Stefani.
"I was actually excited to see what the dorm was like for myself," Lawhon says. "I was still really new to Gonzaga and wanted any new opportunities. I thought it would be pretty cool to have the dorm all to ourselves. I remember the first thing I did was go around and see who all had stayed."
Soon, however, a different feeling set in. It was boredom. Extreme boredom.
"There was really nothing to do at all," Lawhon adds. "It wasn't like we got the guys together and said, OK, let's do this, because there was no one else around to do it with."
For that reason, Xbox college basketball played a crucial role in holiday survival.
Franco recalls extensive stretches he spent in his bed, on his couch or on his computer.
Lawhon recalls that quirk about Franco: "Getting him out of bed was always a chore for the rest of us."
Franco says of his boredom: "You have to be prepared for long stretches of that, in between the times when I'd go hang out with the guys … and we'd drink heavily."
The second warning: Alcohol might be an answer, but not the right one.
A couple of the residents remaining behind thought they'd never make it through the week without being drunk. So they put in an alcohol order … an absurd order, they now admit. The so-called "infamous" order of freshman year: Two half-gallon bottles of rum, six 40 oz. bottles of malt liquor and two 30-packs of beer.
"I don't know what we were thinking. We didn't need that much at all," one recalls. It was consistent, from 5 p.m. on, that if you were to find them you'd find them drinking.
"It really sounds bad, like we're all drunks, but there was really nothing else to do," Lawhon says.
Admittedly, much of the time, aside from sleep, was spent either drunk or hungover.
"I don't remember it being an altogether egregious amount, but it was definitely enough," Franco says. "Really, there were no authority figures to stop you."
Franco recalls drinking in the dorms, with the door open and in the halls. He also remembers being as loud as he wanted while they did it, at any time of the night.
Stefani remembers his R.A. buying him a six pack of beer for winning a pickup basketball game.
To say regulation was laxed during Thanksgiving break, Franco says, is an understatement.
"Really, the best way to say it is that no one cared at all," he says.
The third warning: Be prepared for limited social interaction.
One of the first nights they were alone, the six forgotten sons of Thanksgiving went on a campuswide search to find any fellow underclassmen, particularly females, who were stuck on campus for Thanksgiving. They remember finding a Welch resident, who Lawhon says rejected their invitation.
In search of human interaction, Stefani says that he and Franco made the "freshman mistake" of walking to NorthTown Mall.
"We took the wrong way back," he says. "We went all through the Logan Neighborhood. It was a bad mistake."
Stefani recalls going on another search, on Thanksgiving, to invite people to Lawhon's house for dinner. They found another resident, who also rejected their invitation.
"Sometimes it felt like we were the only people in DeSmet, the only people on campus," Stefani says.
The fourth warning: Food will be scarce.
The COG keeps odd hours, to say the least, over Thanksgiving break, according to Lawhon. And nobody could remember them. So, what each member did was take a picture of the temporary hours of operation sign with their phone to have on record.
Franco recalls, however, that he did make several runs to Zips and to Safeway for food, namely frozen burritos and Safeway.
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