Last week, I asked an older associate at my summer job what advice he would give to incoming college freshmen.

My colleague, a thirty something married man with a house, a dog and all the trappings of a responsible adult, answered without hesitation:  ‘Five years later, you stop caring about all your ugly hookups at two in the morning. So go nuts,’ he said. ‘Eventually, they all turn into great stories.’

Now, I don’t want you or your parents hovering nearby to get the wrong idea. I do not condone or encourage dumb, risqué behavior for the sake of a funny story. So you can tell Mom and Dad to stop worrying and to let you read in peace.

I’ll wait.

…

Are they gone?

Good. I wholeheartedly agree with my colleague. Well, maybe not the part about getting with as many uggos as possible, but the general sentiment: Don’t hold back from doing crazy things because you’re afraid you’ll regret it later. Chances are you won’t.

You see, no freshman year is complete without at least 20 ridiculous stories that involve terrible decision-making and their comically bizarre consequences. If you fall short of that mark, you’re just not trying hard enough. Or you’re an architecture major. Same difference.

Listen, you’re about to enter a world of freedom with hardly any consequences.  As long as you exercise the minimum amount of common sense necessary to avoid real danger, you’re golden.

Take it from me. After three years, six semesters and countless adventures at Syracuse University, my only regrets are the crazy things I haven’t done.

For instance, I’ve never gotten a tattoo, played strip poker with the pep band’s percussion section or frolicked through campus buck naked while singing the Oscar Meyer Weiner song and blowing kisses at strangers. And now I’ve only got one more year to accomplish both, plus get that degree thing my parents keep bothering me about. (Can you buy one of those at Wegmans?)

On the other hand, when I look back at my numerous college accomplishments, I have no regrets whatsoever. The list is glorious: dominating the pong table with a professor as my partner, stealing a piece of clothing from every member of the basketball team and enduring a beat-down by Otto the Orange in front of all my friends. (Oh, and I did frolic through campus buck naked. But I was singing ‘Thriller,’ not the Oscar Meyer Weiner song.)

So, I challenge you, SU Class of 2015. Break through the shackles of high school adolescence and embrace the utter lunacy and childishness that comes with being a college ‘adult.’ As long as your shenanigans don’t land you in prison for more than a night, you won’t regret a thing.

May you have a happy and productive freshman year. I hope to frolic with you sometime at a Syracuse city precinct holding cell.

Just don’t be singing ‘Thriller.’ That’s my bit.

Danny Fersh is a senior broadcast journalism major and his columns appear every Wednesday. He would like to thank his sister Rachel for helping him make this piece as tasteful as possible. Also, if you see Otto the Orange, tell him Danny graduated already. He can be reached at dafersh@syr.edu. Follow Danny on twitter at @fershprince.