Even more surprising than the conversation was the conversationalist; the lipstick-applier was Ben McJunkin, a towering baby-faced Paul Bunyan of a 3L who was one of the Mr. Wolverine contestants last year. He was dressed up as what I consider the most hilarious male rendition of Molly Ringwald I have ever seen. Three Molly Ringwalds stapled together would have probably taken up less space in the dressing room than Ben did in his gorgeous flowing pink strappy summer dress that night. We were getting ready for our respective class skits, while Mr. Wolverine 2009 was going on, full-throttle, above our heads.

This year, the Mr. Wolverine competition has completed its sixth official year of existence, and I'm proud to be able to claim that I was one of the contestants in last year's event. It was the silliest, busiest, most stressful, and most rewarding thing I did that year, and perhaps in all of my time here at Michigan Law. A lot of us attend the annual law school boy pageant, but I'm not sure many people know how much love and labor goes into pulling off a shenanigan like Mr. Wolverine while simultaneously trying to keep up in class and doing all the other half-million things law students are obligated to do (like, for example, still looking for a motherloving job, for chrissake). So I thought I would take this time to describe that experience (ordeal?) from the point of view of one of the participants, and get a few other opinions along the way.

For those of you who don't know why the Mr. Wolverine competition exists (and I didn't for three semesters), I'll digress for a moment and paint the background scenery. Mr. Wolverine is an annual fundraiser organized by the Latino Law Students Association (LLSA) with the goal of raising money for LLSA's "Project Comunidad" program. What's that? Embarrassingly, until I wrote this article, I had no idea. My crude answer was, "Um, it's like a program that helps Hispanic people. Like in the community or something." Although that is technically correct, you might have guessed that it leaves a whole lot to be desired, definitionally speaking. Sort of like: "What? Palsgraf? Um, it's like, about torts and stuff."

Lara Bueso, 3L and LLSA co-chair, gave me a much more competent description of the program: "Project Comunidad is a fellowship given to 1Ls who commit to public service for the summer. Specifically, we encourage LLSA members to give back to underrepresented communities. SFF funding is very limited, so this fellowship helps some of our own LLSA members receive a stipend for the summer. The fellowship is in its sixth year and was founded by the same student who created Mr. Wolverine six years ago. The amounts vary each year depending on how much we raise through Mr. Wolverine and other fundraising programs such as bake sales, t-shirt sales, and more. The biggest fundraiser for the scholarship, though, is the Mr. Wolverine pageant."

Recipients of the Project Comunidad fellowship are chosen by a joint committee of Law School alumni and administrators, and the winners have used their fellowships to work in such organizations as the Michigan Migrant Legal Assistant Project, Public Counsel of Los Angeles (the largest pro bono law firm in the world), and the Special Litigation Unit of New York Legal Assistance Group (NYLAG). Hearing all the good that Mr. Wolverine helped make happen, I feel less ambivalent about having danced in my underwear to the tune of "Footloose" in front of hundreds of my closest peers and future professional colleagues.

(Not true; I seek out semi-nude dancing in front of crowds of spectators whenever I can. Me and the Times Square Naked Cowboy used to fight. Who's that? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naked_Cowboy.)

Enough digressing; back to the titular event. This past Thursday, January 28th, I enjoyed the novel experience of actually being in the audience during Mr. Wolverine, instead of sweating bullets onstage. (No, concerned readers, I didn't go 1L year. I was too busy rocking back and forth in a hard wooden chair in the Reading Room and muttering something about "all work and no play.") And it was an excellent show: my face hurt from three hours of laughing. I can attest to the amount of work it must have taken; preparing for the show literally consumed my life for the entire month of January last year.

The format of the show was the same as last year's: an opening dance number by the 17 alluring Mr. Wolverine hopefuls (18 last year), followed by introductions of contestants and judges, the professor impersonations, the 1L skit, the 2L skit, intermission, dance routine #2, the 3L skit, the announcement of the finalists, and, finally, the crowning of Mr. Wolverine himself.

Most notable in this year's show was the unexpected, unprecedented crowning of a 1L Mr. Wolverine, the now forever-famous Andy Trafford. For the entirety of the competition's storied six-year history, 3Ls have exclusively won the coveted crown. (Is it just me, or does that crown look like a Pope hat?). In fact, I remember being told last year by another contestant, "Forget about winning, the judges only pick 3Ls." Apparently, the judges decided to send a clear signal to the universe that this is not true. When the lights came back on at the end of the show, I did a quick scan of the people sitting around me to gauge the response. It was apparent that the 3Ls were bereft.

"Unbelievable. This is terrible. I'm speechless." (3L behind me, looking pale.)

"It's a disaster that a 1L won - what a terrible decision . . . it's an embarrassing outcome." (Dan Horwitz, 3L, Mr. W contestant 2009.)

My response to the overturning of years of precedent was a bit less fatalistic; I thought it would be good motivation for future competitions. Other students had similar thoughts:

"Having a 1L win is terrible, but I don't consider it a 1L winning - I consider it a 3L winning two years early." (Nic Markman, 2L, Mr. W contestant 2009.)

"I think the fact that the judges picked Andy was great[.] Additionally, it doesn't take a Richard Posner to figure out that the whole competition will be better now that all the candidates think that they have a chance of winning." (Will Ellerbe, 1L summer starter, Mr. W contestant 2010.)

Will does have a point; there was something futile in being a non-3L Mr. Wolverine contender last year. Perhaps with this year's upset, we'll have even more vigorous competition in future years.

But how is that even possible? I mentioned it earlier, and I'll return to the topic again now: Mr. Wolverine is a veritable shit-ton of work. For a full month preceding the competition, the Mr. Wolverine contestants meet three or four times per week (more in the final week before the show) for several hours at a time, just to rehearse the dance routines. That doesn't even factor in the work they each put into class skits, the professor impersonations, and the firmwear walk-off. In my experience, classes and other law school obligations had to take a back seat for those several weeks while we all made treks to Office Max for posterboard and tempera paint, to the Salvation Army for skit and professor props, and to Espresso Royale for massive, stomach-grinding cups of coffee to keep us from passing out. Raising the stakes might mean eliminating class - or sleep - entirely.

What would compel anybody to take on an additional 20 hours of work per week when law students can barely keep up with the work we already have on our plates? I can't really say, but I think it's a mixture of peer pressure, glory, vanity, and sheer momentum. It's not like we win any money (that would be awesome, though), and it's not like we can put this on our resumes. (Interviewer with eyes askance: "So, err, tell me about this 'Mr. Wolverine' thing . . .") Frankly, I think we all try hard because every one of us (and I'm not just speaking about the Mr. Wolverine contestants) are wired to work hard when we're presented with a task. That's how we got to law school after all. And there's the ever-present horror of humiliating yourself in front of hundreds of people, too. Let's not forget that motivator. What works in the classroom works on stage as well.

My biggest surprise at being a part of the show was the unexpected camaraderie that developed between us, a group of 17 or 18 (mostly) strangers. When I showed up for the first rehearsal last year, I didn't know any of the other Mr. Wolverine guys. By the end of the month, however, we had made surprisingly fast friendships. Here I think the massive workload of the show sort of mimicked what happens to all of us during our 1L years; shared misery makes us all kindred spirits, and you don't find that kind of friendship every day. Here, I defer to the words of Dan Horwitz, who I think most accurately describes the Mr. Wolverine experience: "[The] workload was intense, and muscles were sore, but overall participating last year was a good time, and let me get to know some folks I otherwise likely wouldn't have made friends with. We share a bond of shaking our asses in tighty whities that most other law students can only dream about."

If you would like to contact Tomek, look for the guy wearing the slightly-tattered red satin sash with the gold letters "TOMEK" written across the front. Alternatively, send him an email, at rg@umich.edu.