One of the most talked about aspects of college life is definitely the raging frat parties. I have never been the “party type” as what my friends and I consider a party is playing Minecraft in my basement. The friend group I’d found in college was different from the one I was used to. They all enjoyed partying and I craved the good old “college experience” so I desperately wanted to be involved. Of course, planning was a pain. The first step was figuring out where I was going to crash for the night. I don’t live on campus, so I decided it was best for me to sleep over at my friend’s dorm. However, after my friend spoke to their roommate, she claimed that she didn’t know me and didn’t feel comfortable with me sleeping over. This created the first obstacle in getting a college experience: finding a place to sleep. I wasn’t comfortable asking other people who were joining us if I could sleep over— I either hardly knew them or didn’t know them at all.
My brain then decided to say, “Why not turn your car into a hotel for the night?”
Since this was a Halloween-themed party, I had to dress accordingly. And what better way to do that than to dress up as Mario and Luigi with one of my best friends. My friend and I looked like Walmart versions of Mario and Luigi as it was a very low-budget costume. The outfit consisted of a red top and black shorts paired with knee-high socks. The only reason you could tell I was Mario was because my hat had the letter “M” on it. I would argue that the best part of the party isn’t the actual party itself, but the getting ready part. The uncontrollable laughter, the lie to my parents that we were just watching a movie, and the pictures in the dorm bathrooms with a random pair of underwear on the floor.
The excitement in the air intensified once the Uber came and we finally arrived at the frat house to have the time of our lives.
I had high expectations for the party (which in retrospect sounds very dumb). I thought about how there’d be crazy colorful lights and non-stop dancing. Instead, what I walked into was a group of guys standing by the door acting like bodyguards. Once we got past “security” I remember entering very warily. We looked around and realized it was a tiny house. I’m not shaming that; it’s just that this house couldn’t fill the amount of people pouring in.
The downstairs part of the house had to be the closest thing I have ever faced to suffocation. I’m talking about bodies so close together that you can’t get passed without plowing through. After navigating through the maze of bodies, my friends and I found a nice corner where we could try to dance with limited moves.
Apparently, I’m not a big fan of bodies slamming into me because my friend and I decided to sit on the couch while the feeling of dread flowed into my stomach
All I could think about was how I wanted to go home.
My friend’s mom came to pick her up because she had to get up early the next day. She offered that her mom could drop me off on campus, the problem was that I would have nowhere to stay. The night continued with me sitting on the couch as everyone around me laughed and enjoyed themselves. The downstairs music tried to lure me but my fear of getting trampled won the fight so the couch became my “safe haven” where I tried to look busy on my phone. My friends crawled back upstairs, and by that time, the sober people decided it was time to leave. The Uber filled me with the relief that it was finally over.
Unexpectedly, I had more laughs in the dorm’s bathroom.
My friend and I were joking about how I pronounced our professor’s name and the pair of underwear still lying on the floor. With my items packed away and my eyes fighting to stay open, I headed towards my new “room.” I was thinking about driving home at 3 a.m., but the wrath of my parents made me think twice. And there, my first real college experience ended with sleeping in my car and thinking about whose pair of underwear was on the bathroom floor.
