You had one too many pussy juices at Ted’s and now you’re face down ass up in one of UConn’s far-from-luxurious dorms, next to somebody whose snore reminds you of your childhood Eeyore teddy. You wake up, calm for a few seconds, until you get a good look around. There’s an open animal cage by the door and a mostly-empty 7/11 pizza box. You gotta get the fuck out of here but how? You’re not familiar with this dorm (oh god you hooked up with a freshman, we’ll get to that later), and who knows if that’s actually a door or a closet.
You’re already mad at yourself for agreeing to go back to this steam room of fecal matter, and the the cadavers across the street whispering “whore” in your ear didn’t help. But(t) since this place already smells like shit, release a fart strong enough to rearrange the tectonic plates of Storrs, wait for your sexual-colleague to go puke, and leave in their absence. Getting out of North parallels to walking drunk through a corn maze, so don’t be scared to ask for directions on your way out. They don’t know what you just did, that’s between you, the tectonic plates, and the spirit world.
It’s dark, you can’t find the light switch, the wanker you just shanked is moaning something about quantum physics. You’re only way out is to whisper “Neil Degrasse Tyson is a fraud” and wait 4 seconds before the door gets kicked down by a small kid in a Marvel shirt with ramen noodles sticking out from between his lips. Blame the sleeping buffoon for the curse and slide past the Avenger, and take the stairs, the elevators take eons. Try spitting down from the first floor between the gaps in the staircases. The sound of slop echos and it will cheer you up.
If you’re lucky, the window can be pushed up about a foot. If you have the same body type as Conan O’Brien and fall on bent knees you’ll escape with no injuries and no morning-breath infused “hey babe.” But if you’re girthier than that, the front door is really your only way out. The ceilings don’t lift, and the floors were engineered to withstand the weight of 30+ drunk freshmen per room so chiseling your way down to fall onto Brad isn’t an option.
Good news, the ceiling tiles are mobile! Push one up, throw yourself into the abyss of dust and 4 year old Bud Lights, then wait for your lubed up pelvis-pal to slide out of bed for a shower. Gracefully descend back down like the angel you aren’t, peacefully gather your personals and go get your Plan B, because you can’t blame immaculate conception this time.
Location location location. Recognize the fact that 90% of the building you’re currently “touring” is foreign exchange students. Fake an accent, say “I lie, I not bird-control” and get KICKED out. Glory to all. Next time you see your McFuck, point at your uterus and give him a toothy smile, letting your Beaver pour out through your teeth.
Well well, would you look at what you just did; you slept with the devil. It loves you, it won’t let you leave. Shout if anyone’s a vegan, and may the crowd hobbling in screaming “me me me” distract it as you lunge for your grand escape.Sprint down the asbestos smoking hallways to the nearest exit whilst holding your breath. Make the sign of the cross as the smell of cow shit hits you and run to to a place of worship, ANY place of worship.
You’re thinking about leaving? Are you out of your mind? You’ve just woken up next to a future doctor of America. You’re colorblind and know 4 fancy words, stay in the damn bed. Fake a romance and compliment his mothers quiche, this is the only way you’re making it in the world.
With a group of dorm buildings as diverse as McMahon isn’t, you’re going to need all the guidance you can get in properly escaping every unwanted morning after buddy, which is all of them.
Oh hey, listen and subscribe to Talk of Shame: