Last night, one of our staff members lost all sense of innocence and brain power and ended up crashing at the shittiest dorm known to Broncos. He wishes to not have his name revealed for the attention could potentially cost him his upcoming job at Yummies. Although the shit that he saw was previously thought to be unfathomable, here is what he saw.
We’ll jump right into it and say that after meeting a freshman, which the Y Bar contains way too many of, we drunkenly agreed an Uber ride back to her place. We were too gazeboed to ask where she lived, but the moment the vehicle took us up that big ass hill we just knew that we were in for some shameful and regrettable shit. Apparently, the front desk bitches weren’t too fond of seeing a bearded fifth-year, Patagonia-wearing fool enter the shithole that is Valley 2. They asked for our ID, which literally took me about 15 minutes to find in a wallet full of condoms and admission passes to Déjà Vu. Once we found it, they wouldn’t accept it, so we ran.
After running down the halls, the girl we were with completely forgot which room she lived in, so we were all over the hallways running into the other lame freshman that were staying in that night. On the lower-level hallway, we encountered a 300-pound RA and apparently threatened to go all Conor McGregor on our asses, but we just ended up stealing his Two Fellas and hiding in a random chick’s bathroom for, like, 15 minutes until we thought the coast was clear.
At this point, we seriously thought life was turning into a really bad Die Hard sequel with all these floors that we had to run through, but this got worse since we completely lost the girl. As we desperately searched through the third floor, we saw nothing but a bunch of half-dressed dudes walking around and not playing Fortnite, but rather talking all about their upcoming flights and a big bunch of aviation science that sounded like a foreign language to us. Not a single female in sight. We could swear to Buster Bronco that we were on the wrong floor of Henry Hall or some shit.
This part is what we remember least, but do recall somehow ending up in those ghetto-ass laundry rooms in the basement. We needed to find some way to wash the puke off of our Lulu khakis, so we tried working the washer but our drunk ass couldn’t figure that out to save a life. Next thing we know, a Jimmy John’s dude came out of nowhere with the girl we were with. Apparently at Y Bar we told her that we’d buy her some JJ’s if we came home with her. You could imagine our excitement as we stood there unbalanced in our good ol’ Calvin Klein’s.
So we went back to her room, which was a lot smaller than we had remembered. We saw nothing but hippie tapestries and posters of indie rock bands that we’ve never heard of. Her roommate was also in the room too, staring at her laptop wondering which lingerie she should buy (you always want what you can’t have). Long short-story short—we didn’t end up getting any action since we were so beyond plastered that we passed out immediately after laying on her lofted bed and then later waking up hours later on the floor. We were also two hours late for our interview at Yummies.