The Freshmen


“So you guys wanna get fucked up?” Amy burst into the dorm room holding her handbag high above her head while the two girls following her carried the excitement with a synchronized “Woooo!”

“A little louder and the RA will hear you. No girls after 6:00, remember?” said Christopher.He glanced out the door and ushered everyone inside.

“You want us to leave?” Amy said with a pouty face.

Benji looked up from his place on the futon, “Of course not. Chris meant to say come in, nice to see you ladies.”

Amy smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Christopher said, “Candace. Rachel. Nice to see you.”

Both answered shyly, “Hi.”

The door clicked shut and Benji shoved a pile of clothes off the futon and into the corner. Christopher turned off the television and the group circled around the mysterious bottle protruding from Amy’s purse. School hadn’t officially started but the freshman were allowed on campus a week prior and the group had become acquaintances are orientation activities. Rule numbers one and two for college freshmen included; #1 Hang out with the opposite sex and #2 Drink alcohol.

“So what did you bring us?”Christopher asked.

Amy pulled out the bottle and touted with pride, “Goldslager, you can tell it is good because it has real gold flakes.”

No one questioned Amy’s logic on how gold flakes increased the intoxicating effect of alcohol but Benji did ask, “How should we drink it?”

“Shots?” asked Rachel.

“Waterfalls?” suggested Candace.

“I think waterfalls is more of a beer game.”

Amy picked up the bottle and twisted the cap until the safety seal gave away. She took a multi-bubbled swig of the fiery liquor and set it on the floor. “Who cares as long as we get drunk.”

Everyone shrugged and then followed suit. Fifteen minutes later and everyone was starting to feel the magic.

Christopher started some good-natured jabs to break the ice, “So do Asian chicks do better with alcohol because you are killing that thing and you are like ninety pounds.”

Amy was already beginning to look bleary eyed and said, “My parents want me to do college but I don’t think I want to.” She took another drink.

Sensing a shift towards serious conversation, Christopher  asked, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go to lawyer school.”

“You mean Law School?”

“Is there a difference? I want to go to a school that makes me a lawyer. So I can be in court and stuff.”

“I don’t think you have to be a lawyer to be in court. Just ask OJ. Seriously though, you do know that you have to get an undergrad degree first, right?”

“Yeah that part is what I’m don’t like. I just want to have a lot of money and if I’m a lawyer then I have lots of money.”

Despite her cutting edge grammar and flawless logic, Benji cut a glance at Christopher that said, “Man this chick is totally trashed.” Christopher slid her keys out of her purse and pushed them under the edge of the futon in case she suddenly decided to go for a drive. He noticed that the biggest key was black and said Range Rover.

Amy took another long drink and Benji plied the bottle out of her hand, “You have to share. You can’t just come hang out and drink it all.” She laughed much too hard at the comment and tried to stand up. “I’ve have to peed.”, she pronounced to the room. She bounced her way to the bathroom and shut the door. The four people remaining in the room were partially sobered by Amy’s sudden bender and they all took a final gulp of the liquor and hid the bottle just inside the sliding closet door.

“Her dad is rich.” Candace chimed off.

“Yeah and she made the lowest score on the ACT that you could make and they still let her in. I think her dad paid someone.” Rachel added.

“So why do you guys hang out?”, Benji asked.

“She is fun. And she buys the good stuff.”

“Sounds like some BFF level shit right there.”

A toilet flushed and Amy fell out of the bathroom and into the crowded room. “I’m okay. I’m gonna just walk on my hands for a minute. Hahaha.” She lay her face on the carpet and pulled her knees up under her so that her butt was up in the air and her arms were tucked around her waist.

Benji walked over to her, “Are you okay there champ?”

“Mmmmm Flabmerrrr.” she mumbled.

Christopher draped a blanket over the moaning pile of person in the floor. With the booze hidden away she surely wouldn’t get any worse. They all decided to let her sleep it off.

The four conscious people crammed onto the futon and turned on a movie. The buzz faded into drunk and everyone was in a daze watching the movie when they heard the clink of a glass bottle against wood and a coughing sound. Zombie-Amy had somehow regained enough coordination to find the unfinished bottle of booze in the closet. She had downed the rest and passed out again, dropping the bottle and letting it roll into the wall.

Benji reported on the situation from the front lines of his position on the right side of the futon, “Oh shit man she found the bottle. Goddamn it.” Matt Lauer would be proud of such a comprehensive assessment.

Christopher stood and tried to clear the cobwebs. He was trying to assess the severity of the situation. Years later his knowledge of crime and medical dramas would have been handy but he was only a college freshman at the time and the rigorous study of prime time television had not begun. Logic was the only recourse so Benji and Christopher began to diagnose the problem.

“Is she breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Is she responsive?”

Benji shakes her lightly, “Amy!”… No response.

“You have to induce pain.”

He slaps the shit out of her and again, no response.

“I meant to pinch her or something but okay…”

“I think she is gonna die dude. Should we call someone?”

The eighteen year old rationale takes over. “No we will get in trouble. Just wait a second we can think this through.”

Alcohol is bad in large amounts. She has consumed large amounts. The previous large amount seemed to not kill her but this new amount is being absorbed in her stomach and is a problem. If the alcohol is removed from her stomach then the problem can’t get any worse.

“Okay I’ve got it!”

“What?”

“Get me a garbage can and a toothbrush. She has to puke.”

Then Christopher proceeded to induce vomiting in the listless girl while Benji held the gallon sized trash bin and they were both spattered with cinnamon gold flaked vomit that had the thickness of snot and the aromatic boost that only the light vapors of alcohol can impart. Once they were satisfied that she was empty they sat and watched her breathe and after about thirty minutes were convinced that she had a good chance of surviving the night. At that point everyone found a happy nook or cranny and passed out.

In the morning Christopher awoke to the bright lights of 6:00am streaming through the mini-blinds. His head was throbbing from a massive hangover. A faint memory of the night before started to materialize in his mind and his first thought was, “Man I hope that Amy chick isn’t dead.”

Her spot on the floor was empty. The blanket that she had used was folded neatly and her purse was missing. Her two friends were still sleeping on the futon and there was a note on the desk beside the door.

Chris and Benji, Thanks for the party. Had a good time. See you later. –Amy

Moral of the story: Don’t judge a book by its cover. That chick had an extra liver or nine lives. At some point it doesn’t matter which just so long as she had one or the other.

I miss college sometimes. If only for the stories.

-Underdaddy

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “The Freshmen

  1. I have been Amy many times. Except not rich. Or Asian. Or ever in a proper college. But you get the idea. 38 shots of Jack in an hour during a shot contest with a South African when I was in high school. Passed out, hit my head on a fireplace hearth, puked in a Geo Tracker while the driver screamed at me, “it’s brand new, don’t you dare fucking puke!” (DoesDoes the vehicle give away my age? 42, 25 years ago, and I remember bits and pieces clearly to this day.) Friend popping my contacts lenses out later that night after I was carried to someone’s basement sofa. Found out later she got railed on the weight bench by the hot older (out of school–underage ‘rape’ wasn’t mentioned much back then) guy who carried my ample body several times to safety that night. He earned that fuck! Only sorry I was too drunk to eavesdrop. Virgin hormones are hell for girls too,by the way.
    I’ve learned to handle my drunks better since then. One of many, many, MANY drunks I’ve had. I need to learn how to write so I can share my pathetic teens/twenties with others who don’t care. Thanks for the memories. Xo kori

    Like

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s