My parents bought me a new car, as promised, the weekend before I was to move into the MS dorms. I didn’t particularly care for the dorms but my mom insisted that they were a necessary experience during college and bought every gadget and item you could ever want. This promised “experience” started with meeting my roommate, Cary, who looked like a bitch, and talked like a Jersey whore. I could tell this was going to be a great year.
I could tell that Cary did not come from a wealthy family from the way she was looking at my belongings as I unpacked. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop from their sockets as she asked me if my Zac Posen bag was real. I had to fight the urge to tell her that the handbag cost more than her college tuition this year because I was still trying to be nice. At least at that point I was.
My parents left after helping me move into the dorms. They tried to take me to another dinner with Cary but I firmly declined, knowing that there were several “welcoming parties” that would require my attendance. In retrospect I probably should have gone to dinner.
Cary was disappointed that I declined on dinner. I could tell she was eager to go to the fancy restaurant my parents had offered. I didn’t really care what she thought, but to make it up to her I agreed to let her attend a welcoming party with me. It was being thrown at a frat and I was eager to get a taste of college life, without going home to my parents’ house afterwards.
Getting ready for this party entailed; putting on clothing that made me look hot, taking two seconds to check my make- up, and one spritz of body spray. Total time: fifteen minutes. Cary on the other hand was only half finished curling her hair after fifteen minutes, which pissed me off. I never spent a long time curling my hair. What’s the point when some guy is going to pull it until its straight when you’re mid- fuck?
I threatened to leave without her if she wasn’t ready in five minutes. Exactly five minutes later I left and made it all the way to the first floor entrance before I heard Cary’s nasal voice shrieking after me to wait. I waited, because I was still trying to be nice.
It wasn’t until she caught up to where I was standing that I noticed what she was wearing. She had on a tight purple dress that only a call girl would wear, and her black hair was in a messy ponytail due to the fact that I did not allow her to finish curling it. Her shoes were obviously patent leather pumps that I swear I had seen a stripper wear on a documentary about prostitution. I didn’t say anything but made a mental note to keep my distance at the party, just in case her skankiness decided to rub off.
We arrived at the party a few hours after it had started and immediately I took some of the molly that I had brought with me. Someone I met in the hallway shared a line of coke with me, and the frat boys kept my red plastic cup full of beer all night. The party was impressive, from what I remember, and thankfully Cary disappeared into one of the boys rooms early on. I didn’t worry about her, or go looking for her. I figured she could find her own way home. I was too busy trying to find a guy at the party that didn’t still have training wheels on his dick. My search yielded no such person, and I stumbled back to the dorms with a few other girls who lived in the same building. The RA’s did not look pleased when we signed in at the door. It might have had something to do with it being 4:30am, or that we were almost too drunk to stand, but they let us through. I remember going to sleep in my clothes and thinking about how great it would be if Cary just disappeared.
Unfortunately, I was not so lucky.
The next morning was supposed to be our first day of classes. I was informed by a very solemn RA that Cary was hospitalized early in the morning “due to an overconsumption of multiple substances.” Really? It’s the first party and you already fuck yourself over? The RA said that Cary would be back within the week, most likely, and if I needed to talk to anyone there was a counseling center on campus. I asked her if I could talk to someone about having the room all to myself and transferring Cary somewhere else. The RA did not look pleased, and walked away.
After that I got dressed and headed to some unmemorable class, where the professor talked like a fag. This was only entertaining for about ten minutes, at which point I put on my headphones and started reading the textbook in order to learn the material.
Once class was finished I decided to visit the cafeteria for lunch and as I expected I was served by someone my own age, who had no food experience. They made me a crappy sandwich, which I only ate half of because it tasted like cardboard with ranch on it. In the back I could see the old, weathered, “lunch lady” types washing dishes or some shit. From the look on their faces I would venture to say their lives sucked. I left to go to the remainder of my classes, collect the syllabi, and listen to the professors go on and on about their dull classes and rules. Then I went back to the dorm to sleep because I was still kind of hung over.