You’re an upperclassman, and living that apartment life is feeling pretty great right about now. Peirce is only serving pasta marinara and cold squash again? Not a problem for you, because you have some mac and cheese at home just waiting to be warmed up on the stove top of your sweet, sweet kitchenette. Hate wearing flip flops, but hate foot fungus even more? Step right into your very own shower. Feels good, doesn’t it? You love your apartment, and you love your roommates. But more importantly, you love to party. And where parties are, first years will surely follow. These are….the first years who will crash your party and drink all your Keystone.
- Girl who thought her friend would be here by now. “Hi,” she says, checking her phone when you open the door. “Amanda told me to come. Is she here?” You aren’t exactly sure which Amanda she’s talking about (you know a lot of Amandas) but you let her in. She sits on your couch and checks Instagram all night. Amanda never shows.
- Boy herd. Who are these boys? You don’t know, but let them in anyway. They wear baseball caps and Adidas slides, and none of them make direct eye contact with you. You wonder if they were expecting to know people at the party. They linger for two hours, then leave without a trace.
- Scruffy brown hair from California. He smiles and waves at someone behind you when you open the door. You can’t remember his name, but you think he probably is from Hollywood, due to his appearance and early affinity for the DPhis. He talks to more people at your party than you do, and goes home with a sophomore with a septum piercing.
- Drunk girl and co. “I’m sorry, my friend is drunk,” giggles this first year, watching drunk girl dance on top of your coffee table. Drunk girl brought three friends with her, none of whom are drinking. The friends dance with drunk girl for a while, then stand in a tight circle in your kitchen. Boy herd attempts to strike up a conversation with drunk girl and co., but co. is too busy watching drunk girl to notice.
- Long hair boy, the prince of vomit. He throws up in the bush outside your apartment as you open the door. You weren’t about to let him in (because of his vomity nature) but the boy herd moves toward the door and absorbs him as one of their own. Once the boy herd takes him, you can no longer tell which boy he is. That is, until he vomits again, this time in your sink.