It Happened to Me: A Collection of One-Line Stories

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We all have fun stories about meeting celebrities, punching windows, and being stood up by our professors that have so many twists and turns that not even a full post can thoroughly cover. However, some stories only need a single sweet line to burst into the world. Here are some of the Thrill Editors’ best, and shortest, “It Happened to Me”s.

“Campo caution taped up all the doors in Horvitz during a blackout while I was still inside.”

“I threw up in old side and just left it there.”

“I drunkenly tried to have phone sex in the middle of a Taft party.”

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It Happened to Me: I Opened the Mather Door with my Debit Card

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Kenyon likes to boast about how all our doors lock like they are supposed to. However, the Caples door reportedly doesn’t lock in the winter and there’s a door on the far side of Mather that you can apparently just rip open. But this story isn’t about either of those doors. This story is about a time when I went to one of the Mather doors, other than the one that you can rip open, put my debit card up to the card reader, and opened it.

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It Happened to Me: Stuck in the Higley Elevator

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SOMEONE SAVE THEM ~via gettyimages.com

BREAKING: Senior Kenyatta (Kenny) Viel ’17 got STUCK in an ELEVATOR! Kenny is a senior Molecular Biology major (with an Anth minor and an African Diaspora concentration), which means she spends quite a lot of time in the science quad. Last week, she spent way, WAY too much time in the science quad, getting stuck in the Higley elevator. Read on to hear her harrowing tale!

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It Happened to Me: I Broke the Bookstore Window and The Thrill Staff Made Me Write About It

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A guest post by Ethan Fuirst–senior, libra, window breaker

There’s a table in the bookstore that I’ve been particularly fond of for a few years now. It’s a little round ditty for two next to the window. It’s a perfect location– isolated enough to share private sagas of heartbreak and friendship, but it is also snug up against the window so passersby can see how many friends I have. At that very table, I’ve had some of the best conversations of the past few years.  More importantly, I’ve heard (and spilled) really juicy gossip at that table (using a volume just quiet enough so that the bookstore customers can’t hear what I’m saying, but just loud enough so that they know they’re missing something good). One could say I became a man at that table. At the very least, I’ve eaten thousands of over-priced chocolate-covered almonds there.

Like many other weekday nights throughout my college career, I was sitting at that Very Special Table on a Monday in February. The windows were painted with cute scenes of innocent kittens playing with balls of yarn. My friend Andrew Perelman (whose name I use in full so that if any future employers google him, they know about his involvement) walked by on the sidewalk outside and saw me at the table. He came up to the window and waved.

It should be noted that I startle easily.

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It Happened to Me: I Rushed the Thrill, was Hazed, and Suffered Irreparable Physical and Emotional Damage

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It was the start of the second semester of my first year at Kenyon, and like many first years, I felt that my life on campus needed to embellished. Many of my peers turned to Kenyon’s Greek community, but I didn’t think that was the right choice for me, primarily because of my general fear of men. But in the week after Rush Week, I saw an announcement encouraging me to rush the Thrill.

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It Happened to Me: I got a Radio Show, and Now I’m a Tool

It Happened to Me: I got a Radio Show, and Now I’m a Tool

It all started this summer. I was at the gym  back home as part of my resolution to get “bikini body ready” to show all of my Kenyon comrades that I beat the crap out of the “freshman fifteen.” As I’m running on the elliptical and sweatin’ my little heart out, I receive a text from one of my good friends. She wants to start a radio show for our sophomore year. We spend the rest of the summer exchanging ideas, sharing articles, and watching podcasts to get inspired. This is what I need, I whisper, a wholesome sophomore year.

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