It Happened to Me: I Spent Five Minutes in LAX NCA and Now I Have a Massive Ulcer

Picture this: it is your second weekend on The Hill. You and your friends have just skillfully finessed your way into LAX NCA, where the music is loud, the heat is oppressive, and some sophomore is dry-heaving into a bag of Doritos. You stay for a few minutes — just long enough to acquaint yourself with the entire first floor of Gund — before receding back into the tepid womb that is your first-year dorm. 

Upon waking up the next morning, you feel different. Perhaps, you suppose, you’re a changed woman — perhaps last night’s sweaty pilgrimage finally transformed you into the poised, self-sufficient, borderline emaciated Kenyon girl that you’ve always aspired to be. 

As it turns out, you’ve just developed a massive ulcer.

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It Happened to Me: I Got Stuck in a Blizzard for 15 Hours

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image credit: SnowBrains.com

Hello, yes, it’s that time of year again. Everybody’s making the trek home, whether that involves putting your trust in an elaborate bureaucratic system hellbent on putting you in a metal tube that slingshots you through the air, or taking matters into our own hands and driving home. I live on Long Island, a fact that for some reason upsets every single person I know. This means, among other things, that it’s a nine-hour drive from here to home, and with City traffic and Long Island traffic, it’s more like a twelve hour drive home. So I usually fly, but I have notoriously horrible luck traveling. If I fly, there’s about a fifty percent chance my flight will get cancelled. I’ve been laid over and stranded in Charlotte, Seattle, LaGuardia, Columbus, and Washington D.C., and one time I booked a flight that didn’t exist.

[Editor’s note: I was on the same flight as Chris for Thanksgiving break and we did have to deplane and wait for a new one because our first plane’s door hatch was broken, causing a 2 hour delay. Bad travel luck confirmed]

So last spring break I thought, why don’t I drive home. I didn’t have a car, but my friend Lily did, and she lived just outside New York City. Eight hour drive home, take the train into the city, and from the city to the island. What could go wrong?

I got stuck in a blizzard for fifteen hours.

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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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