Frat Guys Abroad: An Epedemic

I’m going to come to the defense of women here. For far too long, we have ridiculed girls for how annoying they are when they return from studying abroad. As much as Instagram highlight reels of gelato in Rome make me want to go into my little sister’s bathroom, take her Proactive acne wash step two toner, and squeeze the bottle into my eyeballs until I can only vaguely make out shapes, we aren’t perfect either. 

As much as it sucks that COVID has taken away such a unique part of the college experience, I have to admit I’m a little grateful I don’t have to listen to my friends that went overseas not shut the fuck up about it. I love traveling, and I think it’s fucking awesome that people get to expand their horizons and explore other cultures, but I haven’t missed having to tell a kid that got bottle service one night in Barcelona; damn that’s crazy as he peruses through a Snapchat memory catalog deeper than Jeffrey Epstein’s dropboxThat’s awesome you like Liverpool now, and I truly hope your bet hits, but if you think we’re turning off a Tulsa vs. Cincinnati college basketball game that we all have way too much money on, you’re a psychopath. 

I couldn’t imagine how sick it was as an intern at the Bank of Ireland for a two-week period, but the drunken twenty-minute conversation you’re having with me about crypto is going nowhere, and these two girls that came to our pregame trying to get fucked up somehow give less of a shit than I do. Luckily, I haven’t experienced this, but I have friends from other schools that claim they know a kid that came back with an accent. AN ACCENT?! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?! Imagine being the kid that comes home from studying abroad saying bruv unsarcastically. I would rather listen to a freshman tri-delt talk about her big-little reveal for hours rather than associate myself with anybody that would attempt to claim they picked up an accent in a semester’s time. I haven’t even mentioned the guys that come home and scour the dark web for ketamine. The guys that navigate campus drug dealers like their Billy Beane finding undervalued prospects in hopes of sinking into a K-Hole on a Wednesday night. 

So please, feel free to share anecdotes about your travels, but don’t be the guy that’s putting up Snapchat memories from six months ago of him doing Whippets in a Croatian nightclub.

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