TFM
This is the second story of my trip to visit Temple University in February. The first one is a little bit crazier, so if you want to read it you can find it here.
A little bit of backstory: my freshman year of college was an amazing time. I had a group of about ten guys that I spent 95% of my time with, and almost every night was spent in a room together fucking around until 2 a.m. This is all fun for me, but in all fairness to the many people we disturbed while we had a good time, we were by no means a quiet group.
Flash forward to February of this year. My friends and I walked about eight blocks on pure ice through North Philly absolutely eating shit along the way, and when we finally got to the party we were going to, every girl there was on their way out. This isn’t really related to the story, but it was kind of wild. Apparently the one girl’s grandmother died, and they all had to leave because of it. Rest in peace to that girl’s grandmother.
Anyway, there were probably about ten of us there playing pong and talking. After another stellar rendition by yours truly of “Just Give Me a Reason” by P!nk ft. Nate Ruess, I sat down to rest my voice so that I could serenade everyone again in about an hour. I started talking to a girl who, by chance, went to Pitt for her first year of college. That’s where I go. She looked through our mutual followers on Instagram and told me that one girl I followed lived on her floor. I truly regret what I did next.
“No shit. She lived on the floor below me. You were on that floor?” I asked her.
“Yeah, I was 2107, what were you?” she answered.
I couldn’t believe it. Not only did she go to Pitt her freshman year and live on the floor below me, but she also lived in the room directly under me. My mind was blown. She was pissed.
After finding out who I was, she proceeded to rip me a new asshole for the next forty-five minutes. Evidently, she didn’t enjoy the late-night fuck arounds that my friends and I had as much as I did. I mean she really hated it. I was shown videos of her slamming on her ceiling and huge booms coming back from our room. That of course was my roommate and I picking up our chairs and slamming them on the ground in retaliation – I mean, we were trying to have a good time and she was really bothering us with those bangs. My personal favorite is a message to her RA that she showed me. I’ll give you all a brief excerpt:
1:12 a.m.: “I have been trying to sleep since around 12:30ish and the boys above me are throwing and breaking things and yelling very loudly. I don’t know which room it is, but I assume it’s the one right above me, 2207.”
I knew exactly what night that was. We weren’t throwing and breaking things, but we did set up a mattress on the ground and were doing WWE finisher moves onto it. She went onto say, “I have always given them the benefit of the doubt that they just got excited about something and hoped they would quiet down quickly. But this has been going on for a while.” It did go on for a while. Probably like an hour, but in all fairness, I was REALLY trying to perfect John Cena’s class Attitude Adjustment. Practice was needed.
So, yeah. After a good hour of getting absolutely flamed she finally accepted my apology because I think she had come to see the great guy that I am. But if she’s somehow reading this, I do have something to say: I’m not sorry even a little bit because I’d like to see her perfect a Sister Abigail without making a little bit of noise.
