That Party Last Night

I'm woken up this morning by the buzzing sound of my phone vibrating against my dresser. I'm getting a call. It's 11 AM. I grumpily sit up and grab the phone.

"Mm'ello?"

"Hey, dude"

"What's up, Bo?"

"Well some family friends are coming over today. Could you like, clean up the room a little bit?"

"Umm..."

"Yeah like there's a cigar on my desk, and some beer cans... I just don't want them to see that stuff when they come over."

"Alright"

"Thanks dude."

Grumbling, I get out of bed. Last night, our room saw an impressive sequence of drinking games lasting long into the night; it was at least 2AM before the last guy stumbled out the door. Needless to say, "some beer cans" was a bit of an understatement. I got to work.

After some hasty gathering of the empty cans and various bottles and cups in the room it was time to take out the trash. I lumbered out of my room toward the trash room down the hall. In one hand I carried a large trash bag full of empty cans, in the other a cardboard "Coors" box full of more cans. I had on pajama pants, and no shirt. My chest proudly displayed the permanent-marker artwork of some girls on my floor: A heart with arrows pointing up toward my head and down toward my crotch.

As I trudged grumpily down the hall, from around the corner a student emerged. Accompanying him were his mother and four-year-old sister. We walked past each other without exchanging eye-contact.

I love college.