GHOST OF ROOMDRAW

The last couple of days weeks months have gone by in a bit of a whirlwind, with the majority of my sleep coming in short bursts while I chew, bathe, or try to slow things down in bed. Powernaps, while somewhat refreshing, still require time in which I am not talking to someone important or driving. I submit to you that the following story could very well be a figment of my fallow imagination, though I prefer to enjoy it on a "reality based" level.

The story begins thusly:

Picture me as a freshman in college, cocksure, charming, Billy Idol haircut. I have a bottle of Pick 'N Save vodka on my desk, a lemon, and a stack of sugar packets I stole from food service the day before. There is also a svelte, redheaded ultimate frisbee player in my room. I became aware of her thong at shot #7 (did not see, but became aware of). Sometime between shots #12 and #14 I remember thinking to myself, am I almost too drunk to perform? wow! College is kewl! Then there was a temporary loss of traction near or around key elements of my anatomy, I think, and some sweating, a little cursing, possibly some giggling (or name-calling), then kind of a grey + red blur for 20 - 90 minutes or so, and perhaps I may have done a couple lines of Sweet 'N Low. I think.

Anyway, turns out she had a boyfirend. It made the next three years kinda awkward.

Fast forward a little to the end of Junior year during the sinister horrorshow bloodbath that is the housing draw, where lifelong friendships are torn to pieces, bribery and threats of violence mingle with the desperate pleading of underclassmen, and the trading of human capital hearkens back to a sadder American age (if we can get the quint, I'll take the two Sophomores, but if we don't, I'm ditching one so we can get the quad by the gym).

As you may have already guessed, these two events are somewhat connected. For you see, the jilted boyfriend from freshman year sent spies into our super-secret housing draw caucus (midnight on the 4th full moon after the Equinox) to steal our strategy. At the last minute he scraped together 5(!) random people to steal our sextet right out from under our noses, forcing us to reshuffle and improvise a sub-par plan B.

Now I know, and when I see him again? Some motherfucker's going down. Housing Draw is forever, bitches.