how I ended up drunk in a fraternity house kitchen, then in a cop car when I was 19.

It was a typical night at the Border freshman year.  The Border is the notorious underage bar that is constantly being raided by the DPD (Denver Police Department) for 19-year-olds with fake IDs, such as ourselves.  But that never stopped us from taking advantage of their limitless supply of cheap booze and good times.

Last call came at about 1:30am, as usual, and we drunkenly stumbled out the front doors and started socializing in the parking lot with all the frat boys (eh-hem, fraternity men), whom we had been recently drinking with.  This one senior from a particularly fratty fraternity (like 7 popped collars fratty), Bob*, invited me and two of my sorority sisters back to the fraternity house for post-bar drunchies.  Being the enthusiastic-about-everything-Greek-Life-including-drunkenly-raiding-the-frat-house-kitchens-Freshmen that we were, we excitedly accepted the offer.

We followed Bob the two blocks back to his respective fraternity house and he showed us the kitchen.  The fridge was filled with all sorts of delicious food: nacho ingredients, tortillas, leftover pizza, bagel bites, and many other glorious drunchies that made my stomach growl with happiness.

Being the great drunk chefs we were, we created nacho tacos by piling tortilla chips and cheese on a tortilla and microwaving it until the cheese was about 1/4 melted.  I think if I had been sober, they wouldn't have been that great, but after the ample amounts of alcohol I had with my pathetically low 19-year-old tolerance, it was the best thing that could have ever graced my presence that night.

After devouring the nacho tacos and socializing for what could have been minutes or hours (I wouldn't know), one of my friends wandered upstairs to make regrettable decisions and the other friend I was with left with some other guy, leaving me alone with Bob.

Now Bob is a nice guy, when other people are around.  But when you are female and you are trapped alone with him in a room, particularly drunk in the middle of the night, he gets little creepy.  He continued our conversation, slowly inching toward me with that maliciously creepy look in his eye, and I tried to smile and act normal while desperately trying to find a way out.

"I'm tired," I finally declared.  "Can I sleep on your sofa?"

I know, I know...Asking to sleep at the fraternity house where he resides is probably not the best way to get out of being creeped on, but like you've probably inferred already, I was a very stupid freshman.

He brought me a sleeping bag and offered me the living room sofa, which I cuddled up on by tucking in my limbs to make my body into an uninviting, unsexy ball and pretending to snore very loudly.

Of course Bob came and tried to lie down next to me.  But he was kind of a big guy and nearly pushed me off the sofa, causing my limbs to spread out to catch my balance.  He rested a large, heavy arm around me, trapping me on the sofa and crushing my ribs from the side.

I don't know how I finally got rid of him.  I think he got up to go to the bathroom, but either way, I made a mad dash for the door as soon as I got the chance.

I was about two blocks away from the house, wandering toward my freshman dorm, when a cop car pulls up next to me.

"What are you doing out by yourself at this hour?!" the cop yelled.  Terrified, I looked around and realized the entire area was deserted.  And I was wearing a sort-of short dress, so I probably looked like an easy target.  And obviously I was sexy so everyone would have totally wanted me anyway.  Just kidding about the sexy part.

"I'll give you a ride," the cop offered.

It was 3:15am at this point, and I was still 6-7 blocks from my dorm, so I happily accepted and got in the front seat.

I didn't bother buckling my seatbelt, but regretted that immediately as he started driving.  He went about 60mph in a 30mph zone, taking turns very sharply.  The first turn onto the main street, I slid across the smooth, leather seat and nearly crashed into him, stopping myself just in the nick of time.

The entire 3 minute ride, the cop told me about how dangerous the campus could be, and girls shouldn't be walking around by themselves at night because we can get gang banged and murdered and tortured and kidnapped and traded into the sex trade and never see our friends or our precious sorority sisters ever again, let alone spend another night at the Border (GASP!)

He dropped me off at the dorms.  As soon as he took off, I barfed in a trash can.

I'm not sure if it was caused by the ample amounts of alcohol, the taco nachos, or his crazy, psychotic driving.

Moral of the Story: If a frat boy named Bob offers you drunchies from the fraternity's kitchen after last call at the Border, just say no.


*Bob isn't his real name.  I'm too nice.