The unfortunate thing about writing ‘to be continued’ is that you’ve essentially bound yourself by oath to the continuation of whatever task you’ve left undone. Sure you could just break the oath, but … you know what, I’m just going to get on with the freaking blog post.
A couple weeks ago, I started my journal-entry-style accounts of my time as A Glorified Babysitter, where I detailed some of the crazy events that took place under my watch as a Residential Advisor. Well, here’s my follow up because a lot happens in two years.
Entry 088: Classes haven’t even begun, and I walk past an open dorm room door and see some stranger lying in the center of the floor, face rested peacefully in a puddle of his own vomit. The resident of the room is passed out on the bed, his vomit more conveniently placed in the trash can beside him. Both end up going to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. One gets a new pair of socks because he didn’t have shoes, and eventually becomes an RA himself. Funny world.
Entry 231: The students on my floor have started playing a game called battle sh*ts. This worries me immeasurably.
Entry 312: Walking into my residence hall, I notice the remains of an oddly familiar looking couch scattered about the lawn outside the dorm – except it looks like it was hit by a mortar shell. I hope to the only God I have that my floor wasn’t responsible. I receive a text from one of my residents confirming that the couch is from our lounge; that the back was ripped off of said couch, and thrown out of an eleventh story window. It apparently almost struck a student, which undoubtedly would have killed him on impact. Lucky him, I guess.
Entry 235: While playing battle sh*ts, one of my residents attempts to best the other by climbing the bathroom stall walls, straddling about five feet over the toilet, and bomb dumping into the distant bowl below. This results in the stall wall collapsing outward, the resident blasting mid fall, spraying anal butter all over the floor, and cracking the toilet seat off of the toilet. The only thing I can say, upon revelation, is “Did you learn anything?”
Entry 347: I’m standing at the front desk and a resident falls to the ground and has a seizure. The on-duty desk clerk panics. She begins searching through some binder that she’s manifested looking for the number to call. I politely remind her that the number is “9-1-1.”
Entry 232: A drunk resident calls me the n-word as I attempt to coax him back to his room. It doesn’t offend me, but an Italian resident is driven to blind fury by the act and attempts to fight in my honor.
Entry 278: I’m responding to a noise-complaint, where it’s suspected that the resident making the noise is drinking. I knock gently, the door swings open, and the resident exclaims, loudly, “You got nothing on me!”
Entry 115: It was a good day.
Entry 309: The police are apparently on my floor. It seems they are looking for one of my residents who – and I’m quoting here – stole a car another residents car, drove it drunk to an on campus parking garage, and then pooped in the elevator of the parking garage in the middle of the day. I’m most confused why he didn’t use one of the infinite number of bathrooms located on our college campus.
Entry 262: A drunk resident explains his Theory of Giving a F**k to me at 3 o’clock in the morning and perhaps changes my perspective on life forever.
Entry 120: In training, I’m selected to host the suicide room – which is an exercise where I role play the scenario of a suicidal student coming to an RA with thoughts of ending it all. People wonder at the choice of me roleplaying the suicidal student because of my carefree/sarcastic disposition in life. A spectator is brought to tears by my rooms moving performance. I realize that I should’ve been an actor.
Once again, to be continued….