It was an innocent Monday night when my friend and I decided we wanted to go out. Spring break had just finished, and we weren’t quite sober yet, so we grabbed our water bottles of vodka and headed out on a school night because, college.
We went to our favorite fraternity where all of our best guy friends lived. The drinks were already flowing and the BACs were already skyrocketing as we realized we had some catching up to do. We chugged the rest of our alcohol and decided that it was time to put our rage faces on. The night began with a variety of drinking games, something that isn’t exactly my strong suit. Rage cage, beer pong, flip cup — it didn’t matter the game because guess who lost? Me. Already a little drunk from being put in the cage, being on the losing team, and being unable to flip a single damn cup, I was slowly but surely getting fucked up.
I could feel my eyes getting heavy and my cheeks feel warmer, I knew I was well on my way to having a great post-spring break.
Somehow, about an hour later, I ended up with tequila in my hand and my feet on a table. The inner frat boy in me decided to take the handle and chug. Thanks to the name chants and alcohol high, I followed that with a shotgun and drinking more beer out of my own Sperry (in hindsight wow, how appropriate of shoe choice). Disgusting, I know. But this night, I was that person. And at this point, I clearly had to break the seal.
I stumble to the bathroom, a place so familiar to me I can (and have) maneuvered it in the dark. Upon entering, I vaguely realize that the floor is already wet. It’s a fraternity bathroom, I drunken think to myself, of course it’s disgusting. I start to pull up my now-extremely-tight jeans, due to all the bloating from the alcohol (or that’s just what I like to tell myself), and I feel the Earth shake on its axis. In slow motion, I feel my center of gravity waver as I slip back into the toilet. BAM. I glance around hazily, wondering what that crash was. I take in the gushing water, chunks of porcelain and pipes sticking out and that’s when I realize — I just broke a toilet. In a fraternity house. During a giant party.
Water is gushing everywhere and I just start to make a strange noise, some sort of mixture between a laugh and a cry. I watch as water floods the room and starts to trickles down the stairs. Fuuuuck. I grab a handful of paper towels and toss them on to the steady stream of water that’s getting dangerously high. I drunkenly giggle to myself at how ridiculous my paper towels look in comparison to the tsunami that’s happening. I rush out of the bathroom and run smack into my best friend, who sprinted up the stairs when she heard me scream. I tried to explain how I had flooded the bathroom/house through my shock as her face turned from fear to hysterics.
The rest is a blur. But the next morning was very eye-opening after realizing what had happened. When I woke up to an influx of texts from the fraternity, I knew that something horrible had happened. I scrolled through the messages as a painful realization hit me. I had texted my guy friends apologizing over and over again for the damage my drunken-self had caused. Luckily they thought it was pretty funny and just kept laughing at me despite their ruined toilet. As the assured me for the hundredth not to worry because we were “making memories,” I finally started to relax. But surprise! A week later I got a text that read,
“Yo we got the bill for the toilet and it’s $220.”
So I marched to the ATM, withdrew $220, walked to their house, and handed it to them with a smile on my face. And that’s when I officially became a broke college student with alcohol limits..