There’s been a disaster at every formal I’ve ever been to, but this one takes the prize. Each fall my sorority has its formal in Montreal and each fall we regret this decision. This fall I was in between fuckboys so I decided to just invite a friend from our closest fraternity. The problem was I was close with two of the guys and felt bad inviting one over the other. Solution? Invite them both! Why someone allowed me to do this, I will never understand. Such a terrible decision.
We drove across the border to the land of hockey and an 18+ drinking age. Our immediate first stop was the discount liquor store, because duh. My dates bought themselves their preferred bottles of alcohol: fireball and tequila. I thought I had a couple of keepers. I thought wrong. Things were about to get wild.
We checked into our hotel in Montreal. My two sisters brought one frat bro as their date and all six of us decided to squeeze into one hotel room. Another fabulous decision. All of us grabbed our respective bottles of liquor and began to pre-game and get ready for dinner. Now I know we all have different definitions of pre-gaming, but wow some of us were on completely different pages. My sisters and I made some harmless mixed drinks, in an attempt to get a good buzz. Two thirds of the dates followed our lead. Then there was Date #1. He believed his bottle of Fireball was a single serving. I saw him open it and take a few pulls. I went into the bathroom to put my face on. What couldn’t have been 30 minutes later, I came out to a very friendly Date #1 and a very empty bottle of Fireball.
This dude suddenly decided that we were gonna be the most PDA couple there. Having fewer than two drinks in me, I just wasn’t on the same level. I considerately played off his advances and socialized at least 10 feet away from him at all times. My friends and I had gotten changed and ready for whatever the night had planned for us. I stepped out to one of my sisters’ rooms down the hall to see their progress. I returned not 20 minutes later to the first disaster of the evening.
Date #1 had vomited EVERYWHERE. The bed was covered. His clothes were covered. Other clothes were covered. Certain parts of the floor were covered. I had an internal panic attack. Trying to stay calm, we safely put him to bed. Like, was it this guys first time drinking? You call yourself a frat bro? I grabbed Date #2 and headed to dinner. At this time, I was super thankful that I had brought two dates. How clutch! LOL, no, it wasn’t that easy.
Dinner went by flawlessly. Awards were given. I got something about being the house alcoholic again. So unoriginal. We headed back to the hotel to freshen up before we went to the club. Date #1 was still fast asleep. It was better that way. More drinking ensued and I was definitely past the point of a buzz. I was feeling great. We socialized between our hotel rooms. I had lost my date, but I wasn’t too concerned. I returned to my room to be delighted by disaster number two.
Date #2 decided it would be fun to throw the plant from our hotel room down the hall. The staff had found out and my room under my name was being charged $100. Ughhh. Whatever. I wasn’t gonna let it ruin my night. One of my dates or dad or someone would pay for it.
We went to the club and had a great time. I got separated from my date once again, but honestly I was better off vibing on my own. I could pick up some cute Canadian boy or something. I ended up reaching the point of blackout and well whatever happened seemed to be a good night. We all eventually ended up back at the hotel and woke up the next day with fun stories to share.
Despite all the events, I seemed to have a decently successful formal. We packed our things, left the hotel room in frat house condition (sorry housekeeping), and I went to check out. Que disaster number three, the grand prize winner.
As I returned the room keys to the front desk, I was confronted with the news. “Oh you’re checking out of Room 1038? Let me get my manager.” My heart sank. What was happening now? I was told that a member of my room had thrown a chair from the hall into our hotel room door. The chair was broken: $600. The door was broken: $2,400. “Your card will be charged the fines within the next couple of days.” What. NO no. My poor college bank account did not have those funds.
I rode back to the states on the verge of tears the entire time. No one had admitted to the damages. My ass was on the line for something I had nothing to do with. How was it that I had been perfectly well behaved this whole time, yet surround by animals? This was my luck. I did what any desperate, scared sorority girl would’ve done: called daddy.
After three weeks of deliberation with hotel managers and bank representatives and even difficulties with a language barrier, my father had gotten the charges dropped. I don’t know how he does it. A few days after the incident, Date #2 admitted to the crime. He was in a drunken rage and said it seemed like the right thing to do. I guess he forgot he wasn’t in his scummy frat house, just a very expensive Montreal hotel. Nbd. Needless to say, that was the last formal I invited 2 dates. Sadly, it wasn’t the last formal I invited Date #1 to. I don’t learn lessons very well..
Nice Move670
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Blackout_B
Blackout_B (@b_m4rie) enjoys drinking beer by the gallon and making memories she'll never actually remember. When she isn't embarrassing herself by making out with randos on the dance floor, you can find her pretending it's normal to drink a glass of wine with breakfast every day. It's fun to sit down with her on Sunday mornings and hear how fucked up her weekend was.
@b_m4rie
@b_m4rie
