Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • It’s been three weeks since the start of the semester, and I’ve yet to attend a party. I wanted to stray from the typical get together with the gang and experience the stereotypical college party. At this moment Sam called, telling me to meet them at The View.

    The five of us sat in the lobby waiting for Sam’s friend to let us up to the apartment, I overheard a conversation. “You are the biggest fuckboy I have ever met. How could you lock my keys in the door!” The unsettling conversation left me anxious to get upstairs. Fifteen minutes passed. Charlene saw my annoyed expression and asked Sam, “Umm… where is Manny?”

    Sam replied, “He is not picking up his phone. I’m sorry guys.”

    The attention of the suspicious desk clerk shifted towards the new figure that walked in. “If you live here you can go right up, if you don’t, policy says that you need a resident to sign you in.” As the figure turned around, I instantly recognized his face, but couldn’t remember his name.

    Despite that, I asked him to help us get upstairs. He said he could help, as long as everyone had their ID’s. I then heard Charlene whisper, “What the hell Brianna. You told me you had your ID with you!”

    Now we had to figure out how to get her past the clerk. While the clerk’s attention was focused on us arguing, Brianna slowly walked past and met us on the twelfth floor. Now upstairs, the song Will to Believe by Clearance Clarity was stuck in my head:

    “And the heart can't always feel it
    But the head can always dream it”

    The hostile interaction in the lobby, followed by the strenuous task of getting past the desk clerk weighed on me. The vibrant red walls of the halls added to the uneasiness that I felt, nonetheless I continued to our destination.

    1213. We’ve been through so much trouble just to reach this room. After knocking several times, a weary-eyed woman opened the door. A loud voice uttered in the background, “Who the hell opened the door?”

    To my surprise, it was the man from the lobby who called someone a fuckboy. Refusing to let anyone more guys in, my friend tried to reason with him, while I simply walked past. I stepped foot into this musty, packed apartment, and made way to the nearest couch. This couch became my haven, however I was faced with sweaty dry humping, PDA with strangers, and the emptiness in everyone’s eyes. Time was at a standstill, the humidity from the air crept onto my glasses. The door opened again, however no one was allowed in. Angered, the ladies at the door started swinging. I watched in shock, but I was amused by the complete absurdity. This was our cue to leave. We went back to Sam’s place and laughed over the events that just occurred, agreeing to never stress over a college party again.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.