What I Really Learned in College...

World’s Worst Volume III: The World’s Worst Crank Call

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please, do get excited for the next, pulse-pounding installment of “THE WORLD’S WORST!”

The World’s Worst Crank Call:

During my senior year of college, I received an incredibly disturbing phone call deep in the night that made me reevaluate my entire existence. This is that story.

One chilly night in the beginning of October, I was hanging out with a bunch of friends. We’d gotten pretty drunk the night before and then decided it would be a brilliant idea to go swimming. It was probably around 40 degrees. Clearly our drunkenly brilliant ideas don’t translate over.

Anyways, we were hanging out, still wet, for a while afterwards and around 330 in the morning, my phone rang. It was a blocked number, but in my still semi-inebriated state, I figured if it was a 330am call, it was important. I answered and a gruff, no-nonsense male voice asked me if I was myself. He used my full name. My immediate thought was that someone had put me down as their emergency contact and had been admitted to the hospital. Why else would an official-sounding person be phoning during the witching hour?

“Pregamers Anonymous” Or “Friends Don’t Let Friends Drink and Date”

What I Learned: Everyone has different ways of dealing with nerves.

The Story: During my senior year of college, while home on spring break, I was hanging out with a good friend of mine, Dave, at a local townie hangout pub on an unassuming Monday night. We were catching up, eating wings, drinking cheap beer and listening to wasted, middle aged townies sing Billy Idol on the karaoke machine.

A bunch of his friends showed up (most of my friends were not on spring break, meaning they were still away at their various schools, leaving me to hang out with Dave) and we all hung out for a while. After many hours of revelry, I went to leave and was instead, stopped by a rather large, imposing friend of Dave’s. He introduced himself to me and immediately said, “wow, you’re beautiful.”

Hang on. On a really, really good day I might be described as “pretty.” So, it was clear to me that this man was addled.

“The Fungus Among Us” Or “Kitchen Nightmares”

What I Learned: Always trust your senses.

The Story: During my freshman year of college, two other unassuming girls and myself were thrust into what was referred to as a “forced triple.” On the most basic level, it was a room built for two people in which they had squeezed three (on account of over-accepting students and not having an appropriate number of rooms in which to accommodate them.) So, in order to survive under the less-than-comfortable circumstances, we’d rented a pretty expensive bed-loft from the university for one of the girls and bunked the other two beds. Unfortunately, my bed was on the top bunk, and there was no way to climb up to it, so my brothers and my father spent over an hour in the Lowe’s parking lot building a ladder out of PVC pipe. But that’s not this story, that’s another story.

“Nothing Good Happens After 4 a.m.” Or “No Sleep ‘Till Wappingers Falls”

What I learned: Simply put, nothing good happens after 4 a.m. and some tricks to help you pull a successful all-nighter.

The Story: So, the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, I decided to re-read the entire Harry Potter book series for like the fifth time. I was reading book 4 (clearly not a book you can stop reading to go to sleep) deep into the night, wanting to finish it before I called it a night. Clearly, this meant I was up until well after 4a.m. Just as I lay my head on the pillow and began my descent into unconscious bliss, my phone screeched to life. It was my best friend in the entire world. I had to answer.

“Ring, Ring, Ring… Ironyphone!” Or “The calls were coming from inside the house.”

What I Learned: Even when you’re absolutely positive that two things line up, correlation still does not imply causation.

The Story: During my fall semester senior year of college, one of my girlfriends was in a script writing class. At the end of the semester, out of the 12 or so people in the class, her one-act script was chosen to be performed in a one-act festival. This is all relevant because she asked me to perform in her show. I was to play an angsty Columbian girl with an overprotective sister. But that’s not important right now.

World’s Worst Volume II: The World’s Worst Show Night

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please, do get excited for the next, pulse-pounding installment of “THE WORLD’S WORST!”

The World’s Worst Show Night:

During my sophomore year of college, I was in a production of “The Spectre Bridegroom,” a gothic comedy about mistaken identity and a wedding. But that’s not important. What is important is that I was given the lead: the matronly head-of-household with a huge stick up her ass. Sounds about right, right?

Well, at any rate, on the night of our Thursday performance (we’d already run three shows about as successfully as a show like this could be run) about five minutes to curtain, my costume (a red, velvet dress with a white, pleated bodice that gave the unfortunate illusion that I had torpedo nipples) lovingly nicknamed “Big Bertha,” decided to rip all the way up one side. Panicked, I asked one of the costumers on hand to help me sew it back up, or, more simply, to pin me into it. Working as quickly as humanly possible, I figured we were just going to make it.

Of course, I was wrong.

“There’s no Such Thing as Too Far” Or “We May Have Gone Too Far”

What I Learned: Teamwork often pays off in hilarity.

The Story: During the spring of my sophomore year of college, I’d become really close with a freshman named Jared who quickly assimilated into our circle of friends. One weekend, our mutual friend, Keith, had to go home for a dentist’s appointment on Friday and his parents were unable to return him to campus until the following Sunday. You see, this was unacceptable because there was a HUGE party on Saturday night. So, Jared and I took the initiative on Saturday morning to go on a field trip to surprise kidnap Keith from his hometown in NJ and bring him back to campus in time for the raucous party.

“I Said, No, No, No.” Or “In-patient Patience”

What I Learned: Kindness can come from unscrupulous characters.

The Story: When I was a sophomore in college, I unwittingly enrolled in a class that met on our satellite campus, in the not-too-nearby city of Wilmington. My first excursion to the class included a three-hour long bus experience and a ten block walk. When I arrived, there were maybe eight other people in the class. Now, I know that when you enter a room with people in it, you unconsciously scan the room and naturally pick out the most attractive people. My eyes came to rest on a delightfully handsome manboy. I probably stared at him for a while. He was tall and built and had a big tattoo on one arm. I liked him.

“It Was the Best of Times it Was the Worst of Times” Or “Who You Gonna Call?”

What I Learned: The people who stick with you through the tough stuff are the ones who matter.

The Story: When I was a freshman in college, I was very opposed to drinking. My eyes were opening to accepting others who wanted to indulge, but I, myself, was very turned off to the idea. I didn’t understand the allure to getting so drunk that you couldn’t control yourself (of course, now that I’m older and more mature, I totally see the allure) and then probably puking or passing out, or engaging in some activity that you’d be upset about the following morning. So, I abstained from it all of the time.

In fact, I was so into taking care of the people in my hallway when they were drunk and stupid, I’d earned the nickname “mom.” It was awesome. I took care of all the people I loved, and I didn’t need a single person to look out for me. I was really on top.

Then, of course, during the spring semester, I became an asshole.

“Everything You Once Knew Is Wrong” Or “Here, My Logic Fails Me”

What I Learned: Everybody goes at their own pace.

The Story: In the fall of my junior year, I’d promised myself a full semester of no boys. I was going to be living for myself and keeping the ridiculousness they bring out of my life. Fall ‘10 was about me me me. All the time me. So I’d made a bet with one of my close friends that I could reject more boys than she could hook up with. We kept a tally. The final score, Me: 23 Her: 25. It was close. But that’s not this story, that’s another story.