Nicole Reither is a senior graduating in May with a degree in Communication and a certificate in Public Relations. Like Tasha Adams, she is also terrified of graduating–missing out on free food at the BRC, student tickets to events and the luxury of the free gym. “The undaunted undergrads” is an account of working through last-semester fears and getting the most out of the
After a week of a lack of motivation all I wanted was the weekend. With graduation tickets already going out for reservation, my need and want to be a freshman again was at an all-time high. So what better way to relive this time in my life than to throw a house party?
As the night approached we realized how small our house really was. We spent the evening moving furniture around so we all wouldn’t be breathing down one another’s necks.
Friends slowly but surely began to pile into our small three-bedroom house. With the crowd growing I ended up finding people standing in the bathroom just off the kitchen because it was the only space left. However, as the night got darker and the drinks got heavier, the need for more space didn’t seem to matter anymore.
My roommate’s pet snake, JoJo, was out to play and I caught one guy crawling around in our attic.
With the music blaring Usher’s Confessions, the obvious choice for this throwback party, I looked around the house and realized everyone should continue to experience house parties until it is absolutely necessary to grow up.
The one good thing about throwing a party at your own house is you can change into sweats at any time in the night. Which I did around 2 a.m., in hopes for the few lingerers to take the hint.
It wasn’t until 4 a.m. when I went into my room and crawled into bed. Which had clearly been confused for the trashcan as I found about seven crushed beer cans snuggled up against my pillows.
Waking up to the smell of Four Lokos and a sticky floor is exactly what you don’t want when you are hung over.
I suggest if you haven’t house partied in a while to take the plunge, blare some music and cross your fingers that the police don’t show up.
Or hope they do since you happen to be old enough and this time you can show them your ID proudly unlike all the times you couldn’t when you actually were a freshman. Oh the joys.