The Morning After: The Curse of the Green Shorts
It all started with lime green spandex shorts. I thought they were the perfect thing to wear to the Glow theme party. And the St. Patrick’s theme party. But those lime green spandex shorts really only spelled trouble for me.
The first time I wore them, I ended up leaving Crack House (yes, it is as disgusting as it sounds) with a junior with whom I bonded over our shared love of Natty Ice. Coincidentally, he had a ton of it in his apartment. The next morning, I woke up with a throbbing headache on a bottom bunk. I barely remembered the night before, except that I had gotten horribly sick in his bathroom. Not. Cute.
Eventually, after about an hour of me lying stock still next to him in his bed, he woke up and escorted me to the door. And then I realized I had no idea where I was or how to get back to my dorm. Reluctantly, he agreed to walk me part of the way. After he left me, I proceeded to finish the walk to my dorm alone, at 11:30, ass glowing neon green like a beacon.
You would think that would have been enough to teach me a lesson. The lesson being: leave the spandex at home. Unfortunately, this was not the case…
Months later, I decided the shorts were the perfect thing to wear to a St. Patrick’s day party. I wore them this time with tights and rain boots (a really bad call, as it turns out). The night started out fun, but after doing many, MANY shots, everything went black. I woke up the next morning next to a boy I barely remembered meeting. He was business-like about the whole thing, checking his email and playing his favorite Simon & Garfunkel song before asking where my clothes were. I pulled on my neon shorts, rain boots, and a borrowed t-shirt, thanked the boy for his hospitality and exited the scene.
As I walked into the hallway, the neighbor in the apartment across the hall walked out with her laundry basket.
“Oh!” she gasped, giving me a once-over. My face flushed.
“Just heading home,” I stammered.
“Oh honey,” she said. “Don’t end up in this apartment again. I remember that night when you ended up with that guy upstairs and now this one… They’re not nice guys.”
It was then that I realized: the lime green shorts had led me to the same apartment building. Again! What are the chances? It was like those neon booty shorts had special magnets that attracted only boys in Apartment S.
I thanked the neighbor for her concern and bolted out of the building. And if that little interaction weren’t bad enough, that walk of shame was even worse than the first. The tights/rain boots left me looking completely ridiculous… and it was snowing.
At least this time I learned my lesson and threw those shorts away as soon as I got home. If you have a pair, I suggest you do the same.