Morning After: The Loft of Terrors

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though most don’t involve a Harry Potter references?) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]
It was my first night of freshman year. After my parents finished helping me unpack and hugged me goodbye, I had only one thing on my mind: to get drunk that night. What can I say? I happen to attend one of the schools that consistently makes the Princeton Review’s list of biggest party schools every year (OU, Oh YEAH!) and I had high expectations for my first night out and about. Also, unlike my fellow freshmen, I knew some older kids from high school and had a solid invite to house party. Score.
In honor of the occasion, I insisted that my new roommate and I start the night by taking shots of 140 proof absinthe I’d smuggled back from Europe. Needless to say, we were both pretty trashed before we’d even left the dorm. Not that that fact stopped us from downing the endless cans of Keystone Light that were handed to us throughout the night.
As we left the party, trashed beyond all measures, myself already having broken my shoes, neither of us was looking forward to the trek home. Luckily, one of my guy friends from high school offered to walk us back. He claimed he wanted to make sure we got home safely, but he didn’t do much to help as I fell flat on my back in the middle of the sidewalk.
But it wasn’t until we got back to the dorm that the real trouble started.
During the move, my dad methodically set up my new loft bed so that my roommate and I would have more room in our absolutely tiny dorm room. I thought it was a great idea at the time….until I realized the difficulty in climbing into bed after a few (or far more than a few) cocktails.
Flash forward to my roommate pushing my butt up the ladder as I grabbed the frame of my bed to pull my drunk ass up. I didn’t know at the time, but the frame wasn’t secured to the loft, just heavy and set on top of it with the mattress on it. I somehow managed to dislodge it and the entire loft came crashing down on us. Instead of freaking out/calling for help/doing anything at all, my roommate simply got into her own bed as I tried, by myself, to push my loft back to a point where I could sleep on it.
Eventually I gave up, pulled my blankets onto the ground and made a nest for myself. The next morning, after waking up and reliving the entire evening via my roommate’s hazy memory, we got a few boys from the hall to help us put the loft back together. (Great ice breaker!) Then I spent the next few weeks working tirelessly to master the art of getting into that loft while drunk. It took some time and a few more late night spills, but I finally got the hang of it sometime near Thanksgiving.
Looking back, it’s hard to believe 1) that this all happened on my first night of college, 2) that I survived my night of college, and 3) that my roommate and I actually became best friends. But it did, I did and we did. And for that, I. love. college.
[A special thanks to our anonymous reader for submitting this hilarious and horrifying tale. Want more? Check out our other cringe-worthy Morning After stories.]

Saturday Read: Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters by Natalie Standiford
Saturday Read: Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters by Natalie Standiford
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