I woke up on Monday with my blog plans for the week all laid out. I had a fun story, an outfit post, and a couple other things I wanted to accomplish this week.
Instead, life kind of laughed in my (but mostly Mr. RH's) face and instead I've been running around like a mad woman. However, this post just couldn't wait any longer.
Approximately 1000 years ago, during my Q&A posts this summer, I promised I'd revisit the story of how I puked while working the front desk of my dorm during graduation week.
So, it was my junior year in college. I attended a private women's college in northern Indiana... and let's just say that wasn't cheap. To help offset the expenses of college, I signed up to be a Resident Advisor during my sophomore and junior years of college.
To say it was a tough job would be understating it a little. We dealt with ALL kinds of random incidents. I'll never forget when a girl (not my resident) forced her roommate to move out because she claimed that the roommate (who was of a different ethnic group) smelled bad. And I went and investigated and there was ZERO smell. Seeing hate like that displayed by someone who is "like you" left a mark on me.
And then there was the other end of the spectrum - getting a 3 am knock on your door by your BFF RA telling you that your resident (a freshman) is vomiting up blood (and booze) during a snowstorm and that a fire truck is coming to get her and will you help get her to the elevator.
Needless to say, I grew up a lot (and learned a lot) and made a lot of very good friends during the process. It was nice to make friends outside of my normal posse and even better to learn a little responsibility.
Most of the time, being a Resident Advisor was a breeze. I whipped up bulletin boards and Halloween decorations - it was a pretty sweet gig.
But I'll never forget this one night. We had just walked out of our Resident Advisor meeting and I was walking to the lobby to work an hour at the front desk. I am sitting there and a male walks in with a duffel bag. And not any bag. A huge, body-bag sized duffel.
And it was heavy. The guy was red-faced and looked like he was shaking under the weight of the bag. I watched as a girl from the first room on the floor came and retrieved him to her room. Within my eyeshot.
He drops the bag on the floor and it's 100% clear that it's a duffel bag FULL of cans. And I doubt they were Coke cans.
My fellow RA came by on her rounds and I told her what had just happened. I should have confronted him in the moment... but I just couldn't. So, my friend, who is much braver and wiser than I am, up and knocks on the door.
"Hi, it's the RA on call. Can you open your door?"
Door opens. "Yeah?"
"Um, I believe someone just brought a bunch of alcohol into this room. Do you know anything about that?"
"So, what's in the duffel bag?"
"No, it's beer."
"Ok, can you open the bag for me?"
A minute later, my RA friend emerges with the duffel bag. I am hysterical with giggles and I can't figure out what the heck we are going to do with the damn bag full of beer.
We put the bag in the hall director's office where it sits for the next 4 months.
Oh, to be 21 and young again. How carefree and happy that girl was.
I wouldn't trade those memories for all the gold in the world.
And that, my friends, is how some badass RA's get it done.
Admit it, you're impressed.