Friday, March 31, 2006

The Suitcase Incident

My friends’ freshman dorm room looked like a tornado stormed through, spitting up not only clothes and shoes, but a TV, microwave, toaster oven, and even a suicidal fish (excavated days later). If the National Weather Service had to publish a report on the conditions of 640 O’Shag, they would probably refer to weather systems as Tornado Katie.

I’d never met anyone with more bathing suits, tube tops, halter tops, colorful preppy pants, and in general, random crap than Katie. She had a serious online shopping habit that was with fueled her mom’s credit card number, which she had memorized. So when Katie was packing her suitcase for a weekend in Texas, I wasn’t surprised by the size, it was as large as the suitcase I would eventually I take for a semester in Italy. The size the salesman said was for a family and was too big for me.

Katie arrived in time for the 6th floor of O’Shag’s Sunday night procrastination ritual, and we had packed ourselves on the futon between Katie and Sable’s lofts for the Texas trip details.

Although, Katie had gone to see a pseudo-boyfriend, I couldn’t help, but ask, “How much of that stuff did you actually use?”

“I needed options!”

“Like three purses? Did you actually wear all those shoes?”


“I bet I could fit in that suitcase!”

I did. And Katie zipped me up.

“Leave a little room for air,” said Jackie with a laugh. At lease I thought it was Jackie, but I had become a little disoriented, not being able to see what was going on around me, and yet a new-found confidence had surfaced.

Next thing I know Katie is wheeling me down the hall, howling with laughter as I wave to my hallmates. And she parked me in front of RA Steph’s door.

“Hey! Check this out Steph!”

“Hiii!” I said with a wave. I always enjoyed her reaction to our crazy antics, she obviously enjoyed them while telling us we were idiots, which made me feel pretty cool.

“Oh my god! What are you guys doing? Who’s in there?” she said.

“It’s Bridget!”

Being a practical jokester Katie thought we should mess with the 5th floor boys, so about ten girls, RA Steph even joined in, followed the suitcase in the elevator. Katie parked me in front of Dan and Nate’s door and the girls hid around the corner trying to keep their composure, I would only hear stifled giggles as I knocked on the door. Of course, the buggers weren’t there.

I was feeling brave. I was concealed. “Put me in front of some random door!”

Next stop: study-lounge-turned-dorm-room.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No answer.

I wasn’t going to take no for answer. I didn’t care if this guy was in the middle of beating his best score on his PS2, making out with his girlfriend, or wacking off, we were going to have a conversation. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Uh?” that’s all he could manage to say to the waving hand from the big black suitcase.

“Oh hello!” I perked up, “How are you doing this fine evening?”

“OK. Do you need some help?”

“Oh no.”

“I’ll unzip you.” Abort. Abort. Ceasefire.

“NO! No, just go back inside. And shut the door.” I said. And when I didn’t hear him move. “Now!”

I wondered if he was cute and that if he hadn’t been making out and he was cute, would he have made out with me? I was being wheeled again.

“Heeeey RA Dan,” said the girls. I waved.

The butthead grabbed the suitcase from Katie (at least I think it was Katie) and wheeled me into the boys’ bathroom.

“AAAAAAAH! Get me out of here right now!”

“Let’s go into the shower.”

Getting into the shower stalls involved going over a painful bump. I could hear my friends’ laughter. Assholes. Then he parked me. I cringed, waiting for Dan to turn on the water. If he did I would have to find a way to unzip myself and run out of the bathroom barefoot. Oh the fungus! The athlete’s foot! And that was just the beginning, in a college dorm at Virginia Tech, remnants of virtually anything gross and disgusting could probably be found on the bathroom floor of a boys’ bathroom.
By the grace of the dorm gods, Dan either didn’t think of turning on the showers or he knew that if he did, Katie would drop kick his ass to Wednesday and he would have to watch his back for the rest of the year.

Then, we head to the lobby because everyone decided it would be really funny for someone to get on the elevator with me in the suitcase.

Cucooned inside the suitcase, inside the elevator on the first floor of O’Shag I was imagining my friends strategically positioned around the lobby pretending nothing was going on. Of course, who walks in, but Dan and Nate. When the elevator door opened, the suitcase fell over. Thud. Then a simultaneous gasp, squeal, ohmygod and as the elevator door closed, shrieks.

“Aw, fuck.” Luckily, I didn’t go anywhere.

Once I was rescued from going nowhere Katie unzipped me and expectantly looked at me as if I was suppose to get out. But it was Sunday night, I thought about the peeing, the puking, I had heard that went on in this very elevator very weekend.

“ Zip me back up. I’m not touching this elevator with bare feet!”


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