People aren't going to tell you that they love going to a fraternity. Actually, I take that back. I'm sure some girls are going to, but we know who those girls are, and you can call them out from miles away. They're called "frat rats." I have literally spent the last two hours getting ready, and for what? A dark, loud and sweaty basement.
I finally arrive at the "frat." Let's call it Psi Tau Gamma, since the Greek symbols for those letters look like some distorted version of "WTF." I have to somehow find my way through the beer-drenched hallways to get to the party room. Normally, I would not complain about this, but it is definitely not easy navigating a frat house in five-inch heels.
Phew! Some of my sisters are already here, because I clearly cannot be seen alone. I scope out the scene for cute guys, but most importantly, the bar. All hail the bars made by pledges years and years ago! These are wooden bars painted to match the color of your basement with some fratty saying on them. Bless you, wooden bars, although you're covered in gallons of grape and peach Karkov.
Let's quickly discuss Karkov for a hot second. I'm not sure how it gets the job done, but it does, and if you ever dare to drink non-flavored, then bless your soul.
You have taken about three shots, let's say. Obviously, the shots are in small paper dixie cups with owls or flowers on them. That is real classy of you, Psi Tau Gamma. Not only is Karkov below par, but the chasers... come on. We are talking about the lowest level sodas. Red Fruit and Mist Soda. WTF. Sure, sure, I get it. These Tau Gammas do not have all the money in the world, but I'm just saying that some real Diet Coke would be nice.
I somehow make my way over to the "dance floor," which is really just some room that isn't taken up by elevated surfaces or bars. Oh god, some Tau Gammas are about to make their moves. If you're single, you think this is the best thing ever. You have been chosen! Go you. If you're not single, you immediately think it is creepy, even though it really isn't. I wiggle my way out of uncomfortable situations that discuss what my name is, where I am from and if I'm friends with someone in my chapter. Yes, I am clearly friends with them. And even if she isn't my best friend, I'm still going to tell you, "Oh my god, I love her!" regardless. My night winds down after many awkward encounters, elevated surfaces and the song "Throw It Up," because who doesn't get hyped for that song?
Now, I'm not saying that frats are the worst place on campus, because they aren't. Class is. But I still go to every frat party I can.
