1) You and your roommates decide you’re going to have a small get-together next Saturday night at your little cottage on Livingston. Just some beers before going to the bars with your old peer-advising group.
2) You text the three people whose numbers you have, and send a little Facebook message to the others.
3) You realize that no one sends Facebook messages anymore. Instead, you create a private event titled, “Freshmen Forum Nostalgia”. The picture attached is of you vomiting in a frat house toilet (Everyone remembers that night, right? Man, good times).
4) Three days pass and the only responses you’ve received are three people who are “Maybe Attending”. Fuck it then. You just bought a thirty rack; someone is going to have to drink that alcohol. You open the event to more people, start inviting your neighbors, your lab partner, your hook-up from sophomore year. Actually, cancel that last one. He/she got fat over the summer.
5) ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Eight are “Not Attending” and six people have written on the wall saying they’re going home this weekend. This thirty rack isn’t going to drink itself. You invite the kids from your group project in Psych, those grad students you met in Chucks that one time, those kids who friended you freshman year because you joined the “Syracuse University Class of 2012″ Facebook group, all of U100, the Ultimate Frisbee team, Brandon Triche, those frat guys who let you into their closed party on Halloween, and even the hook-up from sophomore
year. DEAR GOD, SOMEBODY SHOULD COME FOR FREE BEER!
6) You check Facebook and see that Syracuse University House Parties-Notifications has posted, “The cottage on Livingston is throwing down tonight! “Like’ this to spread the word!”
An ominous feeling starts rumbling in your stomach.
Saturday, 5 PM:
8) 16 people have liked that status.
Saturday, 9:45 PM:
7) All of Day Six Mafia (AKA Day Hall, Floor 6) knocks on your door, sober and cold. You let them in, because they seem normal enough.
Saturday, 10 PM:
8) The whole Quidditch team has shown up. Not riding on brooms, so you’re a little disappointed.
Saturday, 11 PM:
9) Nearly all of Brewster Hall is there, there’s a rugby player having sex with a sorority girl in your bedroom, and there is no alcohol to be found. You spot a blacked out junior trying to take a shot of nail polish remover.
Saturday, 11:30 PM:
10) DPS arrives and kicks out the herd. Your cottage is destroyed, but hey! Bitchin’ party, right?