The Ranch

Wednesday night is a wasted night on campus. My flatmates, or at least the three of us that weren’t expressly invited anyplace, creeped around 39 and 57 before landing up at 39, where we were welcomed warmly, and played the following game:

We didn’t want to stop, but we had to go to “The Ranch” for “Hump Day.” My new and slightly less new Aussie pals and I piled into a tiny shuttle, sitting on one another’s laps and singing songs.

Sandra lost her phone, so those of us who were not wasted (3/22) had everyone quiet down and look for it. By the time we got to The Ranch the Nokia was still lost, and I was scolded: “M you have to stop dancing for one fucking moment, we have to find my phone!” – Someone else cheered: “Never stop dancing!”

I was a sucker and paid $4 for a nasty cocktail. I learned last time to wear ear plugs when around Candice and dance floors, and was not sorry about having learned my lesson. The two of us like to be the first ones on the dinky platform stages that abound and everyone else around spills vodka on my left sleeve.

I had had enough fun by 11:00 pm, and was walking out when I saw my new friend Sophie in line for the bar. She invited me to chat outside, and introduced me to her cool looking friend who made eye contact like he knew what I knew, and it was our secret.

As I waited to order a beer I thought about how much $5 is and how I could be studying for the GRE.

My previously mentioned umbrella-friend was offering to buy me a beer when Candice cut in line with some sort of golden ticket. I took this as my opportunity to sneak away and left to wait for the giant shuttle to take me back home.

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