A day in the life of a Vanderbilt hangover
When all you want to do is turn down the sun and plant yourself in Fido’s
Nothing’s worse than waking up on a Friday morning and realizing you’re still going to be drunk for your 8am calc class.
The only variables you care about solving for at the moment are: who’s couch you woke up on, the location of your lost Commodore Card, and what the odds are that you’ll stumble upon an omelet in the next half hour.
You promised yourself that you’d go home after the pregame last night, skipping the bars completely. Technically you succeeded in avoiding bars…but the pregame conveniently turned into a Thursday night, Sig Chi banger.
Somehow you got a hold of the Fireball (conveniently boxed like Franzia) and slapped the bag until you mustered up the courage to dance on the dangerously slippery basement bar.
Elevated surfaces somehow always seem like a good idea after midnight.
Anyway, on this traumatic morning the sun is skillfully approaching any and every surface at the direct angle to perfectly bounce into your eyes, rendering you physically incapable surviving without sunglasses…which you’ve obviously been unable to locate.
The key to making it through the dreaded hangover, Advil combined with chugging inhumane amounts of water, is hardly possibly while simultaneously trying to understand the fundamental theorem of calculus.
You want nothing more than to dive back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and roll back into your happy place until the sun goes back down again.
Strategies involve not scheduling class before 10am, embracing brutally cold “wake-up” showers, keeping a case of water bottles and frozen pizza in your kitchen at all times, and making sure your sorority sisters force you to go home to your own room on school nights.
When all else fails, drink a beer on the way to class and sit by a friend who will either smack you every time you nod off to sleep or be the hero that you know he’ll be and give you a copy of his notes.