Okay, I have a new favorite college memory.
So my roommate and I are sitting in our room innocently when suddenly, as it always is at 11pm during finals week, we hear the loudest sex we have so far heard in a college dormitory. We stare at each other in alarm for several seconds before she finally screams at me “RACHEL, PUT ON MUSIC.” (My natural inclination is, of course, to put on Shoop.)
We assume it’s our next-door-neighbor and we decide to text her when they’re finished, saying “Heyyyyy, whatcha doiiiinn?” She responds: “Watching Tangled.”
“Oh really,” we say. “Yes,” replies she. “You can come over to check.”
So we sprint over to her room and (obviously) look for a dude in the closet, but it turns out she was literally watching Tangled.
“Oh,” we realize. “It was the upstairs neighbors. Okay.”
So, naturally, there was only one thing we could do.
And that thing was to hook my phone up to my bluetooth speaker, haul ass upstairs, and play Let’s Get It On at top volume while dancing up and down the hallway in front of their door.
Then we left, applauding their brief but valiant effort.