Gossip Column: The Women’s Bathroom

In a high-risk operative mission, a Rag reporter infiltrated Beta Theta Pi Fraternity’s 80s party and successfully gathered top-secret gossip from the women’s bathroom this past Saturday night. Stealthily breaking into the restroom at 11:47 PM, our reporter camouflaged herself by curling around a trashcan and groaning every few minutes for two hours.

The night was heavy with sweat, beer, and incoherent shrieks of “Oh my god, I LOVE this song!!!” The stage was set—and an indulgent display of stranger’s love and validation was about to commence.

A freshman girl was slumped against the wall, complaining to her friends in slurred words that she was too sweaty and gross for that guy with the pink neon shorts to hook up with her. Junior Leah Davis shrieked from the back of line and went up to hug the girl saying, “Oh my God, no, that’s crazy! Look how beautiful you are! You’re literally glowing! You don’t need that asshole if he can’t see all the amazingness you are! Anyone would be lucky to hook up with you; he should be on his hands and knees pleading!” The freshman girl looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears, and said, “No way, you are too sweet!” Davis grabbed her into a giant bear hug before the next stall opened and Davis slid in with seven others of the freshmen girl clique.

Around 12:38AM, oozing confidence and poise, senior Kari Lawrence strutted into the bathroom and cut three other girls to snag a stall. Vicious whispers erupted from the other dozen girls crowding the bathroom, “Who the fuck does she think she is?” and “I’ve been here for seven hours, sacrificed my first child for my place in line, and this chick walks in like she owns the place?!” It was a clear low point of the night, and it was hard to see if the women’s bathroom could recover from such a devastating blow. The stall opened a few minutes later and Lawrence emerged in shame. “I’m so so so sooooo sorry, you guys! But I’m about to hook up with this girl I’ve had a crush on for three years though, didn’t want any emergencies!” The room burst into a chorus of “awwww’s” and the crowd enveloped her in warm, welcoming arms.

It was a night full of tenderness, deep affection, and mild alcohol poisoning, fueled by empowered women and punch. To keep up the disguise, our reporter had to feign being blackout when a group of girls confronted her. She was immediately escorted from the party and tucked into bed at home, with a warm glass of milk, aspirin, a backpack so she wouldn’t vomit and choke, and a number to call in the morning to make sure she was okay.