I have a nice job on campus. It works around my schedule and gives me a decent amount of hours. They even let me do my homework while I sit at my desk. So, when they ask me to come in on a weekend once every other month, I don't complain and I try my damnedest to make it on time. Meanwhile, life tries its damnedest to make me late.
I was already having issues falling asleep. I needed to be out the door at 7am and it was roughly 1:30am when I lost consciousness. It was 3am when my dorm door came swinging open and my entire hallway came pouring in, my roommate Nicki hoisted up onto their shoulders. Seriously?!
Two of Nicki's cohorts shoo everyone out of the room and flip the lights on while Nicki begins screaming something at the top of her lungs in Spanish. I took French in high school, so none of this even remotely makes sense to my sleepless brain. Only once everyone is out of the room do the cohorts realize that I'm on the top bunk, half awake and very grumpy. They begin to explain the situation - Miss Minaj went to a house party, got herself fall-down drunk and worked up over something stupid. Then, Nicki did what Nicki does any time shes drunk: she began crying inconsolably.
When the group finally managed to call a taxi and get her out of the party, they somehow smuggled her past the cop at the front desk at which point she broke away toward the bathroom. Thing 1 and Thing 2 let her alone for a while, but when they realized their fearless leader had been a gone a good 15 minutes, they decided to go check on her. She was found passed out on the bathroom floor, apparently without ever having done her business. Thing 2 was forced to crawl under, unlock the door, and carry out the Nicki we see now - a hysterical, screaming, Mexican train wreck who keeps screaming one Spanish phrase on repeat at the top of her lungs.
As I lay on the top bunk, my head between two pillows quietly contemplating smothering myself, Things 1 and 2 try to soothe the Chupacabra below. This is no easy feat. The more they try to calm her, the louder she yells and the more violently she begins rocking, threatening to eventually roll off the bed and onto the floor. It's at this point that our RA, Crush (ever seen Finding Nemo?), comes to the rescue. Kind of.
Crush tried to calm things down a little more, but nothing is really working. Nicki begins hyperventilating and actually stopps breathing at one point. Crush wants to be the cool RA and doesn't want to send her to the hospital but, truth be told, she actually started to worry me at this point. However, no one is getting anywhere because only one person in the room understands Spanish aside from Nicki. That person isn't Crush. As Nicki begins to yell at Crush in Spanish, Crush begins to yell back in German as some form of retaliation.
The time is now 2am. Thing 1 has finally decided to translate for Nicki who is completely incapable of English. We're not really sure why she lost mastery over her first language, but she did. Regardless, we're now told that the mystery phrase she's been shouting for a half hour straight is, drum roll please: "I need to go to the bathroom". Gee! Imagine that! You yanked her out of the bathroom after she told you she needed to pee, never accomplished her goal, and she still has a full bladder!
Crush tries to help her up to get her to the bathroom, but Nicki wrongly believes she is still capable of basic motor function.
"No!" she slurs in the first bit of English I've heard out of her in over an hour. "I've got it!". Of course you do. She takes one step away from Crush, the only thing supporting her, runs into a wardrobe and cracks her head off the floor. Great. Now my roommate's dead. Wait, what am I saying? That IS great
Ah, but drunks are a surprisingly resilient bunch. To my dismay she picks herself up, brushes herself off, and allows Crush to all but carry her into the bathroom. She returns victoriously, still being carried by Crush. However, when she recognizes her dorm room, she breaks free from Crush, once again convinced she's capable of more than babbling incoherently. She proves this point by abruptly falling and cracking her head off the desk this time, landing with her head against the chair.
I now see what's coming, but the rest of the room seems oblivious because no one is rushing to her aid. You see, we have those chairs most dorms have that rock back when the weight is placed off center. She has landed in a slumped position sure to knock the chair back at any second. And, sure enough, the chair rocks back causing her to crack her head off the floor. Again. I am told that I am a bad person for laughing at this.
Things 1 and 2 and Crush each take a section of her body and hoist her back into her bed. Crush calls it a night saying we're on our own and leaves, suggesting Things 1 and 2 try to get Nicki out of her jeans and clubbing shirt. She seemed to be doing the toddler's "I'm uncomfortable" dance. When the door shut, they got to work.
It's now 4am and I have just witnessed Thing 1 getting kicked in the stomach and Thing 2 being punched in the face by Miss Minaj. This has been one of the most satisfying moments of the night. She has finally started to sober up, I think, because she has also spit out her second English sentence of the night: "Get the fuck away from me you stupid bitch"! Ah, music to my ears. If I'm going to be kept up by anything, please let it be the sounds of my roommate drunkenly attacking her own friends.
Things 1 and 2 gave up on changing her shortly after this. Nicki began rambling in Spanish at this point, which none of us could understand, and I tried to go back to sleep. Around 5am she decided that the only way she would be alright is if she spent the night in Crush's room. Happily, we shooed her out.
I woke up at 7:15 the next day to Nicki pounding on my door, looking for aspirin. If it hadn't been for her, I might have slept the whole way through work. I guess I can be thankful for that.
