Personal Narrative-Gender Stereotypes

As I headed down the rickety stairs into the basement I was immediately hit with the strong smell of frat boy mixed with alcohol. Sure, I’ve been to parties but those were high school parties and this was a college party. The two were different species of party. Any of my prior experience with college parties was through a television screen munching on a bowl of popcorn. But, compared to the frat houses in my film memory this one was far nastier. The mostly unfinished basement was dawned with hard concrete floors and filled with sweaty bodies clinging onto red cups.
* * * Even before we left for school we made promises that we would visit each other. Dana was stuck at home as a commuter while we were all heading off; she was particularly

Music filled our ears until we reached the last stop, our stop. Idalys was waiting for us at the bus stop for at least 30 minutes already because we might have told her a miscalculated arrival time. She was sending periodic pictures of a spider accompanying her inside the sketchy bus stop. When we finally got off the bus and saw her, all three of us sprinted toward each other in slow-mo movie fashion and collided into a hug. Sage was in the middle of an acapella performance that Idalys had to leave in order to come pick both of us up. As we walked toward their campus it was like Bethlehem was a slightly larger replica of our little village. I had heard about how hilly it was but I was not expecting the intense burn in my calves from walking uphill. I’d soon find out it got worse. Once there I was kind of taken aback, it was like, this is what a traditional college campus looks like. I only toured NYU, Fordham (Manhattan campus, so one building) and St. Johns, which were all urban campuses. The fall leaves scattered all across the ground and the brick buildings with vines growing up the sides was a complete change of