The Jungle Juice

by | Sep 25, 2016 | We Have Something To Say | 3 comments

Mina A Linfield was a first year (freshman) from upstate New Jersey. With a mix of Asian and Caucasian features, a flared Hispanic sway, a twenty-first century attachment to her cellular device, and a carelessness that comes with being a privileged eighteen-year-old, Mina strutted in ignorant purity.
It was New Student Orientation (NSO), and Mina found a group of girls just like her. A group of girls who felt pretty in push up bras and crop tops and thongs that peeked out from their booty shorts. A group of girls who perfected Shakira’s hips and were addicted to the party scene – the dancing aspect at least. Girls enabled by loving parents, but shielded from the horrors of the world. Well, minus the occasional MTV drama or DreamWorks plot twist.
The first day of NSO came to an end, and the night was full of potential. There were parties at the tennis house, the women’s soccer house, 1447 Main Street, and a couple of dorm throw downs. Mina and her crew were off “get lit.” They were going to party hop from the weakest to the most intense party.

The dorm throw downs were pretty lame. There were a couple of first years playing watered down beer pong to preserve their limited alcohol, so the squad hit the next move. The tennis house had a bit more alcohol, but the music was pretty bad. So the girls took a couple of shots and were on their way. They jumped and ran and cartwheeled and screamed all the way to the women’s soccer house. The women’s soccer house was lively. There were kegs galore. People were smoking, dancing, drinking, drugging, scheming and most definitely plotting. And by this time, the girls had a strong buzz going, but they were still grooving and thrusting and swaying. Beer in one hand, phone with Snapchat in the other. The girls were having a good time. But after a while, the masses began to move to the biggest party on campus, the party on 1447 Main Street.

The girls followed the crowds of people heading towards the off-campus party. People were lined up out of the front and back doors, hoping to squeeze their way in. But somehow, Mina and her friends made it through. The air was hot, humid, and heavy. Immediately, the girls were drenched in sweat contracted by maneuvering through the smoky and dim crevasses between rowdy college students. As they pioneered paths through the partiers, the girls were having the time of their lives. The rush, the heat, the intimacy, the music, the energy! They were college students, and they didn’t have a care in the world.

In the midst of all this excitement, the girls found their destination. There was a table in the middle of the main room surrounded by a weird mixture of boys and men. The girls made their way to the table and hopped on top. It seemed as if they saved their best and most promiscuous dance moves for their newfound stage. With beer in one hand and phone with Snapchat in the other, the girls were in their own world having a blast, but something changed.

Nothing changed for the girls, but the mix of boys and men were drawn to the girls on the table. The smooth and sexy girls caught their attention like the smell of blood among sharks. One of the boys got on the table and danced with the girls, and they were fine with that. But that turned the party into a battleground. The boys and men shoved and rioted, fighting for a spot on the table, like dogs fighting for a piece of meat.

Out of the rough, something like a diamond, at least in Mina’s eyes, appeared. White guy, 6’1, dark brown hair, blue eyes, skinny, but toned. He looked like that guy from Teen Wolf or another MTV drama. He looked at her, through her. He analyzed her motions and her body language. After substantial observation, he held out a red solo cup and asked “do you want some jungle juice?”

The next morning, she woke up in a lounge across campus. Her body was aching and she couldn’t remember what happened to her or her friends or that boy with the jungle juice. She stumbled back to her dorm, trying to piece together her night, trying to piece herself together.