Club 116 Part 1

Club 116: A True Story of College Life and Making Lifelong Friends at Bay Vista

Chapter 1 A New Life

My mother once told me, "the friends you make in college are the ones you will have for the rest of your life." Too bad she chose not to warn me about the unexpected situation that arose, making me not only leave college, but also leave all of those supposedly-"lasting forever" friends. They cannot last forever if you leave them, can they? But I guess that is what life is all about: throwing you situations that you just cannot or do not want to handle. I guess that is the reason we have memories, and one thing is inevitable: my memories from my few short months away at college and the memories of all the people I have encountered while being there will never be forgotten.
See, my mother was wise, but she was not… how do I put this nicely? She was not all there, not in the right state of mind, anyway. She had the right intentions I guess, but acted on them in all the wrong ways. Listen to me, I am talking about her in the past tense as if she were deceased, how wrong of me. She is alive; she just has chosen to disown me over the years of intolerable actions any young adolescent puts their parents through. Needless to say, she just could not deal with it. This is the situation that caused me to leave everything I had grown accustomed to, but that is not useful to you, at least not just yet.
I moved down with my mother from New York City to Coconut Creek, Florida in August of 2004. I was so happy to have left the noise and rudeness of the city; I had lived there my entire life and always wanted to move down to Florida. Astonishingly, my father in New York agreed to me leaving the state and letting me go, and for a while, I was happy. We lived in an apartment overlooking a lake with three spacious bedrooms, in which one was occupied by a roommate that moved back to New York, and then a new roommate who I established “too much of a bond with” according to my mother.
My mother’s new roommate and I became like close friends. I had never had a bond like that with my mother; we had always been like distant relatives. Because of the fact that I had such a strong bond with my mother’s new roommate, and the fact that the complex decided to turn the apartments into condominiums, we moved again. We only moved around the corner, however, to an apartment complex called “The Preserve,” into a two-bedroom apartment. The reason behind a two-bedroom apartment was so that my mother would not be able to have any other roommates. She was jealous, and thought that living with just me would help her to establish a bond with me. Too bad the move never helped to achieve that.
The day I received my acceptance letter for Florida International University in the mail, I was overwhelmed with astonishment and joy. I had finally done something right in my life; something that would finally make my mother proud of me for once. If only that pride had lasted forever.
Florida International University. It was my first choice school, and it sounded so good. Even though it was probably the only school I could have gotten into at the time, I was still besieged with excitement and bliss. I was going to be attending class and living on the spacious Biscayne Bay Campus, in what seemed to be a beautiful dormitory building by the bay called Bay Vista Housing, in North Miami Beach, Florida. It housed around 500 students within 4 floors, each having 5 wings, mine being on the F wing, room 316A.
The year I went away to college was probably my year to mature, draw away from my home life of living with my mother, obeying her rules, and not having to afford anything of my own besides a monthly, over-charged cellular phone bill. This was the year everything would change the most for me: mentality, home life, maturity, independence, and finally, I would be learning many of life’s lessons severely quick. This was my year, and I was determined to love it.

Chapter 2 Moving In

In August of 2005, after the hurricane passed, I was scheduled to move into my dormitory at college. The building was not how it was depicted on-line and in photographs. It was an unattractive pink and yellow building that desperately needed painting and an exterminator. It had two entrances, one facing the two academic buildings and the library, and the other facing the parking lot, underneath the second floor B wing. This entrance had two benches adjacent to garbage cans across from each other for the smokers. All of the wings in the building were outdoors, and each room had two windows, one facing outside and the other facing the hallway. Our room, however, was like an apartment. There were two bedrooms, separated by a full kitchen and a bathroom. Although it could have been better, it was not bad for all the money my parents were spending on housing.
The first couple weeks after moving in went by quick, and I met dozens of people along the way. My roommate was a Haitian, from Lantana, Florida, and her name was Vanessa. At first, we got along great. We were the best roommates in Bay Vista, or so we thought. Eventually that would change.
We went for a walk the first night, after we ordered and ate delivered pasta from a local Italian restaurant. We did not know how long the walk was to the main street, Biscayne Boulevard, but we walked it regardless. It was at least a two-mile walk from the dorms to the main street. We got to the gas station, bought some water, and decided we were definitely not walking the long road back in the dark. Since night had fallen, the path back to campus was shadowy and surrounded by woods. Vanessa, being a typical Floridian, was too afraid to walk back in that environment, so we decided to walk over to the Fire Department building and ask for a ride back, and they agreed to take us. I will never forget that night, riding back to Bay Vista Housing, on the first night in my new dorm, in a huge fire truck with the siren on.
Among the many people I met during this time, one of the first I met was Sam, a lifeguard and surfer from Orlando, Florida. He was Puerto Rican and wore his hat sideways, his sunglasses backwards, and his infamous O’Neill board shorts every single day. He had this funny little twitch; I guess you could call it that, where he turned his lip up like Elvis when he talked. Anyway, he was one of our first few friends, also, one of our first few friends with a car. We went to the beach late one night with him, and following that, we went to a Chinese restaurant. I remember pulling into the parking lot and glancing to the window only to see a giant rat standing in it. We still ate there anyway.
That night we went back to Sam’s room, and hung out for a while. This is exactly when he proved to us that he was a complete man-whore, whose goal was to have sex or get oral sex from every girl at Bay Vista, and that he was not as awesome of a person as we thought he was. I later learned that this aspect did not matter at all, and not to judge people like that. When you do judge someone in that sense, it is only because you have a certain feeling about yourself that somehow relates to your judgment. But right then, I had a certain form of spite and resentment towards him. We hung out a lot after that, and got pretty close with him, that is, until he made new male friends.
We went to the nude beach that was close by one day, in two cars, with a bunch of people. We headed over there and all of us refused to get naked. There were tons of old men, and the women that were there, were busy having sex on the beach with their guys. Sam stripped down while in the water, but as he headed out, he put his board shorts back on. That was quite an experience.
Around the time he started making new friends, I remember that he stopped talking to me.
“I wanna do things you don’t wanna do, so I don’t want to force you to do anything.” He told me.
“So you’re telling me that you don’t want to talk to me unless I wanna do something with you, then I can talk to you?” I replied.
“Pretty much.” He said.
“That’s fucked up.”
“When you want a friends with benefits, I’m always around.” He said.
At that time, I did not want to be a friends’ with benefits, but eventually I got used to the idea, and he started staying over, and I started staying over his room. We did not talk as much, but it made no difference.
About a week later, I was in my room multitasking, both desperately studying for my Chemistry class and dealing with relationship problems over the phone with my boyfriend back home who did not trust me because I was away at college. My roommate came in with her friend, Jessika. Jessika was from New York also, and she was Spanish, with curly brown hair. They practically forced me to come with them to this party on the first floor, room 116. A room I would later be spending the majority of my time in. Okay, maybe they didn’t force me, ha, but I did go hesitantly.

Chapter 3 Welcome To Club 116

First thing I remember thinking was that we did not know any of these people, or at least I did not know them, but I guess this was a decent way to get to know some people. We walked in and went directly to the fridge to grab some “pussy beer” (Smirnoff Ice), and sat down. Sam and his new friends arrived bringing more beer in a large black duffel bag. I silently watched them as they unloaded the beer into the refrigerator, while criticizing the way they were stacking the bottles and cans to myself. I figured, eh, what the hell, I learned to drink at an early age and I tolerate it well, so, at least I will fit in with the drinking.
Sam’s new male friends had replaced us within a few short weeks, and he seemed to be more of an asshole around these guys than he ever had been with us. I guess the company you choose to hang around with influences the person you are and the personality traits you possess. Sam’s three new friends did not seem too happy to meet us, or have us there at all, but my roommate and her friend seemed to be unaffected by this.
First there was Brendon, a white kid, apparently from New York, who spoke of himself as if he were conceited and arrogant. He was built and kind of short, and lived in room 115. He was pretty mean-natured and sarcastic, but seemed to fit in just fine with Sam.
Zack, a tall, redheaded, redneck from Lakeland, Florida wore his pants low to reveal his boxers. He was probably the friendliest to us being there, seeing how everyone else seemed to view us as un-welcomed. Then again, he was also the drunkest one there and the one who flirted the most too. He had a girlfriend back home named Olga, with whom he spoke Spanish to, and everyone else found that amusing.
Chico, or Oscar, as his real name was, was a short, curly-haired, Mexican who seemed to love his Coronas, and also loved to cook. His cooking was good, too. He downed maybe sixteen or seventeen Coronas that night and then disappeared to go play pool.
When I first met Stefan, another guy they spent a lot of time with, he seemed kind of uncanny when he was drunk. I did not like him too much to begin with, but he did have the best selection of music out of everyone that lived in Bay Vista. He was from Trinidad, always wore a hoodie, and had curly brown hair. He spent money like it was paper, and he was our DJ for all of our parties there after.
Buddy, which was his nickname, his real name being Elwood, well, he was quiet the first night, but I liked him from the beginning. His room was the room we partied in: 116. He was the calmest. He was a white kid, who wore football shirts everyday and his hat halfway on his head that left a line engraved through his hair. He was a country boy from Rhode Island, who listened to Eminem and Country music. I had no clue this guy with an awesomely comfortable black leather chair would one day be my best friend.
So we all sat and partied for a while, listening to music and downing beers. Somewhere in the midst, Buddy hit Zack in the eye with a slice of pizza, and caused a fight between the two of them, and as a result, Buddy wound up with a streak of pizza on his wall that is probably still stained there. Things got kind of hectic eventually, and everyone got pretty drunk. I think the only sober people there had been Buddy, Vanessa and I.
We passed around a white board, asking questions that everyone had to answer. Someone said something relating to gay people, and Sam wrote on it, “NO GAYS ALLOWED.” This caused controversy between Sam, Brendon, and Vanessa. Apparently Vanessa was Bi-Sexual, and I was uninformed of this. She was very protective of gay people and seemed to stick up for them entirely. Although I was shocked about her being bi-sexual, I did not let it bother me; those were her opinions and her choices. The other guys did not approve of this and argued it until she got mad enough to despise them all. This is what probably caused her hostility towards them in the future.
My boyfriend, which was now my ex boyfriend, called me about something that had happened the week before that I mentioned to him. He was threatening to drive down to Miami to kill someone because they tried to do something with me that I did not want to happen. I told him I could take care of myself and deal with things on my own.
“Let him come down here, I’ll beat that kid with a baseball bat.” Chico said, overhearing our conversation.
“Who’s coming down here?” Zack replied.
“Someone who wants to kill someone.” Chico answered.
“Oh shit, I wanna kill someone too!” Zack said.
I walked outside to avoid more drama being caused by me being in a room full of guys.
When I came back in, everyone was either arguing or singing and being foolish. Out of nowhere, Sam got out of his chair and grabbed the garbage can and took it to the front door to take a piss in it. That infuriated Buddy off more than anything. He kicked Sam out, only to eventually let him back in later. We never let Sam live down that incident. The one reason I despise drunken guys: They urinate anywhere, anytime.
Sometime while he was kicked out, Sam received a phone call from a girl he knew back home that was crying because she had gotten into an argument with her current boyfriend and hit him. However, Sam was drunk enough to hear that her boyfriend had hit her, instead of the other way around, and he wanted to drive to Orlando right then and there to go and kill the boyfriend.
Vanessa and I were trying to talk him out of it, because he could not even walk straight, let alone drive. Sam had been crawling around the floors of the hallway like a sniper in a war movie. His other so-called new “friends” were instigating the situation, saying they would go with him if he left now, and that he had to go. I have no idea what kind of friends Sam must have had that would let him drive in the state that he was in, where he would probably end up killing himself or another person, but that was beside the point. We talked him into going back up to his room, and we sat with him until he decided to go to sleep. It took hours. Hours of chasing him back to his room when he tried to leave. It was Buddy, Vanessa and I who walked him to his room, and that was where Sam said he was going inside to go to bed.
“We can’t just let him go inside and go to bed, he’s gonna wait for us to leave and then he’s gonna leave. We have to go with him.” I said, predicting Sam’s next action.
Buddy snapped back at me. “No he’s not. We’ll sit right there on those benches for a few minutes and see if he leaves. It’s already 4 A.M., I wanna go to sleep already.”
As I predicted, Sam ran out and down the hallway. As I was following Buddy and Vanessa as they chased him, Zack came out of nowhere.
“Hey, where did everybody go?”
“They all went to bed Zack, shhh.” I answered.
“Oh, O.K.”
We started walking over to where they had caught Sam, when Buddy saw Zack and screamed at me.
“What the fuck?! Are you stupid? Get him the hell away from here!”
“Geez, O.K. Fine.” I started walking away again, this time with Zack.
“Where are we going?” Zack asked me.
“We’re going for a walk.” I talked to him as if he were a little child.
“Ohhhhhh. Do we have to take the elevator?” He asked, sounding innocent.
“No.” We sat down at the benches on the fourth floor for a little while, until I couldn’t deal with Zack anymore. “Come on!”
“Where are we going?” He asked.
“We’re going to find me a cigarette.” I needed one badly, especially after the past few days’ events. So we headed downstairs for me to smoke, and Buddy came running down.
“Sam said he wants you in his room, that he’s not going to sleep unless you’re there and that if you don’t come up in five minutes, he’s leaving. So hurry up and finish smoking.” Buddy said.
“Ugh. Why me?”
So I went back to Sam’s room with Vanessa and Buddy, and sat there for what seemed like hours while Sam scared the shit out of us by playing with his knife, and then he decided to get up and entertain us with his musical skills. We all gave him credit for one thing that night: He could not stand straight, he could not concentrate, and probably could not see straight, but he played the keyboard better than anyone I have ever seen before, and he played it better that night being drunk than he ever did again.
Buddy eventually decided to go to sleep around six in the morning, and Vanessa pretended to leave, saying she would wait for me in Sam’s kitchen until he fell asleep.
I lay there, until Sam started breathing heavily and snoring, and slowly started to make my way out of bed and towards the door. Right then, Vanessa opened his bedroom door, which squeaked as it opened. He jumped up and got irate at the both of us.
“What the fuck?!” He screamed.
“It’s just Vanessa. It’s okay.” I answered, calmly.
“You lied to me. You said she left.” He was getting angry.
“She did leave, she’s just waiting for me.”
“No, You’re a fucking liar! I can’t trust either of you.” He rolled over and faced the other direction. I told Vanessa to forget it, there was no way I would be able to leave, so I eventually ended up falling asleep at Sam’s around 7 A.M. just hoping he would not wake up and puke on me.

Chapter 4 The Day After

The next morning, Vanessa and I decided to be nice and go clean Buddy’s room for him, since we partied there the night before. We knocked on his window and he flicked us off so we decided to go make breakfast for Sam, but he flicked us off too. So we killed some time until we partied again that night.
The every night partying continued like that for the rest of the semester, but each party had a different significant event in it, and with each party, I met more and more people.
Someone had video taped the first party I had gone to in room 116, and we all watched it the next day. I was shocked at myself, the quiet fake blonde sitting in the corner just observing. I looked irritated; I know I always do, but I am unsure why. I looked unsociable and introverted, and maybe that is the reason no one warmed up to me right away.
The more parties we had the more drama started, and I personally am like a male in that aspect, I hate dealing with drama. So most of the time, it was the six guys and I. One girl, six guys, is that not a great ratio? I did not care, I loved being the only girl, and when the Trinidadian (“Trini”) girls showed up, I was pretty exasperated.
Sonia, and her friend Daniella lived in the two rooms next door to me. They were both from Trinidad, and both seemed as if they had known each other for years. Daniella was as skinny as a rail, and everyone was convinced that she was anorexic.
Buddy came to my room the day after the first party, and we watched Beethoven and some old movies from the 1980’s together, like The Breakfast Club, and Sixteen Candles. The two Trini girls came in to see my roommate, and I just slammed the door shut. They were very loud and annoying, so I disliked them from the start and hated when they were in my room.
Buddy told me about how Sam took all of the guys to the nude beach after we had gone together. Sam had told them that he had no idea that it was a nude beach and that they went there on accident. I laughed.
Buddy had a roommate too; his name was Milen. Milen was from Bermuda and had a crazy accent that took getting used to. If you lived in Bay Vista and had never seen him before, you must never have left your room. You could find Milen anywhere, at any time, with his gapped teeth and his towel. Ha, he was seldom seen without just a towel on. He was proud of himself, and knew practically everyone on campus.
Time went on, and I developed bonds with all of these guys, Buddy the most. Buddy became my best friend in Bay Vista, and everyone always thought we were either sleeping together or dating because of how often they saw us together. Neither was true; but I did practically live in his room.
Stefan became my shopping and smoking buddy. We walked all of the way back from Wal-Mart one day after Thanksgiving because we had nothing better to do. Brendon and Sam were both my friends with benefits.
Sam came over one night, to mess around for a little bit, and he said something that made me think:
“You know you’re the best friends with benefits ever, Krystal?”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?” I asked
“Never mind.” He said
I thought about it for a little while, and figured it out.
“I got it!” I screamed when I realized it.
“What?” He asked.
“I’m the best friend with benefits ever because… I never say no…”
“Yup” He said with a big grin on his face.

Chapter 5 Just One of The Guys

Whenever we would have a party, the guys would tell me that they need some girls to show up to the parties. Me, being the selfish, attention-whore that I am, did not want to meet any new girls. Each and every time, our conversation would go a little something like this:
“We need to get some girls up in here man!” One of the guys would say.
“What the hell am I?” I replied.
“You’re not a girl, you’re just one of the guys.” Someone would say.
I hated how they thought of me like that; just one of the guys. I knew they did not think of me as anything more than a friend, it would just be nice to know that someone viewed me as a girl for once.
It entertained me the way the guys were too lazy to walk up the stairs to knock on people’s doors; instead, we would throw rocks at someone’s door and hope that they hear the door being hit. If the person was not there, like Stefan for instance, Buddy would call each rock that was left by his door “messages” from people. This was something I could not comprehend, until I got too lazy to walk up the stairs, also.
I picked up a nickname from Buddy, as did everyone else. Mine was now Germ, since I was German, and my room was full of things resembling German pride. I never had a nickname quite as good before, and I liked it.
My birthday came around at the very end of September, and we threw a party the day before it in room 116 for Chico and I. His birthday was the day after mine. Following that, we all went to the beach, I went skinny-dipping for my first time, and got drunker. Buddy, Jessika, and I fell asleep all piled on top of each other at the beach, while my friend Angie and this guy Austin talked. On the day of my birthday, I was pretty depressed because so many people had forgotten about it, including my own parents. I drank all day, from the moment I woke up to the moment I passed out drunk. I woke back up at three A.M., and we went to the beach. It was Stefan, Zack, Sam, Brendon, and Me. Zack and Stefan, however, would not go skinny-dipping with us; they just stood on the beach and watched. I wound up puking in Stefan’s bathroom somewhere in the middle of passing out and before we decided to go to the beach.
While I was puking, every one of those guys took a turn to come in and make sure I was all right, and Brendon was the one who spent the entire time in the bathroom with me, making sure I was fine. That was the night I realized, every single one of them, have at least a little bit of care in them for me. I liked that feeling.

Even though Sam had new friends and had what seemed like a completely different life, he still had some of his old qualities.
I was having a really bad night one night, and knew that the only thing that would bring my mood up was going to the beach. Zack was with Chico in Sonia’s room, so I walked over there first. I had no clue how to drive, but I figured if I wanted to go bad enough, I would make it there all right.
“Zack, you wanna make some money?”
“How?” He asked.
“I’ll pay you twenty bucks if you let me take your truck to the beach…”
“Hell no, are you crazy?”
So I walked out pissed off, and went on-line when I got back to my room. Sam was on-line, so I sent him a message.
“Sam, I’ll pay you twenty bucks if you let me take your car to the beach.” I typed to him.
“No…” He typed.
“I’ll pay you a hundred!” I exclaimed, desperately wanting to go.
“How bout I take you to the beach, and you don’t worry about the money.” He bargained.
I met him in front of my room, and we walked down to his car. On the way out, we passed Zack, who was coming back from buying food at Checkers.
“Zack, you fucking moron, you passed up a hundred dollars to take a girl to the beach?!” Sam yelled out to him.
“Oh well. She wanted to take my truck!” He yelled back.
We went to the beach, and sat and talked for a while. Sam smoked some cigarettes with me, which he never did, and we had a really intellectual conversation for the first time in a long time. After that, I felt a million times better.

Chapter 6 Roommate Drama

As stated, all roommates have issues and problems they need to resolve. My roommate problems went further than that because we would not solve them ourselves. Buddy was pretty much in between the two of us in every argument. Most roommates solve their disagreements and move on with their living arrangements since they have no other choice but to live with this person throughout a year of their college career, but our disagreements eventually caused us to never speak at all, ever again.
It started out because of the one rule we were given when we moved in. All residents were told they were not allowed to turn off their air conditioner units because it would cause mold and mildew to form in the air conditioner unit and in the room itself. I did not care if Vanessa turned the one in her room off, because that had nothing to do with me, but the one located in the kitchen that we shared was my problem, because if the air conditioner was found to have mold, we were to be fined. The fine to fix and repair the moldy unit would be $700. Personally, working two part time jobs while going to school, I could not afford that much money for an air conditioner that I did not turn off. Like any person would, I said something to her about it. She freaked out about me confronting her, and went downstairs and made a complaint to the front desk. They said they would set up a roommate agreement, which basically meant it would state what was hers and what was mine, and that we could not use these things.
I went away to New York on vacation in October, only to return to seeing sticky notes on the cabinet doors. They said “My shit, complain now bitch.” So I said fine, if she wanted to be immature like that, I could be too. I took all my appliances (microwave, coffee pot, toaster, etc.), plastic silverware, plates, and other common useful items, and locked it all in my room. This made her even more furious, but personally, I did not care even the slightest bit.
Whenever she had something to complain about that had to do with me, she would tell Buddy to tell me, and I would always come up with a sarcastic remark back to her. She told Buddy she needed the cordless phone once, and I walked out of my room and unplugged the receiver and locked that in my room, along with the phone. If she wanted me to clean the dishes, I would tell her to clean her dirty underwear off the floor. That was just the type of relationship we had.
Sam came over one night to mess around. I remember her chasing him around with two paring knives, threatening to cut his testicles off if he did not leave right then and there. She was rude, she was menacing, but she was my roommate, and there was nothing I could do about it. However, after the incident with the microwave being taken away, we never talked again until the day I moved.
She did not like Brendon, Zack, or Sam anymore, and when I was forced to get used to her having all of her queer friends in the kitchen screaming until five in the morning, I decided to get revenge. One day she was in the kitchen with her friends, about six people, making a load of noise when I was trying to sleep. I went downstairs to Buddy’s room (room 116) and dragged Brendon, Zack, and Sam back upstairs with me. We all walked into the kitchen and the room became silent. We decided we were going to hang out in the kitchen, too. So we did, and it drove her crazy. She disappeared until we had left.
They talked about my roommate behind her back all the time, and the sad part is everything they had said was true. I stuck up for her in the beginning but once we started fighting, I stopped. I once asked the guys what they talk about when I was not around…
“We don’t talk about you, we have no reason to.” Chico and Buddy would say.
Or… “We don’t talk about you, don’t get cocky, we have better things to think about than you.” Sam or Brendon would say.
Being that Vanessa did not like the guys at all anymore, she never hung around us, which was a good thing. The only person she still talked to was Buddy, and occasionally she spoke to Stefan.
I am really not that mean of a person to do what I had done to her, I just feel that if you want to do something to someone, be prepared for repercussion and karma.

Chapter 7 Oompa Loompa and The Coconut Gang

Eventually Andrew came into the picture. He was short, Jewish and chubby, like an Oompa Loompa. He was from Weston, Florida, and listened to the same type of music I did. Weston was a rich town, but pretty to say the least. The majority of it was Jewish, which because of me being German, I felt uncomfortable in. He brought me to Weston with him a few times, where I got into a friends with benefits relationship with one of his closest friends, Jason. Andrew went off at the end of the semester, though, to work in Disney World as a food vendor. Andrew was one character though, anyone would tell you. Our goal the entire semester was to get him really drunk and passed out so we could shave him. This did happen, but not until the end of the semester. He got so drunk that night that he wound up laying all over the Community Room and puking in the garbage. He made such a scene that night, but it was funny to finally see him get drunk. Zack decided around five in the morning it was time; it was time we accomplished our goal. All semester we had been waiting for this day, and it finally came, with only three of us there to see it. Not even a Schick Quattro razor would work on him, and Zack, being the one to do the deed, compared Andrew’s chest hair to the Redwood Forest. It was layers upon layers of unshaven hair that could not and would not be shaven.
I felt kind of bad for Andrew; a lot of people used him. Actually, the majority of the guys used him. They would go over to his room, get drunk, or eat Andrew’s food, and then when there was no more alcohol or food left, they would leave. I thought it was wrong for them to do that to him, using his friendship to get what they wanted. I never said anything because I knew Andrew noticed it, but he continued to let them use him. If he does not choose to be the one to stop it, no one will.
We went to a club once, Andrew, Jason, this girl Inna and I. Inna was a girl from my wing, who every guy seemed to know. My roommate said I would not like her, but we got along fine. We drove up to the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood, Florida to go to the club Passions. Jason was a promoter for Passions and knew the guys who could get Inna and I into the club (the age to enter Passions was 21) but there was a security guard there so Jason just supplied us with free Long Island Iced Teas for a while. We downed them, and waited a little while longer until someone suggested we go play pool until the guard was gone. So we drove to a pool hall in Davie, and played a couple games. Inna and I made some unintelligent bets of stripping, and we lost both games, resulting in us having to drive home in just our bras and thongs.
We were riding in Jason’s silver Mustang back to Hard Rock so we could get Andrew’s car and head back to Bay Vista. When we got to the Hard Rock’s parking lot, no one even considered going back to the club. When the car stopped next to Andrew’s car, they told us one of us had to get out and go with Andrew. It was not going to be me. So we argued for a while, and disappointed Andrew got back into his car with Inna sitting next to him. She got her clothes back for that. I, on the other hand, had to ride back to Bay Vista with Jason, still without my clothing.
Andrew liked me in a way that I wanted him not to. Sure, I am flattered when guys express interest in me, but Andrew took this way too far. The first night I went to Weston with him, Jason asked me where I would like to sleep. I had the options of sleeping with Jason in a king-size bed, with Andrew in a twin-sized bed, or on the couch. I was not going to sleep with Andrew, and if I slept on the couch, Jason’s mom would have gotten mad. So I slept with Jason in his bed. The next morning, Jason went to wake up Andrew, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was: “What the hell did you do with her last night?”
“Nothing, we just slept.”
“Okay, just making sure.”
There was another time that we were having a party by Stefan’s and Brendon pulled me closer to sit on his lap, and I did. Brendon started asking me to leave with him, and massaging my shoulders. Andrew got mad that night, also, and told Buddy about it.
“Yo, I was gonna punch Brendon in the face last night!”
“Why?”
“Because he knew I was trying to talk to Krystal, but he was all over her last night and knew it was making me mad!”
I did not know that talking to someone made you that person’s property. Buddy should have told him that I was his first; I just wanted to see how he would have reacted.
Jason came over a lot of the time; driving from Weston to Aventura to come see me. Sometimes he would stay over, and sometimes he would not. I think Andrew was jealous of that, but I had no feelings what so ever for Andrew, and you probably could not have paid me to do anything with him anyway.
One time when I had Jason over, we walked to Andrew’s room, and I knocked. When Andrew opened the door, he had a look of such disgust on his face because his friend was there to see me and not him; I could not have cared less.

Andrew tried teaching me how to drive once, with Buddy in the car as the back-seat driver. I drove over two curbs, and almost hit the parking post. Andrew swore he would never let me drive his car again.
In the middle of November, or maybe it was earlier than that, there was a group of people harassing Andrew, called the Coconut Gang. They started it off by just hitting his door with coconuts during the middle of the night. Then it moved on to banging on his window and sticking a note to it during the night. They counted down a total of seven days. On one of the last days, Andrew went back to Weston so he would not be there to see what happened. Everyone knew he was scared. The night he left, he got a voicemail at six thirty A.M. saying:
“Want to play hide and seek? Well, you can run… but you can’t hide. Thought you got away? You’ve just paused the game. We press play when you return from under your mother’s skirt. And this time… it’ll be ten times as worse. HAHAHAHAHA”
No one knew who the Coconut Gang was, besides those who were in it of course. I guess no one will ever find out who it was, but they sure did a good job of scaring the shit out of that kid. He eventually called the cops on them, and I guess that was the day that the terrorization ended. Too bad, I wanted to see what they could have come up with on the last day.
A couple of days after I was introduced to Andrew and his pasta cooking skills (the first day I met him he was cooking the guys some spaghetti), I went down to 116 for some rubbing alcohol to clean my infected industrial piercing.
“Hey guys. Does anybody have alcohol?”
Chico holds out a beer. “Put your hand out.”
“Shut up. Rubbing alcohol.”
“Go the fuck away, we don’t allow psychos in here.” Chico answered back.
With that, all the guys had a good laugh. I gave him a look of shock, gave him the finger and stormed out, not forgetting to slam the door on my way out. Buddy came running out after me.
“Don’t slam my door. What the hell?” He said.
“Fuck you.” I answered and continued walking down the corridor.
So I was the type of person to get offended easily; I guess it comes with my astrological sign, if you believe in any of that psychic, stereotypical crap. That was just the kind of person I was. Drama and hurt feelings seemed to revolve around me. When I was not there, there was no drama. But I guess without drama, it has to be pretty boring, right?

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