Last year, the girls on the second floor of Smith Hall came up with this silly little thing we called a shower race. Whoever could have sex in our showers first would win (girls with boyfriends were immediately disqualified; that would have been just plain unfair).

One night, my friend said she was going to win the shower race with the boy she had brought home. Sure enough, my friends heard the shower turn on and saw both of their clothes hanging on the hooks outside — too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Needless to say, they stole the clothes, and when the deed was done, my very inebriated friend decided to rip the shower curtain down and cover herself in it to get back to her room (yes, I can hear the collective “ewwww” now). However, she left the naked guy in the shower with no towel, no clothes, no curtain and no way back to her room halfway down the hall.

About a minute later, with the girls of the floor lined up in the hallway to see what would happen, the boy came waddling out, cupping his manhood. He calmly walked back to my friend’s room.

For about a month after, she proudly displayed a sign on her door declaring, “Winner of the Shower Race.”