Atrocious

It's almost 2 a.m. and that means war for yours truly. For at 2 a.m. the young individuals whose names I neither know nor care to find out start stumbling back to this hall. Their simple yet malicious actions of intoxicated stupidity outside are nothing compared to what I will soon have to experience when they grace the doors of my halls.

Even before they enter, I will hear the sounds of the masses slopping forth, each step an echo of the doom they bring. They of course need no name. A horde seems but fitting for them.

And of this group I have neither an ability to give one feature to describe any single entity that would happen to appear. Of the males of the species, two distinct groups exist. The first being of the group I know as the bro's. Of this group are individuals who are incapable of admitting their sexuality, and many more who are so enamored by their perceived perception of masculinity that they forgo both sense and common language abilities as they have given up both even before the drink took ahold of them.

The latter of this group are the depressed slopping groups that have left alone. Deprived of both a group to sustain their egos and being incapable of neither procuring a mate or even a friend for their company, these stragglers walk and slide through my door. They act as shadows that move, creeping past silently; their black shirts passing between the mind's eye and the realm of the space of night that my menial existence flourishes. I glance at them as I sit here thinking for a moment that I should attempt to strike a conversation so as to lighten their mood, but as I am there I realize that I need neither their depression nor their lack of friends to make me feel better about my existence.

Of the females to grace my doors are but in a measure a similar set of two kinds. The alphas of these groups have friends, they carry their little make-shift purses as if they hold precious treasures, and granted it must contain their phones; I am guessing it should measure out to be something along those lines. As I sit here glaring at them for their wardrobe malfunctions, the scandalous misfits of cloth that must pass for high-end fashion, I conjecture that they must have danced for their shoes are now in hand. I facepalm for but a moment as I gather their IDs for the inevitable number of room lock outs that have and will soon happen again. For it would seem that the ability to manage one's property goes out the door the moment these ladies decide to have a night out on the town. They stumble forward grasping at their friends and in general acting as ladies-of-the-night. I don't doubt a transaction of money is occuring at this and later tonight...

Of the second group are the females who may or may not have been drinking. They neither stumble nor do they walk perfectly. Instead the weight of the bag of McDonalds seems to out-weigh their purses and as they grasp at both, they inevitably must hand one to a friend since their phones are going off with texts from the friend who hasn't come home yet.

As an individual who is security conscious, I consider each individual who graces my door. And though I am past the stage of giving a shit about the noise level. The resident assistant who is on call tonight gave up on caring also. She sits there interspersing conversing with her boyfriend over skype and then again with the loud group of bro's present. I have thus given up on the same. And I ignore them all until I must once again go on rounds to check on the damages present.

It's gonna be a long night my dear chaps. And for you and myself both, lets hope that the horde that I've detailed are few and far between. Or getting arrested and not making their presence known.