As my friend resided in student housing, Public Safety had jurisdiction. They pierced the party and demanded everyone’s identification. When they charged me for mine, I extracted my school ID from my back pocket and stood, stationary, identification in hand. I gawked at the cop, grasping the probable catastrophic conclusion of surrendering my identity. Visions of coaches shrieking and storming harassed my mind. I resolved refusal of relinquishing the ID and scrutinized my surroundings.
As the Public Safety Officer reached for my identification, I spun and sprinted for the open front window. I dove out that open front window, landing headfirst in a heap on the concrete. I raised myself and ran away, ID still in hand, officer bellowing at the window.
The following day, my teammates enlightened me as to the events that emerged after I departed through the window. A few buried themselves in the bathtub, and one in the closet, thus eluding Public Safety. Aside from my liberating lunge, and a few fanatical flees, someone from every student housing building on campus had been written up for underage alcohol use. Several people from every Division-1 sports team through the university had been written up. The administration was not amused. As one of our teammates fled, an officer attempted to obstruct the escape. Teammate’s verbal response to Public Safety: “Fuck you, Bitch!”
The Issue: she accidentally absconded without her student identification. As Teammate dashed down the street, Birthday Girl screamed Teammate’s name out the window, declaring she forgot her ID. Public Safety Officer heard, remembered the name, and discovered Teammate’s identity. Our coach received a call at 7am announcing one of the girls on her team had a raucous party the night before, and another girl on the team screeched, “Fuck you, Bitch!” to the officer. Our coach had never been a morning person.