SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER
LOST BOSTON VIRGINITY: “WHEN I WAS THREE?”
It was only at the end of my sophomore year that I was able to really appreciate a proper American bender. My last day in Boston before Summer, my buddies and I decided to do a Harvard Square bar crawl. My former friend Mike decided we should start the night with Irish Carbombs; a drink that inevitably leads to a night of continuous bad decisions. There’s just something about that creamy beige mixing with the Irish darkness that releases my inner Hyde. This night in particular lead to us getting kicked out of Charlie’s Kitchen, Tommy Doyles and John Harvards (at which point the pack split up, being chased by bouncers). I ended up crashing a Harvard Landscaping Institute party, drinking all their wine, accidentally turning on the sprinklers in the building, then waking up the next day in some girls bed wondering if everything from the night before actually happened. To this day none of this can be confirmed or denied. All I know is Irish Carbombs are on my consumption blacklist.