A Grown Girl Goes Undercover at a Frat Party

A Grown Girl Goes Undercover at a Frat Party

6 P.M. My fixer, a 19-year-old sophomore at the University of Southern Ca, texts me saying she not any longer seems „safe” or „comfortable” with this plan (to help keep her anonymous, we will call her „Cindy”).

We had been likely to crash a frat party, spend time, to discover what are the results. Simply an instant anthropological jaunt into the crude and increasingly vexing mating rites of university Greeks.

Getting use of frat parties as being a young feminine is easy. The sole needs certainly are a college ID card and an attitude that is plucky. Most of the USC frats and sororities are crammed on up to a residential block so if we strike down engaging in one household, we’re able to easily scamper up to another.

But tonight, Cindy notifies me personally, the events are now being held from the row.

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