Privileged III

Okay, it’s storytime, little lady.

First, a little preamble to get to the part of interest. So I was at this party Friday night at a friend’s apartment near campus. It was for her roommates’ birthdays or something. So at one point we (i.e. Justin & co.) went on a quest ostensibly for cigars probably just after 1 a.m. After a detour through Waterloo Park (the adventure route!) and taking the sane route back, we arrive around 2:30 to find the party pretty much dead.

Now the layout of this party is the apartment plus the basement/parking/storage area downstairs. Downstairs is where we had spent most of the party. It had music and flip cup, basically. So we find only two people downstairs just sort of sitting there listening to music.

Attempting to go upstairs to the apartment, we find the door locked. I’m now talking to one of the guys from the basement and he suggests we help boost him onto the balcony so he can go in through the patio door and let us in. So we boost him onto the balcony. I go back in so that I hopefully be let in. He comes back saying that the patio door was also locked. For shit.

So we exchange pleasantries and he says “I didn’t get your name. I’m Ryan.”

“Justin.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be Justin [redacted], would you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I replied. “How’d you know?”

“[Redacted].”

“[Redacted]’s been talking about me?” I ask.

“Well, more specifically [Redacted]’s Facebook.”

And that’s the story of my being Facebook stalked.

Note: Name's redacted to protect the innocent.