They just seemed so helpless as we left WU together that night, and I didn’t know enough about their culture to know if they’d survive the downpour. Are JUULs even waterproof? Or are they like toasters? Will they get electrocuted if they use them in the water? I couldn’t risk it.
“Any freshmen want a ride back to East?”
I was immediately showered in a chorus of “yeet”s, “ily”s, and “you’re the GOAT!!”s, so—emboldened—I led the flock out to my car.
Four grateful (?) freshmen piled in. I turned the key, and one of my mixed CDs from 2012 began playing Passion Pit’s “Take a Walk.” Freshmen #1 and #3 exchanged a look in my rearview mirror. Noticing their discontentment, I chuckled nervously and asked if they had any song requests.
Freshman#1: “Can you play a Big Booty Mix?”
Freshman#2: “Oh, yeah! Do 14!”
Freshman#3: “No, 11 is the best, and everyone knows it.”
Freshman#4: “Agreed. You have to play 11.”
Scrambling to hook my phone up to the aux cord, I pulled up Spotify and typed “Big Booty” in the search bar. Freshman#1 looked over at my screen and rolled her eyes.
“They’re not on Spotify.” She took a drag of her JUUL, the vapor-to-air ratio in my car getting greater every second.
“Oh, really? Apple Music?”
“Ew, that’s beat. They’re on SoundCloud,” she huffed with an exasperated sigh.
Is it possible to suffocate on fruit-flavored vapor?
“Oh, I don’t have SoundCloud. Any other requests?” I racked my brain for relevant artists. “Billie Eilish?”
You could no longer smell the “fresh linen” aroma of my Bath & Body car freshener over the funky fumes getting swirled around by the air vents.
Freshmen#1-4 began chanting, “Big Booty 11! Big Booty 11!”
With the dizzying mango vapor filling the car, I reached for the button to put the windows down. A manicured hand shot out to hold down the child locks. I was trapped. The sticky, sweet “smoke” penetrated my lungs and obscured my vision. Through the fog, the menacing chanting continued: “Big Booty 11! Big Booty 11! BIG BOOTY ELEVEN!”
What. Have. I. Done.