Unsurprising: Wharton Student Found at Urinal With Pants and Underwear at His Ankles

 After a long day of classes and clubs, it’s difficult to find motivation to study. One of my favorite methods to get over this hurdle — besides popping five Adderall after drinking enough coffee to kill a rhinoceros — is finding a good study area. My favorite: Wharton’s Academic Research Building. 

It gives me a sense of pride knowing that I, a student in the School of Arts & Sciences, do not belong there. The people in here are struggling to do something that I could maybe possibly probably do EASILY. The fueling of my narcissistic beliefs that I am better than these people gives me the energy I need to do my ten page reading for one class (I’m not taking notes on it either). 

Taking twenty-minute Tiktok breaks after every page is quite exhausting! I need another break: when nature calls, you know damn well I will answer. After getting lost several times, I finally found the bathroom and was greeted with quite an unpleasant sight: a Wharton student was using the urinal with his pants and underwear all the way down to his ankles. 

This is not the first time this has happened to me, and I’m not longer shocked and appalled by it. Several times this semester a Wharton student was at the urinal, ass out, wearing their hoodie with their currency cohort on it; this one is a part of the Euro cohort.

I walked into a stall — I’m not standing next to that dude — and did my business (you pervs aren’t hearing about that). He was done when I walked out but still stood there half naked. Looking back, PennPi spaghetti sauce all over his mouth and hoodie, he said “hi.” I just nodded and washed my hands — I really wasn’t trying to talk to him. He persisted, asking me how my day was and I said “good” very quickly as I went toward the hand dryer — why the hell are you talking to me with your dick out. 

As I was finishing up he contorted himself backwards and crawled towards me exorcist-style. Not cool dude. I freaked out and ran out of the bathroom, trying to find my stuff. Once I found it, I sat back down and got to work; the adrenaline gave me enough energy to do yet another ten page reading.

I saw him leave the building on my seventh TikTok break — luckily he didn’t see me. He had his pants up, good for him. Unfortunately his underwear was still at his ankles, but it’s the thought that counts.