So I went out on Friday night. To a college party. Yeeeaaahhh…
If you know me personally, you will know that I’m not a huge party person. Granted, I’ve been to a few socials and hang-outs over the years, but definitely not as many compared to the “general” population of students out there. It’s just not my scene.
But still…I went out that Friday night.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time. But I would say that it was probably one of the first, if not the first, actual stereotypical college parties that I have attended in all of my four years in college. And that’s saying a lot about me.
Yes, I did drink, and I saw some things that I didn’t need to see, but in any case, it was a new experience.
To back it up, here’s what went down:
A quarter past 11 at night. I was waiting for my friend on the street corner to come so that we could walk over to the party together. It was hosted by two of our other friends from club, so it wasn’t some random place with random people who we didn’t know. My friend (let’s call her Lucy) showed up in a black mini-dress and a hint too much eyeliner (but doesn’t matter), and then we walked over.
The party had started at 10:30, but really, who shows up on time? The place was in full swing when we entered the apartment room: the lights were dimmed, music was blasting, and people around me were screaming and yelling and laughing. Many of them, if not all, were already drunk. A beer pong table was set up near the kitchen entrance, slightly blocking it so as to prevent too many people from accessing the booze (which had already been pretty much consumed by the time we arrived).
Our hosts greeted us, but not at the same time. One of them (let’s call her Jane) asked us if we wanted a drink. She offered us a small sample of vodka in clear plastic cups (I’d also seen the red Solo cups there, too, but didn’t use them). Lucy and I consumed it in one take (that’s the way to do it), and I instantly felt the liquor hit my stomach and spread a burning sensation throughout the gut lining. I had eaten dinner a few hours beforehand, so I knew that I was going to be *relatively* okay in terms of getting drunk.
Jane offered us chasers to wash down the vodka taste. For those who don’t know what a chaser is, it is a drink that is less-alcoholic (or not at all) to compliment a strong one. Think beer or soda. I received some Sprite, then went with Lucy to the main floor area to situate ourselves with the crowd.
One of the guests (or hosts, I’m not sure) stopped us as we were making our way through. She was definitely drunk, but a happy one: she greeted us with, “HI! OH MY GOSH YOU LOOK SO CUTE! WHAT’S YOUR NAME? LET’S DANCE!” and proceeding to drag us towards the dance floor. We somehow loosened from her grip and broke off from her. She didn’t notice, which was a good thing. ‘Cause in no way was I in the mood to dance. Not then, not ever.
Some girl came up to me and started chatting to me. Also drunk. But super nice. She kept saying things like, “I love your sweater! Aren’t you hot? It’s SO hot!” Granted, it was getting kind of stifling after a while, with the number of people crushed in the room and the faint smell of hookah curling in the corner.
Lucy kept checking her phone for some reason, texting people, I suppose. But she still mingled and talked. It was pretty cute: she started losing her filter within twenty to thirty minutes of us arriving: true, we both took in a considerable amount of alcohol within that time frame (the place only offered vodka, beer, soda, and more vodka, in the form of jello shots- more on that later), and we drank around an equal amount, but compared to her, I wasn’t really drunk. Just a tad tipsy, but that was it. Perhaps it’s because she’s smaller than me, and so the alcohol hit her quicker than myself. In any case, it was adorable. She started spewing coherent, but random stuff and then proceeded to go over to the kitchen counter, which was covered with empty and half-drank cups, and start “cleaning up,” as she had told me. She poured the drinks from the half-drank cups into another empty one, emptying all of them except for the “waste cup.” Some guy took the waste cup when we weren’t paying attention and proceeded to drink from it! Lucy and I started laughing hysterically, but at the same time we were yelling at him, “No, no, no! Don’t drink it! Don’t drink it!” But I don’t think he was fully aware, and so our words fell on deaf ears. He even gave some of it to a girl next to him! Oh my god, it was insane, but it was really hilarious.
Lucy also happened to have run into a guy who she knew from one of her clubs and they started to talk. I followed them out into the apartment hallway for their conversation; I saw two girls, both probably heterosexual, drunkenly make out in the kitchen. Oh, the things you see…
We were in the hallway, talking. A few other people were in the hallway as well, probably getting some fresh air, as I was. Two guys came stumbling out, one of them who wasn’t took so good. He sat down in the apartment hallway, turned to his side, and began throwing up. And, oh my God, the vomit was red. Bright red. I was guessing that it was from the cherry jello shots and that he had consumed way too many of them. I admit, those tasted pretty good. This friend was laughing at him as he threw up, slapping him on the head and everything. I made eye contact with Lucy, who also was witnessing it. We were probably both thinking, “Dang. That doesn’t look good.”
Pretty soon, we decided to bounce and hit up the Latino fraternity nearby. I’m not Latina, but Lucy is and she knows friends in there. The party was still going on as we entered, but we could tell that it was slowly dying out. All of the liquor was gone, and I saw a couple of people passed out on the sofas as we made our way up to the penthouse deck.
The night was lovely. The waxing moon was partly obscured by the midnight haze, but the view of the city apartments was a novel experience for me. Lucy talked to a friend, while I talked to a couple of guys, whom I didn’t have any interest in, and they probably didn’t for me, either. Just shot the bull, nothing too deep.
We had picked up two of Lucy’s female friends on our way to the frat party, but they weren’t really enjoying it up at the penthouse. All of the liquor was gone, and they looked bored. After a while, they left.
Lucy met up with one of the frat guys and he took us to his “lair,” aka bedroom, where it was much more quiet, away from the music and noise. They started catching up; apparently, they knew each other from summer camp a few years back. I excused myself twice to go to the bathroom, which had a super long line. As an alternative, I just went outside to piss in the bushes, making sure that no one saw me. At that point, I was drunk, and my dignity had long since flown out the window. Went back inside to reconvene with Lucy and her guy friend, as they continued to shoot the bull.
At some point, the police arrived. Lucy’s guy friend turned out the lights of his bedroom and we “hid out” for a couple of minutes. The music stopped, the place emptied out. Lucy and I left. Outside, the policemen were guiding the guests, including us, out.
I went over to Lucy’s place (not too far from my apartment) to crash for a little bit and sober up some more. Her two friends who had left us at the frat party were back, drunk from probably their own liquor in the apartment. Chilled out for about thirty minutes before calling it a night. Said goodbye to them, then made my way back to my place. Freshened up, then crashed into bed past 3 am. Got less than four hours of sleep, as I had to wake up to head back home.
It ended quietly. I’d received text messages from my roommate during the night asking if I was okay, and had left the light on back in the apartment for me when I came back. I was touched by her concern for me; not like she isn’t, but that was the first time that she did that. Then again, that was the first time I went out that late.
I would say that I am glad that I was able to experience something like that. I admit that I had fun. I think that it really depends, though, who you choose to go out with that makes or breaks your experience. Lucy is a pretty close friend of mine, and so it was good. I wouldn’t say that I would do this every week, but if I happen to have the opportunity to do it again some time down the line, why not?
‘Til then, it’s beddy-bye time. Lights out!
– The Finicky Cynic