The morning after. Crikey, what a night.
The party night started out innocently enough, with me snagging a ride with one of the other students rather than a taxi. However, he didn't know where the place was, so we elected to just follow one of the taxis. Well, the taxi drove faster, so we eventually lost it and started wandering around aimlessly before we asked one of the locals for directions.
I was expecting a big, open room with a significant sound system. Dance extravaganza kind of thing. Well, it was big, but it certainly wasn't open. The place was packed with tables and chairs, and everyone there was sitting down. The sound system was a boom box sitting in the corner, playing a mix CD one of the students had made.
At first, everyone was just sitting around, making smalltalk, and sipping drinks. That awkward period before a party actually gets into gear.
But then the drinks started multiplying. People thawed out that first barrier and were starting to get chatty, but they didn't stand up. They just kept drinking.
Things kinda went downhill from there.
I was personally expecting a party, with some drinking on the side. It turned into a drinking, with some party on the side. Good grief, how did they even manage to carry that many bottles in?
Fast forward a few hours. Everyone is utterly hammered, with the exception of me. I've been drinking Sprite all evening, just so I can have a glass in my hand (one of those things about a party. It's better to have a non-alcoholic drink in your hand than no drink at all).
The floor is pretty damn filthy. Potato chips are sticking to the spots where drink bottles have been knocked down and smashed. The boom box has apparently been damaged somewhere along the line, and is adding its own beat to whatever song is playing. At the moment, it happens to be the fourth or fifth time someone's put on "Lollipop" by Lil' Wayne.
One guy is singing along to the song. He has for every repetition of the song since the very beginning. Probably a result of starting the evening with tequila shooters. He also has one girl on his lap and another cozying up next to him.
The girl who had originally presented the idea that everyone was going to split up into threesomes is too busy getting shitfaced to engage in any such close contact. She's started exhibiting a slow weave in every movement she makes.
But she's nothing compared to another girl who had gotten right into the party. There's always one who has a harder time holding their liquor, isn't there? Anyways, this one's stampeding around happily and occasionally careening into stationary objects. She's needed someone to help her with the bathroom a couple times now.
There's a guy from Film and TV who is running around and belting out every song that starts playing on the box. Even if he doesn't know the lyrics.
Another guy has asked me to watch his beer. This is actually a valid concern, as people are paying less and less attention to which can they're drinking from.
Engaging chronological shift: Now-Then.
So, yeah. Everyone was tanked up. The place had gone straight past party and right into "The Wastedlands".
One guy got buzzed by his buzz, and started making rounds and checking on everyone to make sure they were having a good time. He started acting like it was his party, and that he had to keep everyone doing happy things.
I was problematic for him. He gave me instructions on a couple occasions, and while they were duly noted, they were also duly ignored. I started migrating away from his position.
And towards X. Boy, was this my highlight of the evening.
The Jell-o she had been making with my roommate was spiked. Rather significantly spiked. She wasn't quite as drunk as some of the others, but she was still quite locked into party mode. And man, she really liked that Jell-o.
I took a couple gambles, and lost both times. First time, she had clenched her Jello (f*** the dash) cup between her teeth and tilted her head back to get the last drops out. This naturally resulted in her getting Jello on her face. She goes off into the kitchen to find something to clean it off, and I follow after her in the hopes of helping out.
Well, she'd gotten it all off by the time I got there. I guess there wasn't much to begin with, because I wasn't exactly that far behind.
So I suppose that's more of what we Blackjack players would call a "push". No win, no lose.
Second time was a loss.
It was a bit later on in the evening, and she was sitting down with a friend and looking through pictures on someone's camera (it might have been hers, it might not). I was sitting behind her (the seating arrangement at this point was not particularly organized).
I tapped her on the shoulder, and when she turned around I asked if I could tell her something. She said sure.
I said she was the reason I came to the party (which is true, actually. I waited until I saw her name on the list before I signed up).
"Oi." is not a particularly heartening response to that statement. She seemed a little bit uncertain for a few moments, and I could see a "shit, how do I get out of this" expression on her face. She eventually said, with a little laugh, that I also came for the party. I said I wasn't really getting that much out of it. I got another "Oi." in return. I didn't see much of her for the rest of the evening.
Well, I'd rather certainly not have her than uncertainly have her. Turns an ongoing torture into just a chestpain. Funny how hope can hurt.
I didn't get a girlfriend out of the whole deal, but I think I did get a girl friend. I opened up to this one really sweet girl who just gets nicer as she gets drunk. She's got a pretty hefty dialect, but it's one I have a bit of experience with.
So, provided she remembers what happened, she may feel more inclined to include me in social endeavors (part of my opening up always seems to include something about how asocial I am, and how I never talk with people).
It was around this time that people starting getting set up to go to sleep. There were two main areas where we could lay down our sleeping bags 'n' such, and someone had puked in one of them. The other one was crammed full by the time I go there.
So, I went outside. I eventually found a rather passable spot on this one outer part of the building, and settled down for the night. Would've been much nicer if I'd had a pillow, to be perfectly honest.
I listened to the nightlife for a while, the people coming out to piss in the grass (around fifty people went to the party. The building had two bathrooms), the songs being repeated on the boom box inside, the spontaneous laughter bubbling up from the people sitting on the picnic table outside.
It wasn't particularly comfortable out there, seeing as it was frigidly cold. I was doing fine if I could keep all my bodyparts over the insulating mat, but that was slightly difficult to keep up. But even through all that, I managed to be asleep enough to be awakened by my name being called.
A couple girls had apparently heard that I was sleeping outside, and had come out to convince me to come inside where it was warm(er). I asked if there was any space left, they said yes. Without vomit, I amended. They said yes.
So, I packed up and went inside. After a bit of searching, I found that the area was still either human-filled or puke-enhanced. I went to find the girls who had brought me inside.
After she realized that there was indeed no space left, she unblocked one of the doors leading outside and locked it shut to keep people from constantly passing through it. And with that, I slept in the mud room.
Locks do not pose a particularly useful inhibitor to someone who isn't playing with a full deck. I still got several people stepping over my bag to get to the door, where they'd rattle it and fiddle with the lock for a while. Nevermind that there were two other doors out of the place, they needed to use *that* one.
Someone eventually managed to complete the complex ritual of turning the lock switch in the right direction, and the door was open for business again. It was five thirty in the morning, and people were still going for it.
I managed to get a couple hours of sleep before it was time to go. A few people are going to be sitting around for a while in order to fulfill the eight hour requirement before coming back to school.
Next time one of these things is planned, I'm either not going or I'm bringing a video camera. Sitting in a chair and watching every piss-drunk fool get cozy with a girl while I'm the odd one out is not particularly fun.
Especially when it's the girl I've been infatuated with ever since I first saw her.
I must admit though, having someone come up to you and ask you what they did last night is somewhat entertaining. Being the sober dude means your memory is not hindered by the healing effects of alcohol.
However, being the somber dude means you didn't keep your head up enough to see the good stuff. I did get to see one girl holding onto the back of some guy's shirt so that he wouldn't fall over while taking a piss outside.
And now, I am going to brush my teeth. I feel like shit, but that's the way it flows.
Next weekend is the start of a vacation. I don't think I'll have any plans other than heading back up to my grandparents' farm by that time.
Author
Topic: Sandy Fjord (Read 96326 times)