Parties
Walking up the stairs to this loud, crowded, messy house, where tonight’s ‘phat’ party is being held. I take in the horrible smell of burning tobacco floating through the air being produced by young adolescents who have their 12oz. in one hand, and their Marlboro burning in the other. Black lungs, lung cancer, and that terrible smokers cough is all I can think of as I walk past these kids to one of my high school buddies who enjoys getting his pack-a-day of nicotine, tar filled cancer sticks. Is their really such thing as a light cigarette? I hold these thoughts to myself, and continue to chitchat with my buddy for the five minutes or so it takes him to finish his ‘cig’ about random, immature, and funny topics that he will probably forget about in the next 30 minutes. I carry on with my night by taking a few short steps into the crowded party house. Waka Flocka Flames “No Hands” is blaring through the air, people dancing, laughing, talking, and flirting while drinking their 12oz. cans. Standing to my left is at first glance a very attractive young woman, at second glance is a college student whose face is peeling due to the excessive amount of makeup covering her entire face. She is already starting to talk like she is a forty year smoker. I just saw her outside with a full 12oz. that she was rapidly finishing in order to get herself to as many of us young people would put it, “On Her Level”. I keep walking and feel my feet sticking to the floor with every step from the spilled 12oz., that someone spilled earlier in the night and has now dried up and become ant infested. As I pass the sticky ground, I make my way up the crowded stairs, trying to pass two people who have both of their arms around their friend, who is stumbling down the stairs due to her intoxication level. I think to myself “Why?” As I squeeze past the three of them. Many with firm, friendly handshakes greet me as I emerge from all the drunks at the top of the stairs, feeling like I just climbed Mount Everest. I walk into a room where the smell of armpits that are begging for deodorant makes me nauseous. I find my way to the nearest seat, which happens to be on a sofa around many who are not in the right state of mind to continue chugging their 12oz.’s. I stand right back up after seeing the person next to me rocking back and forth, in a motion that made me assume they are about ready to vomit. I then sit on the other side of the room away from all the loud slurring words of my intoxicated peers. Just so happens that where I sit happens to be a couch reeking of mold infestation, due to spilled 12oz. cans from intoxicated young adults. Time to go downstairs to the bathroom. Once again squeezing past all the people standing on the stairs, I finally arrive at the bathroom. Upon entry I see red, chunky vomit making myself wonder; Fruit punch Gatorade as a chaser, or somebody had some pizza that evening for dinner. Disgusted, I head to the next bathroom where there is a recently bleached white toilet, where I have the ability to cleanly release my bladder. Coming out of the bathroom, back into the filthy ‘Party’ house, I realize how intoxicated people can be funny, mean, and just plain stupid. The few sober people left in the house laugh hysterically at the vast amounts of drunks. I am unsure as to why I bother coming to these social events, perhaps it’s the fact that I find so much comedy, and amusement out of the binge drinkers. Or maybe it is the fact that there is obviously nothing better to do on a beautiful weekend night then to drink until you throw up. The party is ending, and everyone is headed back home. It is now time to call the only other person on this college campus who is sober, our fraternities designated sober driver for the evening. They arrive shortly after the initial call and give me a ride back to New Hall. Sitting in my room, I reflect upon this evenings events. I wonder why kids do this sort of thing. Is it because they want to be rebellious? Is it because it is fun doing something illegal? Or do they really appreciate, the watered down flavor that comes in a 12oz. can of Natural Light? I come to the conclusion that it is a mixture of all three. I look towards my alarm clock which displays 3am, an decide that I have had enough for one day, so I rest my head on my pillow, and fall asleep.