Party, Frat Style (Part 2)
Posted on May 5, 2010[Continued from "Party, Frat Style (Part 1)."]
My fraternity buddies and their fraternity buddies and I went to a dark room in the house’s basement. There were a few bunk beds in the room. Someone pulled the mattresses off of the top bunks and put them on the floor so we all had comfortable places to sit. In short order a bong was passed around.
I was on my second drink. I took a couple of hits off the bong. I was experienced both drinking and smoking. I started drinking when I was 14 and smoking pot when I was 16. In the intervening years I had done one or the other pretty much on a daily basis. I had not, however, ever mixed alcohol and pot. Until that night.
That night was the first time in a long time that I had smoked pot. I stopped for a couple of reasons. One, I refused to pay for pot. I figured I was a girl so I didn’t have to. That worked for a while. I had had a friend who was a dealer who gave me his shag, which was more like stems and seeds. Two, I found that when I smoked pot I got headaches and then fell asleep, which was no longer any fun. The headaches were probably due to the fact that I was smoking stems and seeds.
When I moved to Oakland to attend Berkeley I didn’t know anyone, and certainly wasn’t in the position to get pot for free. At the time I went to the frat party I was much more of a drinker. I had worked in a bar for four years, and once in our apartment in Oakland, the Ex and I often made ourselves margaritas. Less than two drinks, even of Aftershock, certainly wouldn’t have done me in.
I did not, however, count on the exponential impact of the alcohol/pot combination. As everyone was stoned, they were talking and joking and laughing. Everyone but me. I sat quietly, listening to everyone else have a good time. I thought to myself that no one was actually funny; there was no reason for anyone to be laughing. Why the fuck were they laughing?
I wanted to get out of that room. I had had enough of these unfunny compulsive laughers. I looked toward the door, which was straight across from me. Well, not quite straight, as the bedroom door appeared to require a climb to get to. It looked to me as though the entire room had tilted up 45º with me at the bottom.
I began the ascent to the front door. First, I had to get off my ass and onto my feet on a soft mattress. Then I had to walk up the very steep grade to the bedroom door. I had to do this without falling and without drawing too much attention to myself. Also without showing anyone my panties under the short and flouncy skirt of my dress. It was a difficult climb, but I finally made it to the door where I let myself out of the bedroom.
I could still hear the idiots laughing as I made my way down the florescent-lit hallway.
[To be continued …..]
I swear. True story.
Tags: booze, disaster, manners
Categories: True Story.
[...] [Continued from "Party, Frat Style (Part 2)."] [...]
22.05.2010 19:52
[...] [To be continued ….] [...]
29.08.2010 20:13