Good Morning Revelers,
Although I don’t want anyone to think this happens to me ALL the time, but occasionally ‘life’s rich pageant’ delivers a detour that sends you careening over the edge. I’m at that point where these unique occurrences are perceived as a pitiful old man trying to recapture his youth as opposed to harmless fun.
When I was 20-something it never occurred to me that my parents had their particular way of partying exclusive to their generation as did I. We had ‘Keggers’ in which many people were in attendance but knew few of them personally. We traded weekend parties with a group of guys I met in the Army living on the opposite side of town so it was truly a hodgepodge of characters.
Traditional methodology consisted of the game “Thumper,” ‘nipple clamp uncle,’ beer chugging, and accoutrements suitable for the occasion. More importantly though, I think what must be universal to all generations is the goal of getting in someone’s pants. Last weekend I was invited to a birthday party and was impressed by what I found.
Funding available my normal routine after leaving Blondie’s is to stop for a nightcap and a bowl of ‘steak soup’ from the bar at Lone Star Steakhouse just blocks from my home. In the years I’ve been doing this I have come to know several of the young bartenders on a first name basis and to the best of my knowledge one or two of them actually access this forum from time to time.
As I was finishing my beer and soup Kellie my bartender informed me of a birthday party for Jake (her boyfriend) to ensue right after their shift in about an hour. I thanked her but deep down inside knew my presence was really not expected nor wanted by a group of 20-25 year olds, so I said I’d think about it but probably not.
After getting home I began to entertain the idea and reconsidered my decision based primarily on curiosity. Why should I deprive myself of the association of 50 young people bent on getting hammered? Not wanting to evaluate that visual too closely I wondered if their party was all that dissimilar to the way I used to carry-on. Why not? Because after all number one; I was invited. Two; it was free accoutrements, and three; their house was literally two blocks from mine! I never have the opportunity to party with impunity because of possible sobriety check points or the dreaded burnt out tail light is ever lurking; ready to spoil everything with a DUI. I headed out the door on a mission!
When I got to Jake and Kellie’s house it sounded as though the party had begun in earnest. The music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to disturb neighbors sleeping. I knocked several times and rang the doorbell incessantly but nobody heard me so I opened the door to a split level house with most of the action upstairs. As I climbed the half-dozen steps I could tell I was getting noticed. As if in ‘Animal House’ a young man quickly stashed his bong while others left the crowded front room to escape out the back I assumed. Still others were in shock as the bash came to a grinding halt. “Who in the name of Mary Jane is that” I could almost hear from the stunned boys and girls. I began to introduce myself but my host came from downstairs to assure everyone I wasn’t a cop or someone’s angry father and finished the introduction. I figured it was up to me to get things started again and asked the nervous young man to retrieve the bong so I could partake. I was given a standing ovation after hitting it deeply and only coughed once at the end. I was immediately accepted (primarily as a novelty item) and the carousal again gained momentum.
While this may not be a revelation to the two or three of you ‘slipping this Mickey’ but I was highly impressed by the young adults I met. Those that would engage me in conversation without slurred “I love you mans” were smart and articulate. As expected though, there were those guests who passed out behind the tree where the dogs took turns in mock sodomy humping their lifeless bodies. This provided a great deal of entertainment to those left standing in addition to those few friends unable to hold their liquor and from a sitting position deliver projectile vomit from the driveway to someone’s hubcaps. What a marvelous night!
It took 48 hours to recover from my night of crapulous debauchery but I retired that morning with a smile on my face knowing full well I am WAY TOO old for this shit but comforted by the fact that over the generations some things never change. Party on dude.