July 25, 2006
Cinco de WASTED: The Last Party & Epilogue
I’m walking past the garage on Parkwood and I’m running my fingers along the side of the building.
I push open the door to their place and I’m greeted, surprisingly, by most of the people in the room. There was a blur of a group in front of me. To my left a table with a hookah and some kids. I greeted them; Mark, Katrina, Jerilyn, Candice, Edrick, Gary, Malaika, I think, I don't know, maybe more, maybe less. Apparently through pictures, I went around the place, sat down next to Malaika and chatted. I told Malaika to help me back when we go back to the building because I will need the help. She agreed and said something about what she drank tonight.
We’re all laughing out on the patio and I bust into the house and collapse onto the sofa. According to pictures, I’m there for quite a while. Specifics are hard to remember, I remember images of me laughing, me talking to people about the menu of alcohol I had that night. I consumed another beverage, beer, tequila, antifreeze? I had no idea, by then my taste buds have lost all function. I took whatever it was and drank it whole.
In the back yard I’m lying on the gravel. The gravel feels so cool against my cheek. I say “oh these clothes” in my best Peter voice I can while writhing on the ground.
I’m stumbling somewhere, but I’m not moving on my own free will.
“Come on man lets get you inside.” The mystery voice was kind. “How much did you have to drink?” I say something, probably a shape of some sort.
All I see is red, a deep scarlet red. The smell is acrid and sweet at the same time. I look up and see a blur of yellow, black, and white. I notice I’m hanging over a trashcan filled with the drinks of the past hour and a half. Where am I? I look around more, notice that this place was empty, and the exact mirror image of the place I was at. I’m next door, the calm room. Looking out the window I see the familiar people on the porch. “You alright man?” It’s the guy who helped me. “Yeah, I’m,” I pause to collect myself, and let my stomach settle, “I’m good.” I get up and try to make out who this guy was. He’s about my height, maybe a little taller, and wearing a track jacket. Well whoever this guy was, thanks.
I stumble out of the front door, I hit someone with it, it doesn’t faze me. Malaika is there on the porch talking to some guys. She turns to me and says, “Hey I was looking for you! Are you ready to go?”
“I’m ready to go,” I respond, slurring exponentially, “Are you ready to go?” Did she respond? I don't know. I started walking down the steps, hearing goodbyes by the passer bys and destined to get back and sleep.
I rest up against the garage and tell Malaika to hold on. I sit down and feel something bubble in my stomach. I turn over and jam my head into a corner. I’ve found that its not the actual throwing up that makes you throw up, its that nasty taste of stomach acid in your mouth that makes you throw up. I begin my regime of spitting, clutching my stomach. “Oh my god is he ok?!” It’s Micah, definitely Micah. “Yeah he is, just had too much to drink,” Malaika responds like my PR person and I’m some drunk socialite. I see a flash, great, pictures, I might as well be a socialite. I roll back over and sit, It feels cool. Malaika reassures me its ok to rest, but we should get moving, wouldn't want to get caught by the cops.
Malaika and I are outside of Johnson and I’m trying to compose myself. I pull out my ID card and wait while she says goodbye to someone. “You ready?” she asks. Ready as I’ll ever be, I think. We make it up the steps, swipe our cards, and go to the elevator. Once in the elevator I breath a sigh of relief and collapse onto the metal walls.
Epilogue
I wake up, Its afternoon. I’m on top of my sheets, in the clothes I was wearing last night. I reach up for my glasses. They’re not there. Shit, countless weekends of parties and I lose my glasses right before finals. I roll out of bed. My Head feels like its in a vice and my mouth is bone dry. I grab a water bottle out of fridge and drink. I almost gag, It tastes like tequila. I grab one of my propels, I don't gag this time so I drink as much of it as I can. I make my way out of the room and head to the bathroom. I do my business and head back to my room. While unlocking my door I see Ryan coming out of his room. There’s an awkward moment. Do I say hi? He’s thinking it too. Sensing the awkward moment we simultaneously move on to something else. I open the door, shut it behind me, and collapse onto my bed.
Cinco de WASTED: ... and no-one else
I’m leaning on the wall next to the drink table. The lean is facilitated by the fact that the apartment is now packed with people and the alcohol is slowly stripping away my motor functions. A guy comes up to the drink table and asks for a shot, they use double shot glasses here too. He asks the barkeep to do a shot with him, he politely refuses saying that he drank too much already (Side note: What is it with tequila that makes drinking it by yourself bad? It seems as if tequila can’t be consumed unless if it is in groups of 2 or more). The surprisingly already drunk patron kept badgering the barkeep. The Barkeep, male, blonde, black tee, and tall, points over to me and says, “Why don’t you take a shot with him?”
The barkeep offers me a shot and I take it and, after the prerequisite count down, me and the other guy down our shots and laugh. Not just a chuckle or a hearty guffaw, but a laugh that usually accompanies pointing and laughing at your friend who just spilled soda on them in the middle of the dining hall, or who just crashed their bike into the curb and now is bleeding internally, you know that kind of laugh. I introduce myself to the guy and he shakes my hand accordingly. He was in a couple main stage theater productions I saw this year, very pale, very gay.
I fade back into the obscurity of the wall and I watch as these people enjoy themselves. My alcohol impaired view of the room caused it to swell and swirl in a blur of people and laughter and dancing. I feel tired, and alienated from the group around me.
Options fly through my head of what I could do. I could stay here, make friends, or attempt to make friends, until my other friends get back. I could leave, go to the other party, or I could milk as much alcohol out of these parties as possible then leave at the right moment. I chose that option.
More people come in. As I try to compose myself I notice one of them. She comes up to the bar and asks what they have. I’m trying to come up with an introduction, something along the lines of, “aren’t you in my media ethics class?” my use of the classic “are you in my ____ class/lab?” never fails to amaze. However the night has taken its toll on me and I seize up. She glances back and says hi.
“You’re in my Ethics class aren’t you?” she beat me to the punch. I admit defeat and go with the flow, “Yeah, I am.”
“What presentation did you do?”
“I did the ‘Out of control: Portrayal of college students in the media’ presentation”
“Oh! I liked that presentation a lot,” that's probably a lie, “Those slides were awesome,” now that wasn’t a lie, or at least I tell myself that to boost my ego. We continued our discussion about the class, the teacher, and those in it and I feel the need to go back over to Gayler’s. I say goodbye and that I’ll see her in class Monday (that Monday we sat next to each other and exchanged awkward greetings, midway through class she asked to borrow a pencil, at the end of class she returned the pencil, and I never talked to her again).
I walked into Gayler’s kitchen and I see Ryan and Casin passing a bottle of tequila between them. They are both swaying in the drunken breeze. They notice me and yell out a drunken, “HEY!wassupman.” Casin offers me tequila, I protest, “Isn’t that Gayler’s?”
“Nah man, we brought it,” pause to burp, “with us. You want some?” I take the bottle, even though I know it really is Gayler’s. I take a long and hearty swig, and pass it back to Casin. I’m leaning back onto the kitchen counter and we’re discussing how come we never talked to each other this year, despite being only 4 doors away from each other, let alone being in the same corner of the building. We laughed, because it’s hard not to laugh at an awkward situation.
I’m out on the balcony holding a beer from Gayler’s and breathing in the crisp air; a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere inside. I head back inside to use the bathroom.
Zipping up I take a look at myself in the mirror. I look like I just came back from the gym, red in the face, flustered, sweaty, and disoriented. I splash water over my face and It calms my nerves. I grip the sides of the sink and hang my head, trying to catch my breath. I look back up and ask myself, “You ready?”
Back in the party I run into Eddie. “Yo, whoa, when did you get back here?” He describes his situation and tells me that Joanna is back too. I head out onto the porch and see her on the futon and I collapse next to her. Gayler is out on the porch with his guitar.
It switched. Gayler is sitting low on the futon with his arms up above him and Joanna is talking to him, giggling like a horny school girl. She’s hungry, like a fat girl wants a cupcake, except that she’s willing to settle for half a cupcake.
I’m heading to the other party. Going down the stairs I feel nothing. No movement no shock from the steps, I am senseless.
I stagger down the steps in front of his building. The group of people behind me are laughing, with me for a second then quickly at me. I run into a group, a familiar silhouette. Two shaggy haired pretty boys, a stout tank, a shaggy bearded figure, and a tall guy. It’s them. “Hey! Where are you going?! Is the party still good?! Dude you look wrecked!” I respond with a mumble and a shout and keep on walking.
I charge down the sidewalk like a rhino through a crystal store. I look at my feet, moving as if propelled by some odd force taking me to my destination.
I look up and I’m passing by two girls and a kid with a sombrero not wearing a shirt. I see the 7-11 in the distance, it's a blur of orange green and white. I stagger a bit, could be the alcohol, probably a mix of that and the uneven bricks.
July 16, 2006
July 14, 2006
Cinco de WASTED: The Second Party
Steve mentions to me that the three parties on this floor has opened up their doors to their balconies to allow people to move from one party to the next, making it almost one huge party. I talk to Joanna about going over to Gayler’s via the balcony connected through the kitchen. She is adamant about staying here, in this party and pleads that I don't go to Gayler’s. I tell her I’m going anyways and she tells me to keep an eye out on what is going on, otherwise known as “Who is Gayler making out with.”
I squeeze through the balcony, doing the standard, drink at chest level in the left hand and the right arm at a 90 degree angle as if I was parting the crowd saying “excuse me.”
Once in Gayler’s apartment the mood changes. Where the prior party was filled with loud conversations and loud, thumping music; this party was chill and laidback. I go into the dining room and see the standard set up, beer pong table in the center, keg in the corner, and everyone watching or drinking. Gayler notices me and approaches with his hand outstretched. “Whats up man! How’re you doing?” I grasp his hand and do the normal pull in single arm hug pat on the back straight guy thing. I tell him I’m doing good when someone says “The question is ‘How are you doing Gayler!” Steve was behind me. We both lean onto the wall and soak in the scenery. A smoky apartment with the scent of beer, tequila, and lime. Gayler is sitting next to us, steadily drinking his beer and managing the play list of music. Gayler is drunk, or at least close to it.
Trying to be cool with the party talk, I ask Gayler, after minutes of deliberating what to say without sounding like I’m in desperate need of alcohol, if he has tequila. So, with my newly rehearsed line I ask Gayler, “So, Hows the Tequila situation over here?” Score! Nailed it!. “You want some tequila man? Lets get you some Tequila.”
Gayler escorts me back to the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold out from his freezer. On the cutting board near his sink are two double shot glasses and a couple limes cut up and ready. All of a sudden Joanna is here, I’m not sure how she got here exactly, she may have came with me into Gayler’s, or she may have been passing through as this little exchange was going on. Gayler says that he’s had enough tequila for the night and offers the second shot to Joanna. Joanna, being the person she is, takes it because I mean come on, who could deny Gayler, and because of her scary school girl like crush on him. Gayler counts down holding his Corona in the air and Joanna and I raise the shot glasses to our lips. He Drunkenly yells out, “GO!” and I down the double shot without hesitation. It goes down, pretty smooth thanks to it being cold (I think I can drink more when it’s cold because one, alcohol is always better cold, and two, because all those nights drinking warm tequila and aristoshit in the dorms has trained me for this). I knock my head back, get every last drop out. When I’m back down on earth I look over at Joanna and Gayler. Joanna didn't take her shot. So me and him, being the people we are, egg her on and tell her to take her shot. We’re giving her outlandish reasons, “There are sober children in Africa” or “You not drinking makes babies cry.” So she says she’ll take the shot as long as I take another with her. Myself, being the lush I am, joyously agree and pour another shot. Theres a countdown again, someone shouts Gayler’s name, he turns around.
(the following happens in slow motion): the second Gayler’s gaze is in the other direction, she lowers the shot from her mouth, I look over at her with the shot breaching my lips with the expression of, “Are you fucking serious”. She extends her arm across the kitchen towards the sink, I look at her, mid-shot, with a look that can only be translated as, “NOO!”, the look of shock as an accident is right about to happen. JOANNA POURS HER SHOT DOWN THE DRAIN, and I finish my shot. (Back to regular speed)
Gayler turns back around and Joanna is smiling her pretty face off. I look back at her and just give her a disapproving headshake as she rambles on with some excuse.
Trying to make my way through the crowd was like trying to thread a chair through the eye of a needle. I pushed and excused my way through the crowd using the drink raised overhead in front of me acting as a beacon through the sea of people technique, seeing familiar and unfamiliar faces along the way. It was hot, with the combination of alcohol, people, and the jacket I’m wearing, it feels like a sauna in the apartment.
Finally, I step onto the porch in the front of the building. The crowd was separated, one on the left and one on the right, the center was relatively clear, except for a couple of people. One pairing was Ryan and Casin, the two roommates from my building, lived 4 doors down from me. They were regulars at Gayler’s place and it wasn't uncommon to run into them here. I’ve never really talked to them before, and hey, it's the end of the semester, I’ve got a couple drinks in me, they probably have double in them, why not make friends.
I go up next to Ryan and lean on the handrail. We’re all looking down at grace street and the surrounding area. I’m not exactly sure how we started talking to each other, but it may have happened in any of the following scenarios;
1. I turn to Ryan and say hey, nothing fancy, just a simple hey.
2. Ryan turns to me and says hey, again, nothing fancy.
3. Either one of use ask each other for a light, however neither of us are smoking.
4. This is probably the most likely reason we started talking, and coincidentally, the most unbelievable, unless you were there. We’re both leaning on the handrail when I hear, “Hey, I’m BAM!” I turn around and BAM, is offering a handshake to some girl on the outside futon. “Hi, Bam,” the girl responds in the cute girl way that has the way of subtly hinting, “Hey, I’m trying to get laid,” without going to the length of being a whore. BAM, not satisfied with her dulcet response insists that, “NO, My name is BAM!” She, laughs until she notices that he’s dead serious and grabs his hand again. “Hey BAM!” He smiles and relishes in his triumph (BAM, if you don’t know, is also a regular at Gayler’s and Will’s, next door neighbor, shares the porch, parties. As you can tell, he is pretty loud). BAM makes his way over to Ryan and Casin. “Hey I’m BAM!” Ryan and Casin both shake his hand and respond like most people do “BAM! Wassup man!” He turns to me, “Hey man, how you been?” Holy shit, he remembers me. “Sup BAM.” No exclamation mark, ‘cause we cool like that.
BAM grabs my shoulder and turns me toward Ryan and Casin, “Hey have you met this guy?!” (I added an exclamation mark, because he tends to yell) Ryan and Casin both respond yeah and Ryan goes on to say, “Yeah man that's Iric, he’s cool.”
Ryan and I are talking, about what we had to drink and the whole situation of the world and all. I offer him a sip of my drink which is about halfway down, with a gigantic strawberry floating dead center. He in exchange, gives me his whole beer. While he’s sipping on that I finish up his beer and he offers to get me a beer over at Will’s, since he has a keg. I say that's ok, and then turn to lean my back against the rail. Steve comes over to me and says that he and the rest of the guys plus Joanna are going to do something, I barely make out what he says through the crowd. Before I can respond he’s bounding back into Gayler’s apartment then out of sight. I turn back to Ryan, he shrugs his shoulders, and I make my way back to the first party.
I’m moving through the crowd at Gayler’s, get side tracked when BAM introduces me to more people, then finally make it into the kitchen. From the kitchen I go onto the crowded fire escape that connects the two apartments into the first party.
Remember how I said the sight sucked when I first entered? It sure has changed. The place was full, full of theater students, I could tell because I have seen some of them in the theater productions. I look around trying to find Steve and the rest with no luck. I happen to find the person who I supposedly know and ask him if he knew where they went. He responded with, “Yeah they just left.” I stood there for a second. In the background was top 40 rock music, someone yells out “We’re out of paint can now its just beer.” I move over to the wall and take up my residency next to the drink table.
“We’re out of beer now its just Tequila.”
[more to come]
__________________________________
on a completely different topic, On the "cool new friends" part on my myspace page I saw a picture of someone familiar, and I took a screencap so I would come back to it later and figure out who it reminded me of, lo and behold here it is.
July 10, 2006
Cinco de WASTED: The First Party
The night started out how any party night started, I think, us getting ready by playing a round of Halo and wondering where we are going to head out to. This night we had an extra member in this rag tag group that formed over the semester. There were the normal faces; Me, Steve, Nick, BLT, and Eddie. Then there was the special guest appearance by Miss Longwood Sorority girl Joanna. Steve told me about a party thrown by friends of his from high school. I’ve met them once, don't remember them well, but I’ll remember if I see them, I think. I do remember that their names are typical “every-names”, something WASPy. For some reason I arrived at the party later than the others in my group, or earlier, all I know is that we didn't show up at the same time. The way over there was easy, they lived in the same building that the awkward Gayler “party” took place, plus it was a frequent party spot to begin with.
I enter into the party, the scene was, let me put this gently, the scene sucked. A few people sitting on the couch. A couple in the drink area, and I was greeted by someone scanning me with their “radar”. I make my way over to Steve and Joanna and make myself look occupied. The party was sparse. 3 year old top 40 music was playing on the radio and there was a table with a paint can and some cups.
Joanna was talking, a lot, she does that often. I was looking past her to the window behind her as she goes on about how something or other is annoying, or that she liked it, I don't know. Out the window I could see a decent crowd of people, attractive people, chatting laughing and having a good time.
I go over to the table where the drinks are being served. The guy I supposedly
knew is serving drinks. “How are ya doin?” He’s wearing a sleeveless black tee. And a bandana, I think.
“Good, could be a bit better.” He hands me a cup filled to the brim with a deep crimson juice and with fruits floating in it. I sip, its sweet, with a bite. Back in the group with Joanna and Steve I keep sipping at my drink. Joanna keeps urging Steve to take the drink from her. I make out “Its too strong,” through the many noises in the room. Steve replies, “Of course, its Everclear.”
Hmm, Everclear? This isn’t as bad as they make it out to be, even though it is 190 proof and all. I pace around the scene, watching two guys fight on rolling chairs, the people in the kitchen passing around “Drunk Watermelon”, and a steady stream of people roll in. Among those people are BLT, Nick, Eddie, and Volpe. They join our group and we stand around and talk the normal talk we do.
They begin talking about something I don’t remember, so I turn away and start assessing the situation again. The party size has doubled and I am now standing uncomfortably close to a guy I barely know. He’s uncomfortable too, I can see in the way he looks over, then down to his shoes, then over again. I introduce myself, or at least say hi, but its drowned out in the commotion and the situation is still awkward. I notice my cup is empty so I go for a refill, but the table is unmanned.
I fill up my cup halfway and drink it down. My face is warm, damn this works fast. Steve comes over to me and asks if I’m ok, a way to gauge the rate of inebriation. I say I’m fine, and he adds in that I have a very obvious “Asian Glow,” great, not only do I barely know anyone in this party, I’m this close to being wasted in front of complete strangers. They crack open another paint can and I fill my cup to the brim.
[more to come]
July 07, 2006
Cinco de WASTED: Preface
Any who, my party experiences varied from the loud dance parties held at Kobe, to that one awkward time at Gayler’s place (if we can even define that as a party), each party was an experience.
Cinco De Mayo was never really a big deal for me, probably be cause I have never done anything for it other than wear a sombrero and maybe go out for some Mexican food, i. e. Taco Bell (I know, its not real Mexican, but who can resist the chalupa?). I did a lil bit o’ research on the subject and according to wikipedia.org, “Cinco de Mayo celebrates the legendary Battle of Puebla, Mexico on May 5, 1862 in which a Mexican force of 4,500 men faced 6,000 men of the ominous and well trained forces of Napoleon III's French Army. The battle lasting all of four hours ended in a moral and physical victory for the Mexican Army under the 33 year old General Ignacio Zaragoza.” Well isn’t that interesting, what a great excuse for us to get shit-faced and decorate our apartments with bright reds greens and whites and streamers and sombreros and kegs and the party staple, the red solo cups.
[more to come]
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