Wednesday, April 23, 2014

The ONE Party I Went To...

Let it be known that I am not a partier and I choose the outings I attend very carefully because of it.

This story takes place during my upperclassmen days of college. It's probably the sole reason I didn't attend future parties.

The party in question was one that took place only two blocks from my apartment, and was strictly advertised as a NON alcoholic party. For the most part it was... more on that later. Since the entrance fee for the party was going to a part of our music school my roommate, a good friend, and I decided to attend.

It was my very first and last party.

The party started out innocently enough. We had walked to save on parking and ensure a quick get -a-way if needed. So by the time we arrived the party was already in full swing. Lots of dancing, lots of glow sticks, LOTS of heat. It was really hot from everybody dancing in a small space, so many trips out for fresh air were needed.  We really enjoyed ourselves in our little safe corner dancing and glow sticking away.

On one trip outside for fresh air we noticed a friend trying to enter the party, severely under the influence. SEVERELY. I guess since alcohol wasn't allowed they decided to bring it the only way they could...completely bonded with their blood stream.

We had only stepped out for a little fresh air, but decided to stay outside a little longer to talk to people where we could actually hear them. After a while it was time to either go back in, or leave the party for the night. It was at this time my EXTREMELY germaphobic roommate was reaching for the door handle.  That's when everything went wrong.

Oh so very wrong....

Little did she know just inches away on the other side of the door was our very inebriated friend starting to feel the liquor she imbibed. As soon as the door opened the chunks flew. I mean that literally. My roommate narrowly missed an encounter with exorcist style vomit. Our friend had just made it out the door, slung her head over the railing, and started throwing up from the second floor balcony onto a misfortuned bicyclist's mode of travel.

It was time to go.

We braved our way back in long enough to  grab our coats and make a hasty escape. Not taking for granted our near miss with certain disaster. Afterwards we spent the rest of the night in the comfort of the apartment (far away from flying chunks of fast food and hard liquor) watching movies and having a much better time.

Moral of the story:

If your aren't a partier, don't party. People don't actually know the meaning of "limits."
Always be prepared for projectile vomit...always.
Life is better with friends who leave the party with you.

I know that all parties are not like this, but it was a scarring experience for me. I have yet to want to try again. Do you have any scarring party stories to share? Tell me about them in the comments.

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