I was feeling a little rebellious this past weekend, a little adventurous. So, I took a challenge and stepped out of my comfort zone by reacquainting myself with my freshman year of college. No, I didn’t make out with a dude on a futon, and no I didn’t burn my Easy-Mac in the microwave and induce a 4:30 AM fire alarm.
I went to a house party.
And I’m alive to tell the story!
It had been about 2 years since attending my last house party and while standing amongst a large cluster of shirtless freshman dudes sweating and spinning their shirts in the air to the beat of Sean Kingston, I realized something. I am no rocket scientist (clearly, on account of my next statement), but house parties so different than the bar. You would think they would be the same – drunk people standing around – but there’s something (maybe it’s the open keg at house parties that encourages half-naked mosh pits in the living room?) that sets these two party scenes miles apart:
House Party: Unlimited alcohol. This means kegs to tap, red cups to grab, and Evian bottles filled with…er….not water….to pull out of your purse and pass around. There is no doubt the blood alcohol level is averaging significantly higher than any established place on campus. It is just that much easier to get tipsy at a house party, and stay tipsy not remember a minute of your night.
Bar: $10 dollars for a Long Island? How to people expect anyone to get drunk around here if you have to pay your left leg for a watered down rail drink? And everyone is so busy standing in line for the bathroom (thanks to those melted ice cubes), no one really has time to get rowdy.
House Party: House parties make clothes come off. Seriously, I don’t know if it is the 80 games of beer pong or the overly crowded, steamy living room, but before you know it, guys are whipping their shirts off and dancing like their late night hook up depends on it.
Bar: Maybe it has something to do with the law (no shirt, no pants, no watered-down vodka tonic?), but the clothes aren’t coming off.
House Party: Conversations usually don’t span past drunken chants of “CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!”
Bar: Semi-intellectual conversations abound: “So…what’s your major?” and “OMG, look at the line for the bar.”
House Party: One minute everyone’s standing around looking for the one person they know, the next every girl in the room is wearing a guy’s piece of clothing, be it a flat brimmed hat or their jersey they tore off mid-50 Cent chorus. It’s getting hot in herrrre, so put on someone else’s clothes?
Bar: Again, getting nakey in the bar is just not OK. Especially according that that very big bouncer staring angrily at you across the room.
House Party: All you need is a flash of a smile and the big dude with the bigger muscles will pump that ice cold beer into your Solo cup, no matter how many times you ask. (Editor’s Note: is it just me, or does that sound gross?)
Bar: After you stand behind a crowd of bar drinkers (seriously, can’t they just get their drink and go?!), elbow your way to the front and literally wave your cash in the air until that “hot” bartender in the low-cut top glances your way, you get an overpriced rum and Diet that tastes too much like diet and not enough like rum.
House Party: Three letters: P.D.A.
Bar: Two words: bathroom stall.
Honestly, it’s like a whole different world out there in House Party-ville and I’m not sure if I love or hate it. Or if I even really remember it. Or who’s lacrosse jersey I slept in last night. All I know is campus party destinations are most definitely not created equal.