100 Proof Vodka & High School Friends

One weekend when I was a frosh back in the dorms, two of my friends from high school came up to visit. Since my best guy friend lived in my dorm with me, as well as my current boyfriend, it was going to be a pretty sweet night out on campus.

None of us were unfamiliar with drinking, nor drinking with liquor, so we did not hesitate at all to start pounding shots with Wreck's (the best guy friend) Absolut. My boy even pulled out some Kool-Aid mix to make the bite less harsh. Great idea.

By the time we left about an hour and a half later, the bottle (a handle, at that) was gone.

We walk about 8 blocks and I'm trying to point out my sorority house, but I can't make out which house it is (there were only about 5 to pick from, 5 very large houses with huge greek letters on the side - not a tough task).

We finally get to the party, which was probably about another 6 blocks away. As soon as we got there, the girls and I are dying to pee so we run upstairs to the bathroom. I'm absolutely appalled that there is only one toilet and decide the proper punishment for such a house would be to pee in the sink. Classy, I know.

We go back downstairs, Jo runs off to drink with her 'boys' while I suppose the rest of us were just obnoxious (I can't imagine I went back to classy, just being realistic). After a little while (no idea how long), Jo comes back to mingle with the original friends and she passes out in Min & Wreck's arms. While they are cracking up about how her head can be smashed off of the sidewalk without any disagreement from her, I'm busy telling my boy how tired I am and I pass out on the neighbor's air conditioning unit. This prompts the three more responsible drinkers to find a ride back to our dorm to take us two idiots back.

I wake up towards the end of the car ride, and decide I've had enough of these shenanigans, I'm peacing out. I open the door, to the moving vehicle, and somehow make it out without killing myself. Luckily, we were at the corner where my dorm was located, so I didn't have far to crawl. I make it off of the sidewalk and decide a nap is in order. The rest of the crew reluctantly scrapes me up off of the ground and argues me into the dorm where they begin recruiting help to transport Jo and myself to the third floor. One of the few people in the dorm that I felt genuinely disliked me volunteered to help me to my bed. I was slightly more agreeable at this point, but still not beyond acting like a complete ass.

In the elevator, I go limp (obviously tired as I did not get my much needed nap in the lawn). I continue this fun act until I get right in front of my RA's door. That's when I deem it wildly uncomfortable in my jeans and tank top (no bra, mind you) and discard both items in lightning speed. This leaves me stumbling to my room practically in just underwear. In a thong. In front of a crowd of people that have been enjoying the show with clothes on. This is a girl who has never even heard of the word class.

They get me into the bed, and Brooks, my volunteer angel, tucks me and Jo in while the other three do God knows what. (I'd like to believe they went out and had fun, but I know they did not since I still hear complaints 4 years later.) I wake up about 3 hours later to find my boy watching How to Lose a Guy, so I leave to much on pretzels and laugh at a ridiculous loudness for morning hours in the hall. I'm still wasted and will not hear of why I have no clothes on. I'm convinced that my boy just tried to get with me and will not hear of any stripping.

The next morning, I get up in a great mood and head downstairs with the gang to eat breakfast in the commons. We're laughing about the fun times of the night before - Jo going shot for shot with a guy two times her size, her puking down her shirt, me screaming about my name brand pillows being offered to my drunk friend, us catching a ride from a coke head, you know, the usual. Brooks walks up and says he's shocked to see me at the table, he's sure I'd be dead to the world for days. He also comments on what a polite drunk I am. I was so kind as to even let him know when I needed to yak. How charming. And where the hell was my boyfriend when all of this was going on?!?!

Anyways, I love my friends. Anyone who can not abandon me after stunts like that is A-OK in my book. They even pulled pepperoni out of Jo's bra from the pizza she puked up. They haven't come back to party yet... But I think the feeling's mutual.