Hey out there interwebs!  It’s your favorite drunken shit-show, back for another edition of me writing about my crazy life.  This weeks story is actually a request from one of the primary figures in it, my good friend Adam.  So without any further ado, let’s get the ball rolling…

It would be a bald-faced lie to say that I haven’t taken advantage of the socializing opportunities that college has provided me.  By virtue of not only living in Madison, but also associating with a crowd of known inebriates, I am rarely lacking an opportunity to go out and have a rip-roaring time.  This is all well and good, but even I occasionally have to give in to ‘manifest destiny’ and take to the roads in search of new lands in which to debauch myself.  Luckily enough, a good handful of my friends attended college at the same time as I did, but at a different school.  This is an optimal situation, as it allows you to form a sort of symbiotic relationship which enhances the experience of both parties.  Pay attention any future collegians out there, cause here comes the science.

Obviously out of high school, everyone wants to go to college with all your bestest friends…it’s a standard trope in any ‘coming of age’ high school film.

Don't worry guys, it'll be alright

Not going to the same college leads to no end of depression and angst.  This should not be the case.  Unless you’re some sort of socially maladjusted weirdo, (not that there’s anything wrong with that), you’ll make new friends in college.  You’ll party/rage/get in no end of trouble with these friends, but you won’t forget your older friends.  Thus, you’ll have to go visit them.  This works out great, as you’ll be able to explore new and exciting bars/parties while still having a place to crash at the end of the night.  Obviously the reverse is true as well, and your friends will come visit you, setting the Circle of Party in endless motion.  But enough generalizations, let’s get to the meat and potatoes.

I buzzed up to visit some of my good friends at UWSP semi-regularly and had countless wonderful experiences because of it.  This particular time was early in my collegiate career, 2002 or 2003 if memory serves me.  I had gone up for a weekend of mayhem, and a number of my other friends had came into town as well, so it was a regular high school reunion.  Think, Saved By the Bell: The College Years, but with lots more reckless underage drinking.  We partied in the dorms for a good while, as any good under-ager will do, and then decided to head out and hit up a house party.  That’s unquestionably one of the ways in which Point differs from Madison, in that certain houses are ‘Party Houses’, and will usually be throwing a party on a set schedule.  Thus, without having to know anyone who actually lives there, 19 and 20 year olds who don’t have fake IDs still have an outlet in which to binge drink to their heart’s content.

Suitably lubricated and getting a little too rowdy to be in the dorms, we headed out to get ourselves some cheap beer in red cups.  We were walking over to Reserve, which I believe is where the party was, but when we got close, our night started to crumble in front of our eyes.  Time and alcohol have dimmed some of my past memories, so in the interests of being completely honest, I’ll admit I can’t remember exactly why the party was shut down.  If memory serves, it was either that they had run out of beer, the cops had busted them, or that they simply weren’t throwing that night.  Perhaps one of the other miscreants in our group who reads these could fill in the details better via a comment.  Regardless of how it happened, however, our plans for the night were effectively shattered.

Wait, my party sense is tingling

There we were; young, drunk, and without a place to continue down that path of youthful indiscretion.  We wandered shell-shocked through the streets, searching desperately for another one of the usual party houses with something going on, but all our efforts came to naught.  We decided to pack it in for the night and head back to the dorms.  That’s when Adam suddenly displayed a skill that I never knew he possessed.

We were walking down a darkened residential street somewhere in the Stevens Point residential district near campus.  It’s after midnight, and understandably every house is completely darkened and silent.  I can’t stress this enough, the street was effectively deserted except for our small, motley group trudging dejectedly.  Suddenly, Adam came to a dead stop, cocked his head sideways and loped off towards one of the houses.  If you’ve ever partied with him, you’ll know that this behavior isn’t really outside the norm for him, so we didn’t think much of it until he went to a side door, opened it, and walked in.  Now we didn’t know what to do…had we just witnessed our drunken friend break into someone’s house?  This is not the sort of situation that a group of young people under the influence are equipped to deal with.  As we huddled together and tried to come up with a plan, or at least to get our alibis straight, Adam came back out and waved us over.  We tentatively headed over and he said, “These guys said it’s cool, we can party with them.”

Completely flabbergasted is probably the best way I could describe my state of mind as we walked into this house.  Somehow, using some sort of ESPP (Extra-Sensory Party Perception), Adam had managed to locate a party out of veritable thin air.  Speaking of thin air, the atmosphere inside the house was anything but.  We had stumbled upon a veritable clambake, as somehow they had sealed the house off completely from the outside, (probably why there was no visible signs of partying), and a smoky haze completely filled the air.  Now I, for one, have always passed on grass, much to the disappointment of my good friend, Boo.  That being said, I don’t hold some sort of holier-than-thou attitude towards it.  If other people want to partake, that’s cool with me, I’ve always simply said that I’m more than capable of getting completely fucked up solely on alcohol.  With that attitude in mind, my friends and I planted ourselves near the keg in the basement and proceed to powerchug for a while.  Standard stuff really, catching up with my buddies, drinking, and generally having a fantastic time.  At some point we decided it was time to pack it in and head back to the dorms.

These guys rock at getting people out of jams, but could they find a sweet party?

There were about 5 of us crashing in Slip and Adam’s dorm room, which like any dorm room you’ve been in was not exactly spacious.  Nonetheless, we all got situated and tried to pass out for the night.  Tried to being the operative phrase, as we proceeded to engage in some middle school girls slumber party level of giggling and talking.  After about the twelfth time we all broke down in convulsive laughter, Slip made the astute observation, “Holy shit, we’re all high as shit right now!”  This obviously took me completely by surprise, but after considering it for a hazy drunken minute, it made a lot of sense.  Smoke rises, and my height had basically kept my head in the clouds all night.  Giggling quietly to myself with that knowledge spinning around in my addled head, I drifted off to black-out land.

And there we are, scientific proof that Adam has some sort of mental powers regarding party location.  He’s like the A-team of having a good time…’If you need a party, if no one else can help, and if you can find him, maybe you can hire… The Adam-Team’.  Trust me on this one, it was kinda spooky in an awesome way.  But in any event, that wraps up another one of my rambling stories.  Hope I was able to do it justice, Adam.  Peace out, bitches.