While I was in West Virginia last weekend my parents took me out for a grand tour of the area. I mean, I grew up there and know it like the back o’ my hand, but things change a little here and a little there. And we always go out in the car and just drive around. This would make some people insane, I realize, but I don’t mind it. It’s pleasant time spent with my folks. In any case, when we were in Dunbar we went past a house where my friend Rocky and I introduced alcohol into some kind of ludicrous no-alcohol party. This was in high school, a million years ago, but that house will always remind me of that night of high-craziness.
I’ve told the story many times, so I’ll just summarize it now. Rocky dragged me to this thing because he was hot for some girl who was going to be there. When we walked in people were playing backgammon and drinking soda and listening to a novelty song based on the Who Shot J.R.? craze. I told you it was a long time ago… But we walked into this nerd jubilee and I think I audibly blurted, “What the fuck?!” There were fedoras and a sheet cake… It was hard for my brain to process what was happening before me. What is this, My Three Sons?
But Rocky set off on his mission to woo some young lass, and I just wandered around absorbing the “Why is he here?!” looks that were being hurled my way. And within seconds, Rocky was back and agitated. Apparently his mission had failed, in an accelerated fashion. “Let’s go get some beer,” he said. You told me this is a no-alcohol party, I reminded him. Screw that, he replied.
Fast forward an hour or two and the place was rocking. People were filing in at a steady clip, more and more alcohol appeared, the Who Shot J.R.? record was ripped from the turntable and flung behind a chair, replaced by Molly Hatchet. And Rocky went wild. I’ll bullet-point his most memorable antics:
- He repeatedly locked himself in bathrooms, refusing to come out. I was enlisted to convince him to open the door. Why was he doing this? Who the hell knows?
- Without provocation he wound up like freaking Catfish Hunter and hurled a slice of pizza against a kitchen wall. The “Italian fastball” as it came to be known. It stuck there for a second or two, then slid down in a big greasy streak.
- He rifled through the host’s underwear and bra drawer.
- He took a majestic arcing piss off the second-floor deck, in the direction of the now-displaced nerds huddled in the backyard.
In addition, there was a wig (belonging to the host’s mother?) that ended up in a toilet and pissed upon (and through) by dozens of people, and my friend Bill hid many empty beer cans all over the house — down inside boots, behind the soup cans in the pantry, inside toilet tanks, etc. I have no doubt they were finding them 10 years later, reminders of the no-alcohol party.
The parents made some phone calls the next day, and I got into some low-grade trouble because of that night. But I didn’t really do anything, except help bring in that first batch of beer. Rocky, on the other hand, was grounded for a long, long time. Heh. The man was unleashed!
What’s the craziest things you’ve witnessed at a party? Tell us about it, won’t you? I’ll leave the comments open for a while, but please no politics, OK? Just tell us about the ridiculousness you’ve seen at parties. We don’t need any of that other stuff.
I was also at a so-called “attic party” in Greensboro many years ago and a big fight broke out, like something off TV. It was wild! During the process a glass coffee table was shattered into about 10,000 pieces, and I high-tailed it out of there. Craziness. People were throwing haymakers.
What do you have on this subject? Please bring us up to date on it.
And I’ll see you guys again soon!
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