I was going to kill someone. Loud music emanated around the room so loud that I could feel the beat in my chest, but it was nowhere near as shrill as the laughter of the drunk girl sitting next to me. She kept touching me like we hadn't just met five minutes ago and kept singing the wrong verses to the songs followed by a bout of giggling.
No one told me that the only way to actually enjoy a fraternity party was to be super drunk so the sheer idiocy wouldn't register.
"I don't know about you, but this is the best party I've ever been to," she slurred. She tried to stand herself up from her spot on the worn leather couch, but ended up falling onto the floor. She giggled and added, "Awesome."
I was momentarily torn between helping her out and taking a picture on my iPhone of the stupid drunk girl who molested me to share with the world. My good nature kicked in, but I was too late. Random drunk girl had crawled across the shag carpet to random drunk guy in a tie-dyed tee-shirt and draped herself across his lap . It seemed the natural evolution of a party like this. There would always be kegs of beer, stupid drinking games, disco balls and random drunks to find one another across a dirty carpet.
It turned out that college parties, like most other things in life, were highly overrated. I wasn't sure what I had expected when I had agreed to come. Maybe it was just the idea of being a junior in high school sneaking off to a college party with her ne'er-do-well friends, but I had been intrigued by the thought of hot guys who could talk to you about politics as easily as quote the latest South Park episode. Unfortunately, the guys at this party seemed incapable of any conversation beyond a basic grunt for more beer.
This had been a huge mistake. When Megan texted me with the information, sneaking out to a college party had seemed like a good idea, a way to get myself out of the rut of high school and never feeling quite right in my own skin. It would be one of those things that I could one day wax philosophical about as I remembered how much fun I had and what I learned about myself. Maybe it would even be like a scene from a stupid teen movie where I meet the great love of my life over a game of quarters.
Instead, I had nearly been thrown up on twice, my friend had ditched me for the promise of a game of darts, and my father the career military ninja, was going murder me when I came home reeking of pot and beer.
"Jamie, there you are!" Megan squealed as she came down the stairs with a shirtless frat boy in tow. She stumbled toward me - good thing I didn't believe her when she said she'd be the designated driver - and wrapped her arms around my neck from behind the couch. She petted my head, god only knew why, and said, "Aren't you glad we came? I'm glad we came! This is Travis!"
Shirtless frat boy grinned at me and winked. "Hey."
I rolled my eyes. College boys were almost worst than the guys in my class. I tapped my watch and said, "We need to go or we're going to be in trouble."
Megan continued to pet my head. "Nah. It's cool. We've got time. And Travis has a friend for you."
Travis winked again and said, "I do."
"Gee, thanks, but we really need to go. Both Megan and I have really overprotective fathers. And mine is legally allowed to shoot people."
"Cool."
I stood up and made my way around the couch until I could wrap my arm around Megan. She giggled and said, "Jamie is always so serious."
"Yep. That's me," I said. I began to try to move us toward the door, but Travis-the-loser-frat-boy kept getting in my way. I glared at him and said, "Move."
"My friend really liked you. And I like Megs. We can have fun."
"I feel like I'm trapped in a very special episode of a sitcom," I replied. I grunted as I pushed past Travis and dragged Megan the remainder of the way out of the frat house. I wasn't sure how college parties got the reputation for being cool, but this was one experience I could cross off my life list.
Megan waved back toward the house to no one as I guided her down the sidewalk. She shook her head and said, "Party pooper."
"You're never allowed to talk me into some 'important rite of passage' again. This sucks."
Megan pried free of my grip and almost crashed to the ground. I managed to snake my arm back around her before she faceplanted into the concrete and pulled her back up. Megan laughed and then her face quickly drained of color and she frowned. "Jamie, why is that tree upside down?"
"Oh man. The only life lesson I'm getting out of this is a long lecture from my dad when I drag your sorry ass back into my house."
"Your dad is hot. I'd totally date him."
"That's gross and mentally scarring."
"It's a compliment. You come from hot stock."
"Please stop talking. I'm already reconsidering our friendship," I commented. It felt like we had been walking forever, but we had only gotten a few yards from the house. I peered down the street to wear Megan's car was parked and cursed under my breath.
Megan rested her head on my shoulder, putting even more of her weight on me, and said, "Don't be silly. We've been friends forever. Nothing can come between us!"
I nodded because there really wasn't anything else to say. I wanted to hate her, but I mostly hated myself for getting into this situation in the first place. I used to be smarter than this.
Once we reached her car, there was another ordeal to pull the keys out of her jacket pocket and get Megan situated in the passenger seat. I slid into the driver's seat and glanced at the dashboard. I groaned and rested my head against the steering wheel. This was just not my night.
Note to self #2: Learn how to drive stick shift.
2 comments:
Owwww. I'm thinking she figures it out on the fly. Clutch in. Clutch in. Ease it out. I felt the tension most keenly when she was trying to extricate herself (and Megan) from the party. I was worried it would get very bad then. So the inability to get the car started was a huge relief.
heh, maybe it's on one of those "Things To Do Once So You Never Do Them Ever Again" lists...
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