14. This is Supposed to be Fun?

Not wanting to seem like a stuck-up hermit, I agreed the first weekend after moving in at school to go partying with my roommate. Now, I hadn’t decided to give drinking a try. Call me boring, (ok, I am pretty boring) but getting tanked honestly has never held any appeal to me. I did think it might be exciting – or enlightening, at least – to check out this legendary undergraduate experience known as the frat party.

My roommate had gotten a personal invite from an old friend, and called to verify that I could come along. It was no problem, I was completely welcome… so long as we brought lots of freshman girls with us. Not wanting to anger the frat guys and wanting even less to anger the females, we stopped to pick up a group of girls on the way; my roommate’s high school friends and some new acquaintances of theirs. From there we walked to the party in one giant mass, a slow process since the group now contained a number of done-up young women wearing fancy shoes.

After a long walk we came to an intersection at the edge of campus. We could hear the party as soon as we saw it. There was a crowd of what looked like hundreds, overflowing from the house into the front yard. A small number of people were dancing on the front porch and there were many more inside, visible through a bay window.

Nervousness set in at this point. How would upperclassmen treat a horde of annoying, trespassing, measly freshmen? Maybe they would act like animals, making a big show and yelling at us when we came in. If not that, someone surely would notice I wasn’t drinking. Maybe when I rejected their beer, they would point and laugh and throw spiky things at me.

While these fears were real, they were nothing gigantic. Whatever happened, the situation was relatively safe and at any rate God would take care of me. Bottom line: the only way to find out was to go in, and there was no turning back now. And besides, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of somebody dying at a frat party from not drinking.

As we marched through the front door we got a mix of indifferent and nasty looks. Only new students traveled in such large groups. “Arrggh, freshmen” seemed to be the thought penetrating the air, but soon everyone forgot and most of the people became agreeable. My roommate quickly found the fraternity brother who had invited us.

He was surprisingly friendly, and appeared happy to see some of his old high school friends. We were introduced and I was heartily welcomed. Within our first minute inside the rest of my group (except the large share of girls who had turned back immediately after our victorious entrance) had drinks, but I was not harassed for remaining empty-handed.

We mingled for a little while, if that’s what you’d call shuffling around apologizing to persons much larger than yourself for bumping into them or being in the way. My roommate soon heard that a drinking game was underway in the back room, so he and his two lady-friends from home joined in. With nothing else to do, I shrunk back towards the wall and watched them get drunk (which didn’t take more than half an hour).

I tried to appear comfortable but was clearly out of place, and couldn’t resist the urge to stay on my toes in case of trouble. After all, I was the only person in a considerably large room who did not have a can or big plastic cup in his hand. I kept imagining what would happen if the clan of upperclassmen playing cards to my left decided they didn’t like the looks of me. Much to my relief, I never got to find out.

Later we ran into another of my roommate’s friends from high school, who was party-hopping with her roommate. They were in the process (yes, it can be a process) of deciding it was time to go, and were soon ready to move towards the next hot spot. As we stood on the front lawn waiting for the girls to come out from the restroom, I noticed a beam of light sweeping the grass nearby. One of the brothers in the fraternity was talking to an angry policeman maybe ten feet away from me, apologizing emphatically for the noise.

My roommate, who had been drinking for some time by this point, practically sprinted for the house when he noticed the cop. I followed him inside. There was no reason for me to flee, except that I would rather not take my chances around a cranky man with mace and a gun and far more power in court than any 18-year old – sober or not – at a frat party. On second thought, maybe I had every reason to get away from Mr. Policeman. Everyone inside was talking in hushed tones and those under 21 were scattering like small creatures from a T-Rex.

As you might guess, the appearance of a police officer (who stopped in to say hello by writing the fraternity a $200 fine for violating a city noise ordinance) killed that party with the speed of an atom bomb. The girls finally made their way out of the bathroom and we slipped away with the crowd while the frat brothers were still trying to avoid citation. For the most part, the remainder of our night was uneventful. We walked to another party that was pretty much the same except even more crowded, and then left soon after it became evident the beer was gone.

Everyone but me was determined to make the most of our night, so we stopped back at the house where the first party had died so quickly. My roommate wandered off to relieve himself while I stuck with the girls, who I followed upstairs with the frat guy we’d originally been invited by. The three of us sat around while we (and by we I mean the girls) talked to him and a couple other fratties who lived in the house. My roommate was not seen or heard from for the remainder of the night.

To my surprise, this part of the night was actually enjoyable. With no beer left and a much smaller crowd to impress, the frat guys were down to earth and fun to listen to. They were friendly and, contrary to the most extreme of my fears, hanging out with them certainly didn’t kill me. If I hadn’t been with two attractive girls I doubt I would have been treated the same, but that’s a whole different story.

What did I learn from my night? Drunk people are like me, except…well…drunk. For a number of reasons, many students view things differently than I do – leading to decision that, if you ask me, are not smart. Tonight also taught me that most drunks will leave you alone if you leave them alone. Alcohol is, after all, a sedative.

The differences between a drinking party and a non-drinking party? Well, if there is free beer you can bet many of the guests don’t know or care to know the hosts. And when you’re party hopping with drinking buddies, it’s hard to tell whether they’d care much if you were someone else. Otherwise, going to a party to get drunk is socially the same as going to an alcohol-free party.

Well, except it might be harder to carry on a meaningful conversation if you and most of the people around you are varying degrees of intoxicated. So what is the point of social drinking, again? If I wanted to stumble over my words and embarrass myself while meeting new people and shuffling through a mob, I’d rather do it on my own. Granted, I hate crowds anyway, but parties can be fun without the pretense and crutch of a big booze-filled cup.

I went to bed my first party night with a slightly better understanding of my generation. Seems like about 85% of University freshmen drink at least periodically. I think I’m correct in assuming that drinking is just a crappy way to loosen up, fit in, and “have fun.” My experience reminded me to feel blessed in having a sense of security that requires no mass approval.

Thank God for my near-indifference towards popular opinion and for the fact that I don’t mind being boring. Give me a few friends and a couple new people, and I will have a much better time than 290 sloppy freshmen packed into some muddy backyard. Plus, when I go out I don’t have to make a conscious effort not to fall down every time a police cruiser goes by.