Have you ever begun a night of drinking knowing that you would probably vomit? The Lush sure has. For some reason, getting together with my friends from high school produces an inordinate amount of these nights.
Saturday night, I headed over to Boston College to meet up with my three best friends from high school. Rebecca, Caitlin, and the Lush converged on my cousin Melissa's room like the Perfect Storm, the finest drinkers of Providence College, Holy Cross, BC and Tufts uniting as one. It was clear that the night would be ridiculous based solely on my company. Let's just say that if anyone at Tufts thinks the Lush is wild, she is widely considered the goody-two-shoes of this group.
There's something amazing about visiting a college other than your own. You have the freedom to be a completely ridiculous, belligerent (if that's your style), drunken fool without any social consequences whatsoever. At your own school, bad decisions have so many more costs than they do when the roommates, fellow partiers, RAs and campus police officers are not your own.
When visiting, however, you get in, get drunk, raise hell, and go home. And your friends from high school will still love you anyway. Otherwise they'll have no one to sit with at reunions.
By the time we went to dinner at about 9 p.m., we had already been through just about every drinking card game in the book, and the Lush was downright silly. I place the blame for this fact squarely on Melissa's boyfriend Ben, who is a serious stickler when it comes to making sure you drink every last second that you have earned in drinking games.
For dinner, we went to Roggie's, which is the quintessential BC bar/restaurant. We were, without a doubt, "those girls," a fact helped by the three pitchers we had with dinner. The Lush took particular enjoyment from the chili cheese fries. I also tried to befriend the table next to us, a group of 30-somethings celebrating a broom hockey tournament victory (way cool, huh?), but they did not seem interested in being my friend.
I would tell you more about Roggie's, because it is a great place and you should all check it out, but I was too fixated on the cheese fries and the waitress's sparkly earrings to make any witty observations.
Upon returning to campus, we headed straight for the Mods, where Ben and his roommates were throwing a party. (For those unfamiliar, the Mods, or Modulars, were condo-esque temporary housing put up in the '60s that never got torn down. Now they house seniors and a lot of parties.)
The ways one might take advantage of the social freedom provided by a visit to another school are many and varied. For some, it means getting some anonymous ass. For others, perhaps, it means getting so drunk that you mistake the corner of a common room for a bathroom. Or so I've heard from reputable sources.
For the Lush that night, it meant very nearly throwing down. Tip to all BC sophomore girls: Do not, under any circumstances, push the Lush when she has been drinking for six hours.
Ben gets superstar status for stepping in and preventing me from actually fighting this girl. I swear her aggression was unprovoked, but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me. Rumor has it I am a belligerent drunk
The Mod party ran out of beer relatively early. Luckily, someone had the genius idea to hide a 30 upstairs, and we kept on rolling. I took it upon myself to act as unofficial bouncer with Caitlin, telling freshmen they couldn't come in "because I didn't like the look of them."
Even without the near-fight, the Lush did not escape the night unscathed. I somehow got caught in the middle of some sort of wrestling match. I think it was over pizza, although I don't remember exactly how it happened. I know it did, because Melissa took pictures and I have the bruises to prove it.
When we finally headed home at about 3 a.m., the trip took longer than expected; the Lush had to stop for a chat with a BCPD officer. Turns out they don't appreciate people peeing behind cars on their campus.
Don't judge; you've all been there. And I didn't actually do it; I was just thinking about it. By the way, saying, "It's okay, it's my friend's car," does not, in fact, make it okay.
So where's the point in all this? Why has the Lush foolishly sacrificed the very anonymity that made this weekend so great by blowing up her own spot and telling you all this?
This weekend gave me a new appreciation for those I have witnessed visiting our own campus in the past, who, due to their own ridiculous behavior, have been subject to my habitual eye-rolling and general disgust. It would be impossible for me to judge such visitors after this weekend. And neither should you. Embrace them...then go to their school and pay them back.
And just for the record, the Lush did not actually vomit this weekend. Ben and Melissa saved the day with pancakes and bacon, although I confess, it was touch-and-go for most of Sunday.
...and Monday.
