maybe a new story by tonight@1 year ago
I'm Kyle, 18.
I'm using this blog as a way retell stories as they really happened, or at least as close as I can. I have a habit of telling everyone my life story, so I'm trying to write it out so I can save my breath.
maybe a new story by tonight@1 year ago
Flashback to Summer of Junior Year, a time where I was a lot friendlier with people who didn’t deserve my time. This story takes place at Drew’s house and the area nearby. We start our night off like any night when we drink at Drews, alcohol in the hot tub. I don’t know if it is scientifically proven or not, but drinking in a hot tub seriously fucks you up. You don’t realize how messed up you are until you get out, and we loved that. Gatorade and vodka, the ever present drink of guys that play soccer. We decided that after we dried off, it was a beautiful night to go down to the boat basin to “explore”. This idea seemed genius to the group of 4, and we went inside, dried off, and set off into the darkness.
At this point, none of us really had any true bearings or an idea how to get to the boat basin, despite it being straight down the road that Drew lives on. We decide to follow the cracks in the road, a novel idea. As we walk, cigars are lit. Ah, swisher grape, a taste that sticks in your mouth for hours after smoking. Ah, swisher strawberry, a flavor that in no way combines with grape but for some fucking reason Drew didn’t like his cigar so now I had two. Damn it. Walking along with a cigar in each hand, drunk as a skunk, we tread on. The road curved, as did we as we made the descent down the hill to the basin. The sound of the river drew us in as thousands of mosquitoes rained down to drain us of our very, very alcohol soaked veins. We made it.
We set down to set out our drinks as a huge realization was made. We forgot the mixers. We forgot the mixers. How could we forget something so vital? It was a long trek back, and none of us wanted to go back to retrieve the bottles of Gatorade. All but one decided it was a shitty idea. Hayes decided he could go get them. In fact, he was certain of his ability. The others didn’t share the same feeling.
"Don’t go, I saw this in a prophecy, you won’t make it"! Drew blurbed, his inebriated mind filling the gaps with bits and pieces of fantasy lore. His certainty disturbed us a little, he even mourned a bit after Hayes made his way up the hill.
Meanwhile my cigars are now little burning nubs in my fingers, reminding me of their presence by burning the absolute fuck out of my knuckles that gripped them so firmly. Ash fell away as I flinched from the burns, tobacco leaf burning a bright red. I thought to myself methods to explain the nice burns on my fingers. I couldn’t think of anything, but given the circumstances, It isn’t surprising.
I find a fishing pole, long discarded by some fisherman who had the misfortune of fishing in this excuse of a basin, long devoid of fish. I decide that this fishing pole is now a sword in my hands, and challenge the rest to a duel. Their pleas of safety fall upon deaf ears as I envision myself a fencer, swinging my foil with drunken precision. John falls victim first, but seeing him curl up into a ball quickly let me know that he was inferior, and I should be happy with my win. I toss my sword to the basin, lest anyone else try to match my skills with the blade.
At this point, Hayes has somehow made his way back to the basin. No one saw it coming, but he made it. Smile brimming wide, with an armful of drinks, he climbed down the hill and set the bounty down on the table. Here we were, somewhere between really fucked up and Amy Winehouse, about to continue our drinking spree. Our mixers are mixed, and we toast to the night. We don’t have long before Drew is puking, a red-orange mixture of fruit punch Gatorade and regret. I’m laying down, trying to finish my drink, as well as the drink that Drew discarded. I don’t like to waste alcohol. Ever.
Drew is recovering from his fit, and suddenly takes off. He’s making his way up the hill as fast as a drunken soccer player can, as a spotlight envelops our group. Oh shit, we’re in the pits now. But to our luck, the spotlight was from a boat. It was the local police boat, and it had found us. But being the resourceful soccer players we were, we grabbed what we could and attempted to make it back to Drew’s house.
We feared for our lives as we shambled across the pavement, all uncertainties of direction gone, we had one place in mind: safety. Surely the cops on the boat had radioed to a squad car nearby, who was probably closing distance a lot faster than our lot was. We ran/fell down the steps into Drew’s basement with a mixture of excitement, fear and confusion. All we knew, is that we were alive, and that was good.@1 year ago
The sun is starting to set as we roll into Madison Wisconsin. Mifflin Street Block Party starts the following morning, and Drew and I were ready. We didn’t realize how much was going to actually happen in the next 36 hours. If we had been informed previously, we would have thought we were being lied to. We pull into St.James street, feeling alienated and confused as to where we were. Little did we know that in the next 48 hours this place would become homebase, the one place where we would actually know where we were at. As we pull in, we’re met by Beau, Drew’s older brother. We unpack the car and walk in to what can only be described as a house hit by Hurricane Party. The table had an assortment of whatever you could ever need to smoke some marijuana, whether it be one-hitters, bowls, bubblers, vaporizers, and the bong. Little did we know how acquainted we would get with this bong. It would even cause temporary blindness at one point. From that first step inside that house, I knew it was going to be one hell of a time. We scurry down the narrow steps into what you could call a basement, and set our stuff down in Beau’s room, where we would be spending the night. We then make our way back to the car, meeting Bruce and Harlan along the way. We have to park Drew’s car somewhere, and drop Bruce and Harlan off at their apartment, which would become one of the main party apartments that we would spend the weekend in. The car got parked, and we crammed into the small saturn and made our way back to St.James. A little bit more meet+greet occurred, and we met Jeremy, Max, Sam and Pete. Hunger pains. We make our way to Jimmy Johns after stopping at the local convenience store and picked up our mixer for the night, a local energy drink that would become our life force.@1 year ago
Last night I decided to go and have a toke with my friend’s Alek and Drew. Nothing out of the ordinary, but got a bit higher than intended. Laughter was had at almost every joke, and a generally good time was had. But soon enough, the bonfire that we were at ended much earlier than we had imagined. Still baked as a cake, we decide that we must leave as well. Upon exiting the neighborhood Drew and I grab some Wendy’s, because munchies. Too excited about my 4 Jr. Cheeseburgers and my Spicy Chicken Nuggets, I took a wrong turn and drove. I didn’t know it was the wrong turn, because I was sidetracked by the deliciousness that was the food I had just bought. 10 minutes later I realize I have no idea where I am. Cornfields surround the road, and there isn’t a turn in sight. I decide, “what’s the worst that can happen”?, and drive on, anticipating a turn somewhere in the next mile or so. It didn’t come. Not for the next mile, not for the next three. Finally I’m turned around, and it’s 12:30 in a town I’m not used to. Cruising along to the beat of my large bites of Spicy Chicken Nuggets, I finally roll into a town I know. My excitement as I realize my surroundings was subsequently demolished as I pass a cop car. He knows. He has to. My mind is a blur of paranoia and anxiety as the cop I pass leaves his small spot on the side of the road, and begins driving, slowly at first. I’m in panic mode. Sirens erupt in my mind, and I go into the flight part of “Fight or Flight” mode. The cop isn’t really accelerating, so I know that after I get past this ridge, he won’t be able to see me if I turn. I take a quick turn, evading the police car that probably had no intention of harassing me anyways, but my paranoia and anxiety are still on red alert. I realize at this point that I was supposed to be at Drew’s house, as we left the bonfire at the same time. He must be so confused, he must think I’m dead.@1 year ago
We walk in Harlan’s apartment, Jimmy Johns in hand. They note our genius as they realize they haven’t had anything to eat all day, and we’re drinking soon. With quick volition they searched the barren freezer to find about 3 chicken fingers. With confidence, they began preheating the prehistoric stove that sat in the kitchen. As the stove preheated, we sat down in the living room, and the bong was passed around. First time with a bong, for both drew and I. Didn’t absolutely understand how it worked, but I managed just fine. Burn a little, pull a lot, pull the spoon, take the rip. My first hit was nothing to brag about but it was much better than I expected. After that, my Jimmy Johns tasted so much better than it would have originally. At about this time Beau realizes that we have to drop off liquor at his “significant other“‘s place, a few blocks away. Upon this realization, we also note that we left our alcohol back at St.James. So in this new high, we managed to drop Bruce off with Sam (S.O.) and he gives her the liquor.
Our trip back to St.James is a quick and easy one, and we retrieve our alcohol. Drew and I had some 1800 Tequila, some Jose Cuervo, and an odd mixture of Vodka and Hawaiian Punch. Beau had Rondiaz, one of the cheapest spiced rums on the market. The good part here though, is that Rondiaz was fucking delicious. Alcohol in hand we return to the Park West apartment complex where we rejoin the party. Music is playing as the chicken strips finally finish, to the delight of Dom, Bruce and Harlan. Drinks are poured, I decide to start off easy with some Rum and Coke. Easy drink, nothing too scary or heavy to start me off. I quickly finish as people decide to start doing shots. Drew and I were enlightened to one of our favorite liquors, Bacardi Torched Cherry. Bruce had a handle and was anxious to share the deliciousness. We poured back our shots with such force that an eruption of cherry flavor burst in my mouth. “This is surely the tastiest alcohol I’ve ever ingested” I thought to myself as my belly warmed as the new ounce of liquor joined its contents. I make myself another rum and coke and continue watching the Bulls game on the TV. Joakim Noah twists an ankle, landing on it completely sideways. This was horrible to Bulls fans after losing Rose not long before. I take slow sips from my drink, not wanting to appear the lightweight in this new surrounding, since the party had hardly started yet. Meanwhile, Drew was in the kitchen pounding back shots with anyone who wanted to do them, so he was quickly shitfaced and quickly became the life of the party. His inebriation was simply the start to the next 48 hours.
After a while, I do a few more shots to get on par with the rest of the party. I down some Rondiaz, some Torched Cherry, and the vodka we brought. The Tequila would have to wait till the next day, I wasn’t that ready to taste dead animals. We get word that Sam’s party has a lot of women, and quickly make our way to the Humbucker Apartment complex just down the street. Beau is apparently a wizard, because he knows all the passcodes to enter all of the local apartment buildings. He must get around. A familiar smell of weed filled our nostrils as we were informed that the first floor was basically stoner heaven. If I wasn’t with the group, I probably would have sat there and smelled for a long time. We filed into Sam’s apartment, and this is where things get fuzzy really fast. The alcohol starts to hit me as I start my next drink. I stand by the bar for some conversation I don’t remember. Drew is shitfaced. Like, he’s to the point where he’s on the couch, lost in conversation to the point where he is simply listening, too drunk to form sentences. I take quick note and inform Beau of the state his little brother is in, which surprisingly was met with a smile and a joke or two. Brotherly love, I assume. Beau escorted Drew back to St.James, which was a pretty decent walk. This means that I’m now alone at a party where I know next to no one. Sweet.
Thankfully, my drunken socialization skills are actually pretty impressive, something I wouldn’t realize until the next day. I talked with people at the bar, I talked with people on the couches. I told them who I was, where I came from and some simple stories to fit in with conversation. I didn’t feel out of place, actually. People actually were interested that I was the youngest there, and in damn good control for how much I had drank. I fit in just fine, surprisingly. Finally Beau returns and I have someone watching out for me again. Drinking continued as he met back with me for a status report, with news that Drew was back in the room, sleeping like a baby. Happy that my best friend was safe, I proposed a shot in his honor. Beau obliged, and we tossed back what was likely my 14th shot for the night. I made my way back to the couch, to be met by a few girls from UW Madison. We talked for a long time, I’m honestly not sure as to what was really said, but apparently it was a damn good conversation that went pretty smoothly. I only say this because Beau texted me and asked if I was “going to get with that” because apparently she looked like she was into me and I was entertaining her pretty well. In this state, I was utterly confused. So I told Beau no, no I was not going to “get with that”, met with a smile and a good laugh. At this point I realize the party has been dead for a while. I’ve been in my own world for a good amount of time, and now it’s simply Beau, Sam, her roommates and me left. I mention that I should probably get going, and Beau and I make our way back to St.James. As I walk into the room, the last thing I remember is laying down on the ground after laughing at Drew’s blacked-out figure on the bed. Day 1 was complete.@1 year ago
Going to start cataloging drunken adventures here so I don’t forget them@1 year ago