A wise man once told me that a college party isn’t a college party unless there’s a girl crying on the front porch because her boyfriend said “hello” to another girl.
So the other night, when I approached a house in which a girl was crying in the yard, shouting into the phone, “I know, he is being such a jerk,” and, “I’m prettier than her, right?” I thought: Well, close enough. If I’m wrong and there’s a piano recital going on in the house, then I guess I’ll have to stop making assumptions.
So for this week, I decided to talk about the college social experience as my eighth sign of impending doom ahead. No, I’m kidding. College isn’t scary. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)
Well, we go to Ohio University, which means that, in general, people find really random excuses to party in the middle of the week.
For example: It’s Monday, I have four exams tomorrow and it’s 2 p.m. But I just broke up with my boyfriend, so let’s go out.
Or, you got a C- on that paper? Congratulations man, I’m throwing you a party.
Of course we have to celebrate; it’s not every day a guy gets a mediocre grade!
But when you actually get to these parties, there’s always a checklist of trademarks of events that make it a successful night that you’ll see everywhere.
One: That group of girls that generally looked unpleased to be there? Check.
Two: That guy who forgets that he is not, in fact, Superman but decides to try to jump off a roof or a piece of furniture anyway? Check.
“Are you OK man?” “He’s fine.” “Walk it off.” “That’s what shrubbery was put on Earth for, after all.”
Three: There’s always a sign that says, “Must be 21 to drink.”
Oh no, they’re totally effective. Nothing says absolute authority like purple crayon scribbled on a piece of construction paper. Take one look at that sign and any underage is going to politely walk right up to the host and ask if he has any hot tea instead of alcohol.
“Hey I’m going to listen to the sign. People ignored the, ‘No Swimming’ sign in Jaws, and look what happened to them.”
Four: Conversations get much more interesting as it gets later.
“So, are you single?”
“Honey, we’ve been together for two years!”
“So you’re not? That’s too bad.”
Five: Let’s not forget the “dancing” that goes on at parties. Somewhere, Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsen are rolling over in their graves at the sight of 21st century dancing, which I think could someday provide an explanation if a girl gets pregnant without actually taking her clothes off.
Oh, you can flip and spin each other around? Well, she can defy human flexibility limits and press her entire face onto the floor while still standing on two feet, only slightly off-beat to a jaunty rap tune.
Touché.
Six: It’s an unspoken rule that at the end of the night you must get food. I always felt bad for the Wendy’s employees that have to deal with people stumbling all over their restaurant and crowding up the tables to eat food that didn’t come from there.
Until I realized, I think those places make bank by taking advantage of drunkenness.
“You said you just want a value fry?”
“I think you look like you need seven No. 6’s and a large Frosty. That’ll be $45.76.”
Enjoy, suckers.
Then there’s the next day at the dining halls — particularly Sundays. It’s hard not to see parades of people dragging themselves in, eyes glazed over and moaning, to get scrambled eggs.
I once heard a cheerful employee at Boyd Dining Hall on a Sunday flip some pancakes on someone’s plate and say, “Don’t worry kids, this will make it feel better.”
And to that, we say thank you.
Jackie Runion is a sophomore studying journalism and a columnist for The Post. Email her your favorite party rules at jr178409@ohiou.edu.
