“It was just like the end scene of Terminator 2 when the Terminator came back from the dead. His left eyelid sputtered for a second, then opened up so fast, so hard and so wide I thought his eyeball was going to shoot out of his socket and hit me in the face. I knew at that moment we had done something very, very bad, but very, very awesome. I knew it would be remembered forever.”
“The Resurrection of Christ”
It was the first in a life-long series of going away parties that I threw, for myself. It was December of 2008, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was going away to boot camp in less than a month, and I spared no expense on the greatest party I had ever thrown.
4,000 dollars got me a two story wedding banquet hall that normally holds wedding receptions for up to 400 people. It was decorated in rockstar theme, with a cheaply glamorous red carpet entrance, photo booth, rock and roll decorations, a full bar, DJ, round tables, and a dance floor that was secluded by a big curtain.
The second level of the banquet hall existed purely to make people feel more comfortable taking their clothes off. It was dark, secluded, and welcomed sex. There were at least 8 couches with curtains draped around them so that if any couple was drunk enough to consider reaching second base, the façade of privacy provided by the $3 curtains I bought at Walmart would make them more likely to hit third base, or maybe even round home.
Making all this possible were the 10 gallons of jungle juice I had flowing out of a water cooler on the second level. The jungle juice was made with the worst vodka found on the very bottom shelf, disguised by capri sun, Sprite, and white grape juice. To the untrained palette, it was delightful and refreshing. To the trained palette, it was cheap jungle juice.
To all, it blacked you out and made you take your pants off after a cup and a half.
I had a party bus take about 50 friends from my apartment in Pacific Beach to the banquet hall, then go to San Diego State to pickup another 40 friends at my old frat house, Sigma Nu. I was 25 years old, about to become an Officer in the Marine Corps in a time of war, still partying with my old fraternity, and I was not ashamed.
Every aspect of the party turned out incredible. Everyone dressed in elaborate rock star costumes from every decade, my parents showed up as Sonny and Cher, the photo booth created pictures that are still on people fridges 6 years later, and there was more sex in and around that banquet room than an all-gay private pool party.
There were people fucking in the stairwell, the kitchen behind the bar, the closets, the bushes outside the room, the bathroom, and the couches upstairs behind the thin white curtains. There were blowjobs and handjobs being offered more casually than drinks, and titties were seen as frequently as smiles.
I waited at the photo booth, which was at the front entrance to the party, for all my friends to arrive. I had a professional photographer snapping away, making everyone look better than they really were, and of course, I made sure I took pictures with every person who walked in. (I also made sure that they paid their $20 entry fee to the party I invited them to.)
The owner of the banquet room showed up and threw a fit when he saw a couple fucking on the floor in the hallway of the kitchen, behind the bar, underneath very bright lights. He walked in on the couple, and put his hands to his hair, as if he was going to rip his hair out.
“What is wrong with you people? You’re right next to a closet door! Would it be that hard to go in a fucking closet? For god sakes!”
The couple got up and ran back out into the party. I don’t remember what happened to them, except that she got pregnant. Oops.
At just 9 o’clock one of my friends ran up to me in a panic.
“Dude, you gotta go talk to the owner of this place, like, right now”
“Oh shit. What happened?”
“I Dunno. He just said ‘This is out of fucking control and I’m shuttin it down.’ That’s all I heard.”
I ran around the banquet hall frantically looking for the owner. When I found him he was standing by the dance floor with his arms folded across his chest.
“Excuse me sir how are you? Is everything going ok?”
He ignored me and continued staring straight ahead. He was looking at a couple on the dance floor. The guys hand was way up her rock star groupie skirt. He must have had his whole fist in there.
The owner continued staring without moving. At least 20 seconds had gone by, and it got really weird because my dick started getting hard watching the couple go at it. He finally turned and yelled to me in a thick New York accent over the sound of the music.
“I was gonna shut this party down, but this is the most unbelievable fuckin thing I ever seen in my life. You got till 2.”
I looked at him in astonishment, the room was only rented till 1.
“Thank you sir I really appreciate it”
“You goin into the service?”
“Yes sir”
“Which one?”
“The Marines”
“Jeezus.” He shook his head in painful acceptance of his own decision. “You guys are fuckin nuts. Enjoy your extra hour, don’t burn my fuckin place down”
“Don’t worry sir Ill be back first thing in the morning to clean the place up”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever” He shook his head and walked away.
I gathered up some friends in a huddle and told them the amazing news. One of the first things my friends said in response was.
“OH MY GOD BRO LETS BURN THIS FUCKING PLACE DOWN!”
Laughter, high fives, and ass slaps followed that statement.
I called the party bus and adjusted the timeline, and before I was done with the call someone introduced three new cute girls to me. I picked the least attractive one because I knew she’d be the easiest to nail, and took her upstairs to offer her a drink and get to know her personality. One minute later someone came running to get me.
“DONNY we have an emergency!”
“Whoa, whoa, chilllll bro, I’m getting to know my friend here. Umm, what’s your name again sweetie?” I was considerably more drunk than I was the last time someone came to me with a problem.
“Chelsea”
“CHELSEA! Yes, I knew it. Goddamn you are fucking HOT Chelsea. You know that?” She was actually not hot, so she wasn’t used to hearing it, which I knew would make her 10x more likely to give me a BJ within the hour. I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek. She giggled and my mistake was forgiven. I felt awesome. She felt more awesome.
My friend yanked me away and killed my buzz.
“Bro, one of Derk’s baseball buddies is passed out in the bathroom stall and the owner wants to call an ambulance if we don’t get him up and out of here. His exact words were ‘Nobody’s gonna die in my place tonight. He can die somewhere else’.”
“Oh shit”
We ran downstairs to the bathroom. The first thing I saw when I opened the bathroom door was my buddy JJ doing key bumps of cocaine in front of the mirror. No shame in his game.
“Oh hey what’s up Donny! Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up you piece of shit?” JJ looked in the mirror and cleaned up his nose as he said it.
“Hold on, one of Derk’s buddies is about to get this party shut down early” I was too worried to make small talk. I walked over to the stall and tried to open the door, it was locked. I looked underneath the stall doors and saw a limp body with a face on the tile next to the toilet.
“Oh shit, there’s someone in there?” JJ asked.
“Yep. And he looks dead. Fucking awesome.” I crawled underneath the door and tried waking up the unconscious professional baseball player. I slapped him, shook him, did a sternum rub, and splashed toilet water on his face. Nothing.
“The Resurrection of Christ”
It was the first in a life-long series of going away parties that I threw, for myself. It was December of 2008, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was going away to boot camp in less than a month, and I spared no expense on the greatest party I had ever thrown.
4,000 dollars got me a two story wedding banquet hall that normally holds wedding receptions for up to 400 people. It was decorated in rockstar theme, with a cheaply glamorous red carpet entrance, photo booth, rock and roll decorations, a full bar, DJ, round tables, and a dance floor that was secluded by a big curtain.
The second level of the banquet hall existed purely to make people feel more comfortable taking their clothes off. It was dark, secluded, and welcomed sex. There were at least 8 couches with curtains draped around them so that if any couple was drunk enough to consider reaching second base, the façade of privacy provided by the $3 curtains I bought at Walmart would make them more likely to hit third base, or maybe even round home.
Making all this possible were the 10 gallons of jungle juice I had flowing out of a water cooler on the second level. The jungle juice was made with the worst vodka found on the very bottom shelf, disguised by capri sun, Sprite, and white grape juice. To the untrained palette, it was delightful and refreshing. To the trained palette, it was cheap jungle juice.
To all, it blacked you out and made you take your pants off after a cup and a half.
I had a party bus take about 50 friends from my apartment in Pacific Beach to the banquet hall, then go to San Diego State to pickup another 40 friends at my old frat house, Sigma Nu. I was 25 years old, about to become an Officer in the Marine Corps in a time of war, still partying with my old fraternity, and I was not ashamed.
Every aspect of the party turned out incredible. Everyone dressed in elaborate rock star costumes from every decade, my parents showed up as Sonny and Cher, the photo booth created pictures that are still on people fridges 6 years later, and there was more sex in and around that banquet room than an all-gay private pool party.
There were people fucking in the stairwell, the kitchen behind the bar, the closets, the bushes outside the room, the bathroom, and the couches upstairs behind the thin white curtains. There were blowjobs and handjobs being offered more casually than drinks, and titties were seen as frequently as smiles.
I waited at the photo booth, which was at the front entrance to the party, for all my friends to arrive. I had a professional photographer snapping away, making everyone look better than they really were, and of course, I made sure I took pictures with every person who walked in. (I also made sure that they paid their $20 entry fee to the party I invited them to.)
The owner of the banquet room showed up and threw a fit when he saw a couple fucking on the floor in the hallway of the kitchen, behind the bar, underneath very bright lights. He walked in on the couple, and put his hands to his hair, as if he was going to rip his hair out.
“What is wrong with you people? You’re right next to a closet door! Would it be that hard to go in a fucking closet? For god sakes!”
The couple got up and ran back out into the party. I don’t remember what happened to them, except that she got pregnant. Oops.
At just 9 o’clock one of my friends ran up to me in a panic.
“Dude, you gotta go talk to the owner of this place, like, right now”
“Oh shit. What happened?”
“I Dunno. He just said ‘This is out of fucking control and I’m shuttin it down.’ That’s all I heard.”
I ran around the banquet hall frantically looking for the owner. When I found him he was standing by the dance floor with his arms folded across his chest.
“Excuse me sir how are you? Is everything going ok?”
He ignored me and continued staring straight ahead. He was looking at a couple on the dance floor. The guys hand was way up her rock star groupie skirt. He must have had his whole fist in there.
The owner continued staring without moving. At least 20 seconds had gone by, and it got really weird because my dick started getting hard watching the couple go at it. He finally turned and yelled to me in a thick New York accent over the sound of the music.
“I was gonna shut this party down, but this is the most unbelievable fuckin thing I ever seen in my life. You got till 2.”
I looked at him in astonishment, the room was only rented till 1.
“Thank you sir I really appreciate it”
“You goin into the service?”
“Yes sir”
“Which one?”
“The Marines”
“Jeezus.” He shook his head in painful acceptance of his own decision. “You guys are fuckin nuts. Enjoy your extra hour, don’t burn my fuckin place down”
“Don’t worry sir Ill be back first thing in the morning to clean the place up”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever” He shook his head and walked away.
I gathered up some friends in a huddle and told them the amazing news. One of the first things my friends said in response was.
“OH MY GOD BRO LETS BURN THIS FUCKING PLACE DOWN!”
Laughter, high fives, and ass slaps followed that statement.
I called the party bus and adjusted the timeline, and before I was done with the call someone introduced three new cute girls to me. I picked the least attractive one because I knew she’d be the easiest to nail, and took her upstairs to offer her a drink and get to know her personality. One minute later someone came running to get me.
“DONNY we have an emergency!”
“Whoa, whoa, chilllll bro, I’m getting to know my friend here. Umm, what’s your name again sweetie?” I was considerably more drunk than I was the last time someone came to me with a problem.
“Chelsea”
“CHELSEA! Yes, I knew it. Goddamn you are fucking HOT Chelsea. You know that?” She was actually not hot, so she wasn’t used to hearing it, which I knew would make her 10x more likely to give me a BJ within the hour. I put my arm around her and kissed her cheek. She giggled and my mistake was forgiven. I felt awesome. She felt more awesome.
My friend yanked me away and killed my buzz.
“Bro, one of Derk’s baseball buddies is passed out in the bathroom stall and the owner wants to call an ambulance if we don’t get him up and out of here. His exact words were ‘Nobody’s gonna die in my place tonight. He can die somewhere else’.”
“Oh shit”
We ran downstairs to the bathroom. The first thing I saw when I opened the bathroom door was my buddy JJ doing key bumps of cocaine in front of the mirror. No shame in his game.
“Oh hey what’s up Donny! Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up you piece of shit?” JJ looked in the mirror and cleaned up his nose as he said it.
“Hold on, one of Derk’s buddies is about to get this party shut down early” I was too worried to make small talk. I walked over to the stall and tried to open the door, it was locked. I looked underneath the stall doors and saw a limp body with a face on the tile next to the toilet.
“Oh shit, there’s someone in there?” JJ asked.
“Yep. And he looks dead. Fucking awesome.” I crawled underneath the door and tried waking up the unconscious professional baseball player. I slapped him, shook him, did a sternum rub, and splashed toilet water on his face. Nothing.