We get to this house warming party, it was an apartment, and it was a total, what my friends call, a “cockfest.” Dudes everywhere. None of which I really knew. Neither did my friend Dan. The drinks were free, and we were underage, so we stayed.
Also, the girl who was throwing it, still friends by the way (hope you’re okay with me using that picture) was and is super hot. Cue the room full of dudes.
So we walked in and my hot friend was nowhere to be found. We awkwardly said hello to few people and continued to a corner of the room where the “douche bag guys” weren’t standing.
There was a line in the kitchen that wrapped around the bar and into the living room. This was obviously where the alcohol was.
Ding, Ding, Ding
I’m not the type of person to assume things. I like to see things for myself. For instance, I drive to the front of the parking lot, even when it’s packed. I don’t automatically assume there are no spots and park in the back. Funny enough, there’s often a spot. Some people follow the herd. That’s just never really been my style.
So we walked in the kitchen, to make sure they were waiting for alcohol, and not lining up for some weird orgy. There were a few girls there now, so it wouldn’t be SO weird. Kidding… Kind of.
We see the solo cups. I grab one for each of us. There are two very large bowls on the kitchen counter, and all of these dumbasses are lined up at one. No one was even going for the second one.
Dan and I looked at each other like, what the fuck? We waited in the small kitchen for a minute to make sure this line wasn’t actually for both. It wasn’t. So we filled our cups and went back to our spot.
We were in a hurry. It was Friday night, and this was one of the rare occasions Dan was freed from his girlfriend. We wanted to get a few drinks in us, and head to this place called Tia’s. Yes, it was the restaurant, but it turned into a wild shit show on Friday nights.
An obscene amount of hot college girls went looking to forget the week of studying and get fucked up! Hey, I was looking to get drunk too. Just not black-out for the first time.
It was already a little late, and we wanted to get the fuck out of this dude party. We drank our first drink like the champions we were, and went back for seconds.
Same thing: long line at one, and nobody at the other. What’s wrong with these people? Dan and I didn’t question it much. It was faster than waiting in the line. So we filled up another solo cup, and went back to talking.
About halfway through, I looked at Dan and said, “Hey, I’m kinda feelin’ this drink.”
“Yeah, I didn’t wanta seem like a little bitch, but me too.” He said.
We continued drinking.
On our way back to the kitchen for our third drink, we ran into the host. We hugged, said hello, I introduced her to my buddy, and we mentioned we couldn’t stay long. We just wanted to stop by. (And get drunk before we go out to a bar where we can’t drink)
As I’m filling up my solo cup, I said, “Hey, what’s in this drink? It’s really good.”
She said, “Oh well this one is Vodka Tonic (or something fruity) and this one is the shot bucket.”
“Wait… That’s the SHOT bowl?” I asked.
“Mmhmmh. I made it! It’s so good.” She said proudly.
“So what’s it mixed with?” I asked.
“Oh just Gin and some freshly squeezed juice.” She said with a smile.
“You mean we’ve been sippin’ on some Mother FUCKING GIN AND JUICE!”
I wanted to say that, but I didn’t. I just stood there in complete shock. What the fuck, I thought. Am I about to die? I thought, semi-joking with myself. She could tell something was up.
“Have you been drinking straight from the shot bowl?” she said laughing and putting her hand over her mouth.
I smiled and tried to laugh it off.
“The line was too long to get a REAL drink.” I laughed and looked back at Dan wide-eyed. “Alright, well we better get outta here. Thanks for having us.”
“We need to get the fuck outta here, now.” I urgently whispered to Dan as we walked to the door.
For some reason, we ran down the stairs. Not fully feeling the effects yet, we both thought getting there faster would help. Here’s a tip: running will make you get drunk faster.
“You mean to tell me that I just drank 2 ½ solo cups of FUCKING SHOTS!” I yelled as we ran.
Dan turned back as we ran through the parking lot, “Yeah! What the fuck! They should put labels on that shit.” We ran all the way to his car, jumped in, and slammed the doors.
“Oh man, running was bad choice.” I said.
“Yeah, I thought it would help,” he took a breath, “get us there faster. But now, I feel drunker.”
“Well, we did just drink 2 solo cups filled of shots in under 20 minutes.” I said.
We laughed pretty hard at that.
“Oh man, we’re gonna be so fucked up. ” Dan said.
“Yeah,” I laughed, “but I don’t feel that drunk yet. Granted, I can’t feel my face. But I think we can make it. Are you good?” I said as I touched his face.
Yeah, I was getting drunker by the second.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m a little buzzed, (drunk) but it takes a little bit to get really drunk, right? (NO) I mean it’s only been what, 15- 20 minutes. It takes 10 minutes to get there. Let’s do it.” Dan said.
“THAT’S MY BOY! LET’S FUCKING DOOOO ITTTTTT!” I yelled as I started shacking the car.
We cranked the music to an insane volume and drove to Tia’s. Here’s the thing, somehow I managed to hold onto my nearly full solo cup filled with shots. So when we finally get there, Dan parked and saw that I had it.
I was sitting there sipping my drink, staring at the bar like it was a far off mountain I was about to climb.
“I think I can do it.” I said.
I was talking about the bar, and you know, surviving the night. I knew there was no way I was drinking the rest of that drink. As soon as I opened the door I was going to pour it out, and go party. I was beyond set. Right before I open the door Dan said, “You gonna drink that?”
“No, I’m good man. I’m just gonna pour this out.” I said as I turned to leave.
He said, “Common. Don’t be a little bitch. Chug that shit.”
So I did. A solo cup filled with more than ¾’s of Gin, and some juice. Anyone who tells you it takes a while to get drunk, is a fucking liar, or they’ve never chugged straight alcohol. I’ve done it now… twice that I recall. Both times the extreme effects were felt within seconds.
Here’s the thing about guys. The way that we often motivate each other to do things is by calling out their manhood. “Don’t be a little bitch” is a common phrase we throw around. It works more times than you would think, especially to our friend’s drunker selves.
I got out, continued chugging the last little bit, turned the cup upside down, as if to prove my manhood, and threw it on the ground. The only response I got was, “That a boy.”
The walk from the car to the front gate is the last thing I remember.
(The people and events in this story are real, but the story is told from a comedic writer. The genre is commonly known as creative non-fiction. No one was hurt, offended or physically harmed in the making of this story. Viewer discretion was advised.)