It is no secret at this point that I enjoy having a little too much to drink and having a little too much fun along the way. One thing I have never been a huge fan of however is the ‘Typical College Party’. As a senior I have been to enough parties I feel like I have a good handle on if I will enjoy myself before I leave my apartment, much less walk in the door.
My most recent college party experiences however seem to follow a trend. If I am there, the cops are soon to follow. I don’t go out frequently, and when I do find myself at a house party it is usually not a particularly one (15-30 people standing in a kitchen sometimes attempting to toss ping pong balls into solo cups). Since house parties aren’t really my thing I typically isolate myself in a corner and watch people with the same level of interest and intensity as a narrator of an Animal Planet documentary.
Due to my voluntary nonexistent interaction with other party goers I typically limit my attendance time at any particular party to somewhere in the realm of 30-45 minutes before relocating to another event or responsibility; which leads me to the increased confusion behind why the cops bust almost every party I attend. It is a unique experience being at a house party when the cops show up, particularly when you are over 21. Everyone under age typically goes and hides themselves in a bedroom or bathroom while praying there are enough people of age to actually look like they are having a party. While I have heard dozens of stories about cops showing up and arresting everyone at a party for either underage drinking or providing alcohol to minors, I have never actually experienced cops who cared that much.
Over the course of the past year I have attended 5 house parties, 4 of which were either issued a noise complaint (and then the party resumed) or ultimately shut down. Yet I have never once witnessed a cop enter the building where the party was taking place, check the IDs of any of the clearly intoxicated people standing barefoot in the driveway holding solo cups, or my personal favorite the 17 year old dancing half naked on the hood of a F-150 while repeatedly screaming “I’m drunk and underage” (someone was asked to take her home but her presence was neither questioned nor punished).
Perhaps there will come a time when I decide college house parties are the place to be. Until then I’m going to continue my Friday night routine of locking myself in a practice room and taking a shot every time I fuck up. It’s a great time. It yields great results. It makes being a music major ever so slightly more tolerable. It also makes you feel a little less lonely for being the only person practicing at 3am on a Friday night/Saturday morning.