Opinion: One Long Night

Alex+Kamczyc

Alex Kamczyc

Alex Kamczyc

It was almost midnight.

I found myself sweating from everywhere, holding a lukewarm beer and listening to music that was so loud I could barely hear myself think.

I was surrounded by people of every shape, creed and color. I was trying (and failing) to listen to a girl who’s face slightly resembled a gargoyle’s, who was talking to a guy who was trying (and failing) to get her number.

The truth is, I was only here because my friend asked me to come hang out while she studied. She’s a journalism major like me and had an ethics exam in the morning, so I figured I could help her.

Of course, that didn’t last long — she got an invite to hang out with friends who were having a game night at their apartment.

Sure, why not — ethics is a hard class, you need to blow off steam, right? Game night seemed fun.

I mean, I suck at games, but it seemed fun.

So we arrive at the apartment and everyone was dressed like a model from Vogue. They were angular in shape; You could cut yourself on them if you got too close.

They were playing Cards against Humanity — a game that I was fiercely horrid at, so of course the night is going to start off bumpy.

Conversation was sporadic, I couldn’t keep up with much of what was being said, and it didn’t help that I barely knew any of them.

“So Andy’s acting like he did absolutely nothing wrong,” said one of the angular shaped women.

“God, Andy is such an ass,” I chimed in, pretending to know what was going on. This didn’t really work, as the models ignored me and kept playing.

I started to get the ugly feeling that this wasn’t going to be the only stop of the night for us, and I began to mentally prepare for the long road of mishaps that would come.

I downed a few of whatever shots were available to warm me up (at least the selection was nice) to make my uncomfortable, awkward attitude fade away a bit more.

A few more shots, and a few more awkward attempts at joining the conversation, and we were off to our next location: Andy’s House.

But first, we needed snacks, so Taco Bell was the way to go.

We waited in line for what felt like hours. The line of cars in front of us felt endless.

We would have been better off blasting music and partying there.

It seemed like I wasn’t the only one with this idea because three spots ahead of us was a truck filled with what I can only imagine to be frat guys getting amped for a party. They were hanging out of the truck bed, blasting Kendrick Lamar and harassing the people surrounding them.

This didn’t jive well with the people in front and soon there was what looked like a riot unfolding in the driveway of Taco Bell. People screaming louder than Kendrick rapping; shoes flying and people leaving their cars.

It looked like a circus from where we were observing, clowns and carneys going at it for peanuts.

This wasn’t something unusual, this happened from time to time here, and if you were lucky enough, you would be able to watch from the safety of your car and laugh and thank whatever you prayed to that you weren’t that sloppy yet.

Eventually we got our food, with minimum damage done, and we were on our way.

It was the typical night you might expect here — people who come out to meet women, the group of friends looking for the greatest story ever told or people like me, who just want to drink and have a nice time.

The models stayed in their little group, me and my friend found ourselves drinking by a wall, trying (and failing) to listen to a conversation between two people next to us.

For the rest of the night we stayed like this, drinking and talking, laughing and observing. Neither of us felt truly comfortable, but we made due.

We almost settled in when suddenly, Andy walked out of his bedroom, soaked in booze and in shock. One of the models followed from behind.

That was everyone’s cue that the party was over, and we began filing our way out.

We left the party at two, drunk, tired and a little disgruntled at the night that unfolded. All I wanted to do was figure out how to get home and lay in my bed.

I chose a direction and started walking until:

“Al?” asked one of the angular models.

I turned around shocked that she knew my name.

“We’re going this way,” she gestured to her friends, including the one who wanted me to help her study. “Want to come with? We’re going to Rosie’s.”

So I ended up at Rosie’s Diner with my friend and her friends that eventually became my friends also.

These are the nights you live for, the ones that remind you that a new adventure and friends are just a random text away.

Sometimes, it’s best not to resist the current. Sometimes you need to go with the flow, and you just may make a memory or two along the way.

Alex Kamczyc is a columnist. Contact him at [email protected]