Classic. Epic. Crazy. Whack. These are just some of the words to that can be used to describe one of the world's favorite past times. Likewise, there are a bunch of synonyms: rager, ripper, shindig, fiesta, and my new favorite: banger.
As my 21st birthday just passed, I had a little gathering at my spot last night on Friday night. My boy Luigi suggested we throw it together so we would have a good mix of Americans and Italians. Who am I to turn down the prospect of meeting new Italians? On the same hand, my Italian boys were giddy to meet these American girls.
Luigi and I headed to the supermarket in the early afternoon. I was going to only buy alcohol but L insisted we needed some food. Alright. I can hang with that. Folks get hungry on the late night and after drinking. He picked up numerous bags of popcorn, potato chips, and tuna. Tuna? WHAT?!
He explained to me that tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches, on white bread, was the standard at Italian parties. Everyone loves them and everyone eats them. I was already dropping bank on the booze and now I gotta pitch in so people at my party can smell like low tide? Ah shit.
I picked out all the hard alcohol: vodka, rum, and limoncello. He took care of the wine and we did the beer together. Our bill was something big and we used a cart to transport all of our goods. Now I had already sent out an email to everyone in my program so that was taking care of. As we were walking to our apartment, Luigi and I noticed signs posted everywhere that read : "Grande Festa, Stasera #18" (Big party tonight)
Our apartment is 22. Some other jerk asses were having a party, too. Ah shit. I had told Luigi to not invite people the day of because if people catch wind of the party to far in advance you end up with guys named "Shook", "Mitch", and "Knife" showing up.
As we unloaded the alcohol and subtly showed off to our suite mates, I went into my room to contemplate the outfit for the night and make sure the camera was fully charged. I took Bob Marley's advice: "Don't worry about-a-thing, every little things, gonna be alright"
As the playlist was being finalized, I gave some last minute directions to some folks and hopped in the shower. Although there was only 6 guys and 1 girl in the apartment, we were excited. Ready. Ready to get drunk. Ready to party.
All the food was out on the tables. All the drinks and plastic cups were there. The music was on. And, around 11:15, the calvary started to roll in...
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