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I am
...getting rained on in Tokyo.
...old enough to drink alcohol but not old enough to know when to stop.
...blogging since 02/22/03.
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Sunday, March 28, 2004
What happened at the party I didn't want to go to in the first place
Let me relive the horrors that were the last few hours as I'm typing with numb fingers and a bruised wrist in the middle of the night. Tonight the fun event club of my business school organized one of the bigger parties and it was themed "spring break". First of all, Germans don't have anything corresponding to the wild orgies that are classified as "spring break" in the US. Second, the temperatures were below freezing which made it a "Let's not die from hypothermia"-party rather than a "Dance around in your bikinis and show your boobies"-party. Third, there were three toilets in the ladies for about 800 party-goers.
I drank three cokes during the four hours I was at the party. Being sober doesn't automatically take away the fun of a party. You can have a lot of fun when you are sober. You have intelligible conversations when being sober, you don't trip that often while dancing, and you don't make out with people that you wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole in daylight. This time being sober meant standing in a overcrowded room, watching two go-go dancers dressed as slutty nurses do a lesbian makeout session on a platform and getting poked by the mass of drunks which believed that they were actually dancing. There was a lot of beer spilling and bottle breaking involved.
At 4 am the music was finally turned off and the people were to finish their last beer. Meanwhile security shooed all people away from the building and consequently blocked the access to the restrooms which I was greatly in need of. I expected to get back home soon so I refrained from peeing in the adjacent vineyards like many others did.* However, the intoxication of most of my friends had progressed so far that their drinking speed was reduced dramatically. We lingered for another hour. Until then my urge had transformed into a sharp pain in the abdomen but after a lot of dawdling on the part of my friends, I finally walked home with TS whose apartment (and toilet) is closer to the university than mine. At that point I couldn't tell anymore whether I'd already pissed all over me because I had no feelings in my lower body region whatsoever but I chose to think that I had retained dignity and still held it.
When TJ passed us on his bike, TS felt obliged to have a race with him. TS was holding my hand and so he pulled me with him as he started running. This was not his brightest idea because I tripped in the course and was dragged across the floor for a couple of feet. As a result I had dirt on my pants and in my pants. In addition to that there were jabbing pains in my hand and butt but I made it to the bathroom on time where I scattered the dirt all over the bathroom floor when I pulled down my pants. Now I have a huge bluish bumpy bruise on my left wrist and a splinter in my bleeding palm which I can't pull out. I hope my hand will rot off so that TS has a reason to be permanently sorry for being a bloody %?&$/? that has to prove his manliness by starting unnecessary competitions with TJ.
* The wine from these vineyards is served during the festivities on graduation day. Why not drink piss directly?
posted by Bunny at 7:03 AM
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