What High School Kids do on Weekends

My friends and I have a ritual we often repeat. Well, ritual may be an uncommon way to refer to it, though we perform it with religious intensity. I’ve never heard it referred to as one, nor would I ever expect anyone to call it that. That said, if I were to describe it you would immediately know what to call it. The concept is as ancient as mankind itself and yet modern enough to be recognized by all. On March 21, 2009, my friends and I threw a party.

This party had the same origin as any average high school party. My best friend Josh’s dad was away in California starting up a new job. Such opportunities are not hard to come by; we had thrown a party at his house a few months back with moderate success. This time we had no intentions on squandering an open house on anything less than something spectacular. This time we knew that we had to throw an absolute rager.

We had spent a good portion of the week informing our friends that such an event would take place. As is expected of high school students, friends told friends, who told more friends. By the time Friday came around it seemed like half of the school had heard of it. People I had never even met approached me in the hallways asking me for details on where to go, and how to get there. By the time school was out I had talked to at least 30 people about it. I knew that if I personally had talked to 30 people, at least twice that many would arrive.

I was excited. That afternoon I felt the same uncontrollable excitement that I had felt in my younger days, back when nothing was more important then what could be found under the Christmas tree. I could not concentrate on anything. I could not stop moving for a second. I felt like I could not do anything until the party started. However, if everything were to go right this could not be the case.

This was the kicker: Josh had a small house. This was the kicker: Josh’s house was being remodeled. These things would be able to be ignored. What could not be ignored was the fact that we had no alcohol of any kind. High school parties in America are fueled solely on beer and liquor. Just like any vehicle, a party can only go as far as its fuel will take it. Josh, Andy (another of my best friends), and myself scrambled to call up anyone we knew over the age of 21, or even anyone who would know anyone over the age of 21. If we could not get our hands on beer, there was no way our party would end successfully.

Two hours before the party was to begin, I called a friend of mine from elementary school. I had seen her only a few times since she was in my 6th grade class; she hung out with a more ‘sketchy’crowd than I was comfortable with. Moreover, we had not gone to the same school for several years. We went to different junior high schools, and when high school came around she went to an alternative school.

Though she could easily acquire the needed alcohol, she would come through for us on one condition: she and five of her friends were also going to come to the party. We accepted without pause, knowing that the party would be dead without their assistance. Secretly we contemplated the outcome of this decision. Several of her friends were well known for stealing unattended objects. All of them had a reputation for being loud and wild. In hindsight, we had nothing to worry about. A good memory is more valuable than anything material.

By seven, an hour before the party was to start, we were finished setting up. Still, the place was a mess. Drywall was stacked in a corner of the living room. The house was illuminated by a pair of blinding halogen lights that we had angled off to the wall to save everyone’s eyes from major discomfort. An unused door substituted as a table for beer pong. Even so, we took comfort in the knowledge that we were in the clear, that nothing could happen to stop this party.

It was around this time that Josh’s dad called. He had purchased a plane ticket for him to go down to California at nine the next morning. Andy’s mom was to pick him up at seven and drive him down to the airport. After all the hype, all the excitement, all the work we had put in to make sure everything went well, we had hit a wall we were not sure we could get around. Josh considered his options. He could either cancel the party entirely, have everyone gone before the morning and get everything clean and back to normal, or just deal with the trouble. Quickly, Josh formulated a plan. He called Andy’s mom and let her know that he was going to take a bus to her house in the morning. He would have to wake up at six to catch this bus, but this sacrifice of sleep was for the benefit of everyone who was to attend.

At eight o’ clock people started arriving. At first, there were few. Soon, there were many. Over the next hour there were to be many more. Eventually we managed to cram over 60 people into this small, unassuming house. As was expected, things got wild.

My memory gets hazy at this point, as I too joined in the festivities. Rap music played relatively softly under a cacophony of voices. Smoke stained the air, obscuring the identities of those around the room. There were few people in that house that were not a hazard to themselves and everybody around them. The floors, recently mopped, were soon covered in dirt, beer and ash. Most importantly, everyone was having a good time.

You may wonder what causes the adolescent mind to seek such dangerous environs . Instead, you may remember what guided you on your own search for excitement. Some of us just like to socialize with acquaintances we never would have talked to without a crutch to repress our inhibitions. Some of us just have no love for the ability to stand, stay conscious, or communicate clearly. My reason? In addition to all of the other very good motives, all I ever wanted in life was experience.

I wanted to leave the party with nothing more to say than the word, ‘Damn.’ That one solitary word would express all of the emotions of an evening. You may not believe all the risk is worth one single word, but I wholly disagree. Life is too short to follow the rules. On my deathbed I’m not going to worry about how many brain cells I managed to save. I’m going to look back and smile, satisfied with a life well lived. If the law did make its way around, it would just be one more thing to look back at.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my future, far from it. I just never want to feel the fear that makes some miss out on an experience they may have really wanted to have. I want to see it all. I can’t let myself turn away from anything that could possibly have been worth doing.

Suddenly, the lights were turned off. The room went silent, save for hushed, frantic voices and rap music still struggling to gather anyone’s attention. Drunk off my ass, I had no idea what was going on. Within minutes half of the people at the party had snaked their way through a sliding glass door in the back. The lights were turned back on, but confusion still kept voices hushed. Everyone knew that the cops had arrived. We would all either find our place wandering the streets or in the back of a squad car.

A few minutes passed. Whispers slowly gave way to shouting and soon enough the party was back in full swing, minus thirty or so people. Whatever had spooked the crowd either had already left or had never come at all. Such is what happens when you squeeze too many people in one room. When all you have to go on for information is another person, a rumor can easily be confused for reality.

My initial reaction was one of disappointment. There were far fewer faces, thus far fewer people to embarrass myself in front of. After a moment though, I realized that this was okay, if not better than before. We still had fair numbers and no longer had to worry about how much alcohol we had gotten. There was more than enough for everyone. Best of all, we could now actually hear each other.

Shenanigans ensued for quite some time, until finally everyone had either left or found somewhere to pass out. Quite tired, I squeezed myself into Josh’s dad’s bed. I say squeezed, because four others had already decided to sleep on this bed. As far as I can remember I fell fully asleep pretty quickly.

So what was the result of it all? I met two girls I would end up dating later on in the year. I made at least twenty friends and had mostly forgotten most of them by the next morning. Everything not related to school had been stolen from my backpack. Josh’s ipod and cellphone had also been stolen. Neither was very important to him, but his alarm was on his cellphone, so he woke up an hour late. He walked three miles to get to Andy’s, but he was already going to be late for his flight. Worse yet, Andy’s mom was unable to get a hold of Josh, so she came by the house to pick him up. She didn’t find Josh, but she did find half a dozen people passed out on the couch and quite the mess.

We all left Josh’s house within an hour of Andy’s mom showing up. We knew that any moment someone would come by to clear out the stragglers. Breaking off into a handful of small groups, we all said our goodbyes.

“Damn,” Andy yawned as we made our way to the bus stop.

“Damn,” I yawned back.