Beer Good, Fire Bad
Sometimes, we just have to do things that aren't quite in character in order to feel alive.
It started with an IM from an old friend, Dan Landberg. Yes, the same Dan that plays music, the same Dan who left RPI after a year to pursue a dream. He's putting his EP together now, and just moved into a new apartment in Somerville, Massachusetts, not far from his girlfriend's place. He was having a sort of apartment-warming party, more of a gathering of friends close and distant, old and new. More of a party that just happened to be at the new apartment. Somehow, two tentative dates got named, and Dan decided it was worth having two parties. The first night was to be more mild. The second night would be the real party, with the tenants upstairs inviting our gathering to their own kegger.
OK, so this must be another of those dream sequences, he just forgot the italic tag on the first paragraph. Not quite...I remembered them there. No, this was no dream sequence, and for that reason I figured Friday night would be the night I'd go down. For one, my parents were going to be out with friends, so it was just as well I would be going somewhere. For another, we all know my tendencies when it comes to alcohol, and friends or not, I didn't think I'd feel quite right at a kegger. Not my kind of environment. So I figured I'd go down Friday night, have a good time, and stay in Saturday.
My biggest mistake was assuming I wouldn't go Saturday.
As expected, work ran late Friday, and I didn't get on the road until a bit after 7:00 after getting gas. I got into Somerville around 8pm, and somehow scored parking in front of Dan's place...I was the first one there. We immediately hiked down to the nearest liquor store, the Wine & Cheese Cask...next door. (How convenient, and it turns out there's a pizza place next door to the Wine Cask. Talk about location.) While there, we ran into none other than Jenny, Dan's girlfriend, who was purchasing her own alcohol for the evening. It wasn't too long before Jenny and her roommate Steph joined us, and Dan and his roommate Matt took off in search of a table for beer pong. Once the table had been acquired, we began setting things up when an old friend arrived...James Garfield, a guy Dan had known from Maine, and who I knew through our classes at RPI.
Throughout the night, as Dan and friends warmed up with games of beer pong, others dropped in. Many, I later learned, were friends of Jen's from college, while others were Dan's friends in from the area. The beer pong, fueled by some cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon (part of the reason I didn't drink, knowing of Pabst's less-than-palatable reputation), was entertaining to watch, though I sat back. A few people tried their hand, though one had to appoint a drinker for her cups (she was designated driver among her friends). James' iPod provided musical entertainment, as did what many termed the most boring game in baseball history as the Yankees trounced the Sox. At some point, the girls disappeared, and James emerged from Dan's room to proclaim there was a dance party going on in another room. Sure enough, the girls (and a couple fortunate men) had gathered in Dan's roommate Matt's room for an impromptu dance party to the tune of the Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha." The iMac providing tunes ran through a number of other songs, some of us singing along, others dancing, and some still taking pictures now and then.
By the end of the night, I had had a great time, and when we were all talking toward the end of the evening, Dan's friend Elisabeth asked if I'd be back the next night. I didn't have to think too long before saying yes. Yes, it's not my normal environment, not my normal routine...but for one night, it felt good. And there's no reason another night couldn't be as scintillating.
So I drove home, worked Saturday morning, and then went back Saturday night. I guess I had high expectations...but when I got there, it was still pretty quiet. Elisabeth stopped by, sans other friends, but she was on her way elsewhere. Dan's girlfriend was working, her roommate was busy, and as one person observed, it turned out to be something of a sausage party. A couple of Dan's friends made it by later, and things picked up. Beer pong was quite the hit. We did check out the upstairs party. But overall, something was lacking Saturday night. The same crowd wasn't there, and it just felt more subdued. And by the end of the night, outside of Dan (whose girlfriend was at work), everyone there was coupled with someone else. I needed to get back to NH before passing out, so I left around 1am.
So I didn't have as good a time Saturday night, but I still had more fun than I'd had in some time. I hadn't seen that many people my age since the wedding a month ago. Talked to some girls, too, which I always feel positive about because it was probably my weakest area in college. Even if it's just conversational, it's more than I'm accustomed to. It's weird because a beer-laden party is not my element, not at all. And at times, I definitely felt out of that element. But at the same time, I could appreciate what was unfolding in front of me. And I could look past it all, past the empty beer cans and sticky floor and all of that, and just accept that I was among some great friends of a friend, and maybe I could be closer to that, more a part of it than I already am. That wouldn't take much. But it could happen.
Something else that surprised me was how much attention got paid to my drinking, or how much didn't. If I said no thanks to a beer, no big deal. And I even had a couple people who seemed almost impressed that I don't really drink. My sister chastised me later for not imbibing, but it surprised me that there was almost an air of reverence when people would ask me, like I had made some grand decision no one else could really handle. I don't know how to explain it beyond that.
There'll be other nights in Somerville. I'll be there.
It started with an IM from an old friend, Dan Landberg. Yes, the same Dan that plays music, the same Dan who left RPI after a year to pursue a dream. He's putting his EP together now, and just moved into a new apartment in Somerville, Massachusetts, not far from his girlfriend's place. He was having a sort of apartment-warming party, more of a gathering of friends close and distant, old and new. More of a party that just happened to be at the new apartment. Somehow, two tentative dates got named, and Dan decided it was worth having two parties. The first night was to be more mild. The second night would be the real party, with the tenants upstairs inviting our gathering to their own kegger.
OK, so this must be another of those dream sequences, he just forgot the italic tag on the first paragraph. Not quite...I remembered them there. No, this was no dream sequence, and for that reason I figured Friday night would be the night I'd go down. For one, my parents were going to be out with friends, so it was just as well I would be going somewhere. For another, we all know my tendencies when it comes to alcohol, and friends or not, I didn't think I'd feel quite right at a kegger. Not my kind of environment. So I figured I'd go down Friday night, have a good time, and stay in Saturday.
My biggest mistake was assuming I wouldn't go Saturday.
As expected, work ran late Friday, and I didn't get on the road until a bit after 7:00 after getting gas. I got into Somerville around 8pm, and somehow scored parking in front of Dan's place...I was the first one there. We immediately hiked down to the nearest liquor store, the Wine & Cheese Cask...next door. (How convenient, and it turns out there's a pizza place next door to the Wine Cask. Talk about location.) While there, we ran into none other than Jenny, Dan's girlfriend, who was purchasing her own alcohol for the evening. It wasn't too long before Jenny and her roommate Steph joined us, and Dan and his roommate Matt took off in search of a table for beer pong. Once the table had been acquired, we began setting things up when an old friend arrived...James Garfield, a guy Dan had known from Maine, and who I knew through our classes at RPI.
Throughout the night, as Dan and friends warmed up with games of beer pong, others dropped in. Many, I later learned, were friends of Jen's from college, while others were Dan's friends in from the area. The beer pong, fueled by some cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon (part of the reason I didn't drink, knowing of Pabst's less-than-palatable reputation), was entertaining to watch, though I sat back. A few people tried their hand, though one had to appoint a drinker for her cups (she was designated driver among her friends). James' iPod provided musical entertainment, as did what many termed the most boring game in baseball history as the Yankees trounced the Sox. At some point, the girls disappeared, and James emerged from Dan's room to proclaim there was a dance party going on in another room. Sure enough, the girls (and a couple fortunate men) had gathered in Dan's roommate Matt's room for an impromptu dance party to the tune of the Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha." The iMac providing tunes ran through a number of other songs, some of us singing along, others dancing, and some still taking pictures now and then.
By the end of the night, I had had a great time, and when we were all talking toward the end of the evening, Dan's friend Elisabeth asked if I'd be back the next night. I didn't have to think too long before saying yes. Yes, it's not my normal environment, not my normal routine...but for one night, it felt good. And there's no reason another night couldn't be as scintillating.
So I drove home, worked Saturday morning, and then went back Saturday night. I guess I had high expectations...but when I got there, it was still pretty quiet. Elisabeth stopped by, sans other friends, but she was on her way elsewhere. Dan's girlfriend was working, her roommate was busy, and as one person observed, it turned out to be something of a sausage party. A couple of Dan's friends made it by later, and things picked up. Beer pong was quite the hit. We did check out the upstairs party. But overall, something was lacking Saturday night. The same crowd wasn't there, and it just felt more subdued. And by the end of the night, outside of Dan (whose girlfriend was at work), everyone there was coupled with someone else. I needed to get back to NH before passing out, so I left around 1am.
So I didn't have as good a time Saturday night, but I still had more fun than I'd had in some time. I hadn't seen that many people my age since the wedding a month ago. Talked to some girls, too, which I always feel positive about because it was probably my weakest area in college. Even if it's just conversational, it's more than I'm accustomed to. It's weird because a beer-laden party is not my element, not at all. And at times, I definitely felt out of that element. But at the same time, I could appreciate what was unfolding in front of me. And I could look past it all, past the empty beer cans and sticky floor and all of that, and just accept that I was among some great friends of a friend, and maybe I could be closer to that, more a part of it than I already am. That wouldn't take much. But it could happen.
Something else that surprised me was how much attention got paid to my drinking, or how much didn't. If I said no thanks to a beer, no big deal. And I even had a couple people who seemed almost impressed that I don't really drink. My sister chastised me later for not imbibing, but it surprised me that there was almost an air of reverence when people would ask me, like I had made some grand decision no one else could really handle. I don't know how to explain it beyond that.
There'll be other nights in Somerville. I'll be there.