I knew a cop who lived in a rural area; he had a party consisting of 5 gallon buckets of home made stuff (they had a fifth of about five different alcohols in each bucket), and 700 jello shots in a refridgerator in the garage. He woke up late the next day, walked out back and found his wife asleep under a tree.
I’m not sure if it qualifies as a “best” party but it was certainly the craziest party I ever attended. It was held at a hotel at the Barajas Airport in Madrid, Spain. We were up on the 6th or 7th floor and had several connected rooms overlooking the pool. There was an ample supply of liquor, beer and that outstanding Moroccan hash. There was at least a hundred people there and a steady stream of people leaving and arriving. The music was loud and everyone was a having a blast. Then the crazy shit started happening! I believe it began with a guy who literally ripped a closet right out of the place and chucked it off the balcony. The pool was surrounded by these large (2′ diameter) glass globes that topped the light poles. A few dingleberries decided to have a contest to see who could break the most globes by throwing bottles at them.
When I left there were only a couple of globes left and broken glass everywhere including in the pool! The rooms were being torn apart at the seams and the contents were going over the balconies. When I got down to the lobby you could hear shit crashing down from above. I was headed for the Metro or subway when the Guardia Civil or national police came tearing down the street.
Some of the best parties I ever attended were drug dealer parties. I was known to partake while attending high school in Spain and a couple of the bigger dealers would have an annual customer appreciation party. These were much more subdued affairs that than the airport hotel party but loads of fun nonetheless. There were piles of hash and weed along with bowls of speed, coke, heroin, acid and a few things I never heard of. It was all free and when you left you were encouraged to take a little doggy bag of party supplies with you.
I remember a party at the Beta house at Tulane where I was a member. I shit you not there was some prissy looking drunk girl passed out on the floor next to the wall in some side room. She had the fuzziest pink angora sweater on. About three of us stood above her and pissed all over her sweater which seemed to absorb our urine rather effectively. I’ve wondered from time to time if she’s married, any children and what country club she belongs to…….
I attended two, week long senior trips in high school. Once as a sophomore with a senior gf and once as a senior with a sophomore gf. ) Both times we went to the Mediterranean island of Ibiza. Ibiza, as some of you may know is the party capitol of Europe and the clubs are intense. It would have ranked as the best party of my life except for that fucking techno/rave/trance bullshit that passed as music in the early/mid 80′s. I hated that shit but the chicas were digging it so I tolerated it. After seven days straight of partying down there, I was still buzzed three days after getting home. Partying like that will make you old before your time!
Years ago was at a packed bar, walked by the big line for the women’s room to take a leak in mine. Was standing there and a girl busts in, drops her pants and jumps up on the sink right beside me and relieves herself while smiling at me.
Can’t say I’m looking for admiration from anyone, just stating what was what 25+ years ago. I don’t miss it nor do I regret a single minute of it including the odd “bad trip” on LSD. I had a fucking blast!
Having said that, I don’t think many people in the world could be involved in all that and survive, let alone prosper afterwards. Many of my friends and acquaintences from that time are dead of still fighting the monkey on their backs. For me it was just something to pass the time and have fun. I had other objectives in life and a hard deadline for leaving that life behind me, and I did. I’m glad I had those experiences for many reasons. Having been there and done that, I can speak first hand from experience.
I would not want to see people frying on acid driving on our streets but I’d rather share the road with an army of potheads than one drunk! If you are weak willed or have no hope or plans in your life, things like heroin, coke and meth will flat out kill you but alcohol, in my opinion, is a much bigger killer than any of those things. I have mixed feelings about weed and hash. (essentially the same thing) I can see how weed *might* lead to doing other things for many people but in and of itself, it is non addictive, short acting and not dangerous but it does make you rather stupid at times while under the influence. Do I want my surgeon, accountant or airline pilot high on weed? Hell no! Do I want kids smoking weed? Again, no. I also do not want to see it legalized but I gotta figure that most people who want to smoke weed are doing so regardless of the law so it may be a moot point. I’d prefer to see it decriminalized so that we can stop paying to incarcerate people for smoking weed. Unfortunately, the deeper in debt govts go, the more likely they will do something to legalize it so that they can tax it.
For me, employer requirements and big brother requirements keep me on the straight and narrow. Test positive at work and it’s goodbye career. Get arrested or convicted outside work and you can kiss your firearms goodbye. Get busted with drugs AND firearms and you may never dig yourself out of that hole!
the best/craziest party I’ve ever been to was a friend’s “moving out” party. This was in the mid-90s.
It started the day before a friend and his 4 housemates had to move out of a wooden “Queenslander” style house in Brisbane, Australia as the building was going to get demolished the next day in order to be turned into a set of apartment blocks. (google “Queenslander house” to get an idea what it was like. Then realist that it had been a uni-student share house for at least the past 15 years).
One of they guys really, really wanted a joint. So he called around. Someone called me, and I called a friend that had some contacts. By 10 am there were a couple of ounces of leaf on the kitchen table. By 2 pm it was a couple of pounds. By 4 pm there was an entire garbage bag’s worth of various grades of pot on the crappy formica kitchen table. So after getting everything into the rented van and dropped off at the new place, we came back and lit it up. As you do.
Somehow or other it ended up on 4ZZZ fm, the local alternative non-commercial radio station. Friends dropped by. Then strangers dropped by. Then a bunch of guys dropped by from the local bewery (XXXX brewery – yes, that’s the real name) with a couple of kegs and a few cases of beer.
Around about 8 or 9 there was over a 100 people there and the backyard that had only been cut when the local medieval reenactors dropped by to practise their sword strokes had a huge bonfire in it.
Sometime between then and midnight a bunch of punks turned up and started smashing the house. As you do.
At least one person brought along a chainsaw and smashed into the walls. That was quickly stopped by a couple of loud tradies — while those tradies disconnected the power. Then the tradies joined in the smashing. As you do.
I remember leaning on the back fence sitting downwind of the fire chatting with some chick and we were taking bets as to when the roof would cave in as some guy tossed handfulls of pot onto the fire.
No idea why the police didn’t turn up
One of the flatmates wrote about it in a book “The Tasmanian Babes Fiasco”. Which was nice.
There was this time back in ’78 that… fuck it, no one will believe me.
Goes for the stories of ’77, ’79, 80, and 83, too.
I stopped telling those stories because no one believed me. Where I went to college, they were professionals at partying – there were full-time party organizers, beer on tap 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. And 24 hours a day, 365 days a year you would find folks taking advantage of the fact. Not to mention “special occasions”. As far as I know everyone survived.
OK Mikey – here is one. I was at a party where the house had these great big pillars out front – three or four story house. The pillars were probably around 2 – 3 feet in diameter. One Einstein thought it a great dea to try to slide down the pillar from the top. As the pillar was so big you couldn’t get your arms all the way around it, and the guy came down fast – too fast. At the bottom he hit with an almighty thump, and broke his ankle. Do you think this deterred other Einsteins? Nosirreebob – that was the gauntlet he done laid down. Budding Einsteins wee lined up to go down that pillar. Several broken ankles later (I mean BROKEN, not sprained), one lucky Einstein made it down with all bones intact, and the game stopped. The crowd, of course, drank and cheered each attempt. Very funny, and totally wild, but crazy.
Another time we were at some girls college or other (Smith?). We were having a party at one of the dorms. As I was already drunk when I arrived (2 hr trip and I wasn’t driving), I staggered into the party room where the party was based around a big garbage can full of high octane punch. I staggered up to get some punch, tripped, and knocked over the entire can – so the party was over at around 8 pm. Me and my buddies just shrugged, and headed off to the next party – but the throwers of the party were well and truly pissed off at us. Shit happens.
Later that night, at another girls dorm, I was no longer the most drunk – in fact I was one of the less drunk – my companions, especially the driver, had made a concerted effort to catch up to me. We were in the dorm, and the driver had to take a leak, but did not know the way, but as I did I was annointed to help him out and lead him (no way he could find the way himself). duly lead hin to the bathroom, and took him inside, but couldn’t find the light switch. I lead him to the urinal, where he did his business, and we left.
A short whle later, a guy half-naked comes running out of the bathroom screaming and shouting and cussing. Seems I had taken my buddy not into the bathroom, but into one of the girls bedrooms, where the guy was banging the girl when we walked in. And seems I did not lead my buddy to a urinal after all, but rather had him piss into the guy’s open suitcase at the foot of the bed where he had placed it and left it open. Man was he ever pissed. My buddies and I just shrugged and offered him a beer. Shit happens.
For some reason we weren’t ever invited back by those girls. We went anyway, of course. We didn’t need no damn invitation.
Occassionally we would visit a brother fraternity at Amherst or Harvard – they were NEVER happy to see us, but as we were brothers, we had to be welcomed. We were like the evil half-brothers from the wilds of NH, and we would blow in, drink all their booze, destroy their frat, molest their women folk, and beat feet. Boy was that fun. They would come to visit us – once or twice by memory – and we would seriously welcome them with open arms – they thought that they would annoy us and keep us from coming down to see them. No way, Jose. We were absolutely glad to see them – we would force our booze on them, we would help them destroy our frat, we would force our womenfolk on them, and we would make sure they got safe passage back home when it was all over, and promise to come down to see them the following week.
I was at a party once in Recife, Brazil.. A rough port town on the NE corner of the country and at the time (may still be so for all I know) the poorest province in Brazil..
I was doing duty on the American Mariner – a missile tracking ship at the time, tied up in Recife for Christmas/New Years.
We (the technical crew) rented a cat house for New Years.. New Years Eve, New Years day and probably the day after that. It was called “The Three Floors of Whores” or the Casa Sobre Palafitas (House on Stilts) as the first floor was parking garage and the 2nd floor was really the first.
Parties on all three floors and all 6 apartments (converted to bars, dancing areas and (shhh) other secluded rooms).. I was on the 2nd floor, siting on a stool next to an open window (no A/C) when the girl next to me, who was looking out the window, poked me in the side and yelled, “Muck-e, Muck-e, someone just fell out the window!”.. A back flip no less..
A couple of us dashed out the door and down the stairs, anticipating the worst.. We met the idiot who fell out of the window climbing the stairs, clothes in tatters, all scratched up and bleeding and couldn’t remember how he got that way. He’d fallen one story into a thick hedge and almost went in head first. Drunk as a skunk and limber as a limp —- well, you know what..
We threw him in a shower, rinsed off the blood, the girls had a ball painting him up with Mercurochrome from head to toe, got him dressed in forgotten clothes from other men who’d long departed and went back to party some more. I think one girl stayed behind, in fact, I’m sure she did.
I’m a big fan of Brazilian femalehood.. They learn what it’s all about at a young age and thoroughly enjoy it all their lives, making sure everyone of the opposite sex enjoys it too. If I’d had any sense, I’d have stayed there. Ah well.
I sometimes wonder how I ever lived to such a ripe old age.. Pure luck, I’m sure. But it sure has been fun!
I remember one time while at uni – suspect it was around 93 or so. The Engineering Undergraduate Society decided to have a “Golf Day” at the St Lucia golf course. Because around 40 of us turned up, we got a bulk discount to get in. Of course it was a totally alcohol free golf course, except for the bar. Of course we totally respected that and smuggled in far, far too much booze.
My memory of the day is somewhat hazy but I remember someone rocking up with golf carts and jousting using the little flags over the holes. That wasn’t as much fun though as playing Golf Cart Polo with the big woods. One guy though thought golf was for wimps and used a cricket bat instead for Golf Cart Polo.
Somewhere between half way and 3/4 of the way through the Course, we were being chased around the Golf Course by the staff after crashing one golf cart into some bushes and flipping it, drowning another into the lake and leaving skid marks and huge divots through several of the holes, and skid marks from trying to do 360s on the greens.
We promptly retired to the nearest pub. Ended up getting into a fight with a bunch of tradies. Got kicked out. Went to a different pub with those tradies and made up over several jugs.
Woke up the next morning in a park in a totally different part of the city wondering how the hell I could have afforded to have drunk as much as I must have in order to feel as bad as I did as I swore I left home with only $40 on me…..
As far as I’m aware, the EUS – and probably all uni student groups – are still banned from that golf course.
I was quite the little party-animal in my day. I worked my ass off, so when the odd chance came to let off steam, I had a good time at it.
First hub and I hung out with bikers, lots of scavenger hunts and poker runs, lots and lots of “trashcan” parties and waking up in the strangest places (like on top a slide, in a stranger’s cars – I somehow had the keys, once at a Nascar race I woke up ontop the neighbors RV).
Second hub and I were into nudist camps. Most camps are actually swingers’ resorts. We played in the sun but always retired alone to our camper. The Saturday night parties were occasionally epic. Skinny dipping; nude, dancing, two-in-the-morning volleyball games; drunken golf cart polo and scavenger hunts. Way too much fun.
My absolute favorite parties though have been the Buffalo Jams. Multiple bands (some big names), too much alcohol and some people heavily partook of illicit substances. Held in corn fields, they were our own mini-Woodstocks in the middle of a nowhere and a recession. My son was conceived at Old No. 2 which was less than ten miles from my parent’s house. So I might have a soft spot.
Party on. Except my daughter or (soon-to-be-born) granddaughter, those two don’t need to know about this stuff. Ever. hehe.
“IS-These revelations will not win you SSS’s admiration. Fly right, avoid the evil narcotics, and enjoy (legal) alcohol.”
—-AKAnon @ Indentured Servant
“I don’t think many people in the world could be involved in all that and survive, let alone prosper afterwards. Many of my friends and acquaintences from that time are dead or still fighting the monkey on their backs.”
—-Indentured Servant @ AKAnon
Thus, two comments capture explicitly my vehement opposition to illegal drugs. I invite readers to scroll up above to Indentured Servant’s comments on using illegal drugs, which I gave a resounding thumbs-up.
He’s been there, done that. And he’s seen FIRST HAND what it can do to people. While I disagree with I_S’s general, emphasis on general, views on alcohol, he provides some realistic and verifiable assessments on marijuana and hard drugs.
I can’t remember any one best party ever, they all blur together as “my last semester of college”. But I remember the best party I accidentally started. I was hanging out at a buddies house before he got home from work, and he came in and immediately started taking his pants off. As soon as I saw plaid pulled mine down and said “I’ve been waiting for this!” He looked at me and said “No. I’m sick, these are pajamas.” At this point, I’m not going to let dude just upstage me like that, and I said “Don’t care, I’ve been waiting and it still counts.”
So he’s all on about how he’s cool if I hang out and maybe one or two others, but he didn’t want a party tonight. Except another buddy of ours comes in 10 minutes later looks at me, pants still down and says “Oh, hell yeah! I’ve been waiting for this!” And takes his pants off.
And long story shorter than it could be, it became a large party spread by word of mouth and the general response to invitation was “I’ve been waiting for this.” Also, huge cudos to the girl who wasn’t wearing any underwear and the one wearing see through underwear who still took her pants off. That takes a brass set of labia.
” While I disagree with I_S’s general, emphasis on general, views on alcohol, he provides some realistic and verifiable assessments on marijuana and hard drugs.”
I’d like to hear about your views on alcohol SSS. Having done it all and then some….several times, I have never *been* more out of control or *felt* more out of control than when I am shit faced drunk. The only drug that ever came close to making me feel that way was heroin or caballo as we called it. Heroin is some wicked shit but the only thing you are motivated to do while on it is to “go get some more” if the opportunity came up. Other than that, you would practically let a house burn down around you and ask for a bag of marshmallows as everyone else left the building. You would of course get up and leave but you’d be very bummed about having to do so. A bad trip on acid, where you are wondering if you might “stay that way” forever really sucks but you still give a fuck. In my experience, alcohol just makes you not give a fuck AT ALL and I never experienced that with other drug. It can also have the effect of turning you into Superman! Perhaps PCP or Angel dust might have that effect on a person as well but I never did PCP. I believe that these “bath salt” situations may be PCP but I’m not sure.
Americans, yoots in particular, either get shit faced drunk or they don’t drink. There is rarely any middle ground. I think that is because alcohol is strictly verboten so kids go all out with it whenever they get some.