Late Night Shenanigans

The fire was excessively warm since the person stoking it was excessively drunk. At 3:00 AM, he was in good company. Most of the people sitting around the fire pit had glazed looks on their faces or were talking animatedly about the virtues of not using firearms after taking hallucinogenics.

I enjoy being the sober one at parties for many reasons. One is that it is a great opportunity to voyeur into human behavior unnoticed. I enjoy watching who hits on everyone, who tries to expound eloquently (or not so eloquently) to anyone they can corner, and who waits for the opportunity to shine. Always fun are the girls who brag about how drunk they are, the favored mating call of desperate college girls from coast to coast.

So when I saw the young, clean-cut, seemingly well-mannered husband stick is hand down his even younger wife's shirt and act as if he was hand-washing a sweater, I was caught off-guard. She, on the other hand, was not. She carried on conversation like ALL married couples went around fondling each other's nibbly bits in public. For a full five minutes he sloshed her boobies around while everyone continued being absorbed in their own alcohol-flooded worlds. I was flabbergasted. What in the hell was he trying to prove? And her! Just sitting there like he had done nothing more than give her a kiss on the cheek. What a deranged couple.

I did, for the most part, have a good time. I danced (poorly) to cliche 80's music, saw friendly acquaintances, schooled a few boys in air-hockey, and jumped in the USM fountain for the first time. I feel I am a little too old for such rites of passage, but I can't say I didn't enjoy the frivolity of it all.