So I have decided on Thursdays that I will post a TBT, (Throwback Thursday), exploring a past adventure. Of course this will not happen every single Thursday because if you check the track record of this blog - You get it. I am about to tell a tale, and thankfully there are no pictures to accompany it. Let's begin.
As usual this is my italicized disclaimer about everyone's name being changed with the exception of my own. Why? I guess I don't really value my future. Also, let's be real what's done is done. #Kanyeshrug
It's the start of the spring semester of my Freshman year. Ironically, this story takes place in January so it was pretty frigid outside. I really lucked out when I got to college and befriended basically everyone on my dorm room floor. In fact, many of us are still friends to this day. It was around the first weekend, and Josh had the bright idea that we should go to a hookah bar in Towson.
Another disclaimer here. I will have to be vague about names of locations in some instances. Why? You know why. #underage #KylieJenner
We decide to pregame in my dorm room, I would drive my car up, and Haley would drive my car back. Haley couldn't drink a lot that night because she had pageant rehearsals the next morning. She used to compete in national pageants, and yes the girl WON. So, if she was coming out at all we would take it. The hookah bar wasn't too far, just up the road, but it was cold enough that the driving plan was necessary. Everyone else drank for a little, and then we all piled into my 2005 Chevy Malibu to set out for, what we didn't know then, would be one of the most epic nights of our college experience.
We get to the hookah bar, and this is where the night takes a turn. We are allowed to bring alcohol in. We brought in whatever bottle, probably some flavored Smirnoff, and settled into our little corner for the night. Now at this hookah bar, (allegedly), when you order a specialty drink flavored hookah, it actually comes in the hookah. So, for example, if a group of underage teens ordered a Sex on the Beach, the water at the bottom of the hookah would be a Sex on the Beach. This is all alleged, but the end of this tale you'll believe what you want. Also, who even knows if that works, if it's actually a real thing, or someone just said it and we went along with it.
Things are going pretty well. We are smoking our hookah, drinking, and dancing on top of the couches having the time of our lives. Naturally when the DJ decides to play "Arab Money" by Busta Rhymes the bar goes into disarray. Why? Because we all are appropriating culture. Duh.
Soon enough, the group across from us notices that we are pretty much the coolest people ever. The group across from us also happened to be a bunch of ripped military men from a base nearby. The group across from us also happened to bring an entire liquor store with them. The group across from us also happened to share this alcohol with us. The group across from us also happened to be sent from heaven.
I'm sure you know what comes next. Picture every movie montage of liquor flying and people dancing. Haley was dancing with one of the military guys and he really liked it. In fact, he liked it so much he decided to put a dollar in her bra. Another military guy decided that Lee was the perfect candidate for a random lap dance. Picture The Rock on top of Kevin Hart.
Next thing we knew, from across the smoke we see some of our friends from our floor. It's Sushi Girl. (Yes, that's what we call her.) I decide to, (stumble), go over and talk to Sushi Girl. After about 5 minutes, some random shots, and a lot of yelling I decide to bid Sushi Girl adieu. On my way back across the bar, I somehow collide with a drunken frat boy lighting a cigarette.
Yeah, you guessed it. He gave me an impromptu eyebrow trim. It was all good. Nothing a shot and a bro hug couldn't fix.
I get back to my crew after what feels like a legit hour. Thankfully, Haley isn't drinking, so she can be the responsible one. Our military men are hammered, we are hammered, and it feels like an honest time to head back to the dorms. Or they were closing. Also, our new best friends decide that serving our country isn't enough. No.
They let us take all the left over alcohol.
By left over, I mean they brought HANDLES of liquor. This was the icing on the cake. Now, don't ask how we got home because quite frankly I don't remember. Yes, because I was drunk of my ass, but also that was SEVEN years ago. I've changed a lot since then.
Now I just an entire bottle of wine and binge Netlix with a carryout pizza. No driving needed.
PS - I'm meeting some of those friends this weekend. Who knows what can happen?