Party time...

OK… so here was the plan for yesterday evening:

- Drive to the party venue, and ditch my car in the closest university car park
- Put in appearance at party
- Be sociable (chat to staff, and say nice things to the students I have got to know over the year about their future potential etc.)
- Have no more than two alcoholic drinks, interspersed with water (or other non-alcoholic beverages)
- Establish that Sean-the-cute-undergraduate was with girlfriend (or otherwise uninterested in little old me)
- Drive home (…and sulk)

This seemed like a fairly mature approach to the evening.

Hhhmmmm... This is how it actually happened:

I arrived slightly later than I had intended (standard operating procedure) but at least the party was in full swing. The place had been decorated for the occasion, and the bar was littered with lists of bastardised cocktails, that had been given subject-specific re-names. I started talking to some of the students I knew at the bar. They were sweet and kind; I even got a bottle of wine from one of the girls to thank me for helping her in the lab with her final year project.

Not many of the academic members of staff had come, but I guess that was only to be expected. In the event, only lecturers Phil and John had made the effort. John can't have been there long, but already had a tell-tale, slightly tipsy smile plastered on his face. Phil already appeared to be on his way to oblivion, and then bought another bottle of wine. And then started accepting shots of Aftershock from the students. These two are the party stalwarts of the department, and when it comes to drinking, neither require encouragement.

Sean walked in not long after I got there, and came straight up to talk to me at the bar. I asked him the kind of questions that said "Hey... I was listening the last time we spoke, and I cared enough to pay attention and remember," while at the same time trying to include the poor guy I had been talking to in the conversation.

And my plans for the evening? Who the hell was I kidding?! “Two drinks” turned all to easily into “too many to count.”

Managed to chat to Sean several times. The most promising of these conversations involved weed. He'd just sold some to a friend, so I asked if he had any more. He told me he didn't, but said if I wanted to swing by his place after, he'd sort me out with some.

Anyway, the party was a success, and a good time was had by all. The bar closed at eleven, meaning that the drinking had to continue elsewhere.

I staggered towards the car park about 11.30 knowing a few things had to be taken care of. I had a small bag and a bottle of wine. Had to ditch bottle of wine in car. I have no permit to park at the University. The attendants have a nasty habit of stickering or clamping your car (or both if you've really ticked them off.) Hence I decided to leave them a suitably apologetic note, begging their forgiveness and promising to remove the car as soon as possible. Lastly, I couldn't remember if the car was parked in one space or two. I had been in a hurry, so I suspected the latter. Must move car. For this, I decided to enlist the help of two students. Paul could watch my reversing, and make sure I didn't hit anything, and Sean, well... I asked him to watch for the police. They kind of frown upon people being behind the wheel when drunk. By this point, I suspect I was at least three times over the legal limit.

Lecturer Phil saw the three of us heading into the car park. He was being collected by his long-suffering wife. Sean made some crack about exactly what the three of us were heading into the car park for, and I just thought, "if only..."

I was somewhat surprised to discover that I had after all left in my car neatly in one parking space. I'm guessing the law of averages may have had a little to do with this. Either way, I was just relieved I didn't have to attempt to re-park it while drunk. I dumped the bottle of wine in the passenger foot-well, then wrote a note to the parking attendants:

Dear Mr Parking Person

Third year post-grad parked here last night. Had good intentions, but now too pissed to drive home. Sorry
Will move car by 8.30 am
Please don’t clamp this piece of crap.
Cheers,
JJ

Onto the next bar. This one is a popular undergrad haunt with a winning combination: Loud music, drugs, cheap alcohol and a late licence.

Ambitious, aspiring DJs played drum and bass. The crowd was noisy; perhaps two-thirds drunk, and the rest on pills jumping around in various states of pharmaceutically-induced hyperactivity. More alcohol was consumed, although by about 12.30, I decided water may be a sensible choice. Sean had been off dancing with his mates, but stopped by for a chat, and asked if I was still up for heading round to his place later for a smoke. Duh? Not sure if he realised the extent to which I was hoping there was a polite euphemism in that sentence.

Later, I was looking for one of the girls when I ran into an old course-mate from my undergraduate years. Back then, he would make the occasional semi-flirty comment, but I could never tell if he was remotely interested, or just being kind. I did however, always harbour a strong suspicion that if I were to finish up in bed with anyone from my course, it would be him. Factor into this, if you will, that every time I see him, he looks more and more manly...

I went up to chat to him, and he looked briefly at my face before diverting his attention downwards. "Yes, Jack, I still have legs..." I told him. "That skirt..." His sentence trailed off, and he didn't close his mouth at the end of it. He didn't actually appear to be drooling, but the fascination was clear and undeniable. "That skirt is amazing."

We traded stories of what we had done since we last saw each other. We spoke about other people we knew, who we had seen, what they were doing etc. He asked me if I was shagging the undergraduates. "Of course not," I replied, before adding "at least not yet..." I told him I had my eye on someone. "I'd fuck you in that skirt if I was a first year," he offered. "Or a second year... Oh, Christ! I'd fuck you anyway."

Is it wrong that I took this comment as a compliment??!

Anyway, Jack is moving abroad later this year. It would be nice if he has the decency to call first. He knows where I am.

By the time the DJs played their last tune, I was still rather tipsy, but thankfully feeling a far more steady on my feet. Most of the others were heading across town for a house party. I left with Sean, but got the impression he was going to go to the party later. As we were walking down the road, a couple of his friends caught up with us.

Sean's house. Typical student residence: Dank, reeked of grass, abundance of chipped magnolia paintwork, old furniture, oh... and mouse-traps in the kitchen.

The four of us sat in Sean's room smoking, talking about nothing much at all, and laughing (a lot.) When the others left to go on to the party, I was going to ask Sean if he wanted me to leave. It was only when he closed his door behind them, that I realised that was the last thing on his mind.

:-)