My first college party… sort of

Well, I’ve got a funny story for you guys. So the other night, I was going to go to a party. Yes, I know. A real-life college party, with kegs, loud music, and more people than any fire marshal would allow in a gymnasium, let alone an actual house.
This wasn’t just any party, though. It was a “highlighter party,” which meant that once you got there, you had to draw all over yourself with a highlighter, and then dance under a bunch of blacklights so people could see the highlighter marks all over you. Personally, it sounds like a rave to me. However, I’ve spoken about this issue with myriad individuals, and they stress that I’m dumb and that there’s a difference between a rave and a highlighter party, though I have no idea what that difference would be, and I don’t think that the people who tell me I’m wrong have any idea what they’re talking about. But I digress.
So here’s how my night actually went. I met up with some friends around 10:30 and we made our way from South Campus — which is, as its name would imply, the southernmost point on the UNC campus — to Rosemary Street, which is above North Campus. All in all, about a mile and a half of walking. So my friends and I trekked for a while, and then the thought struck me: who was throwing this party?
So I asked, “Who’s throwing this party?”
My friend Clayton responded, “Oh, I dunno. It’s for a good cause, though.”
My friend was being vague. I pressed him for more information. “What good cause? Global Warming, Darfur, Ron Paul for President, starving Maori Tribesmen in the Rain Forest?”
“Um, one of those. Maybe all of them.”
“Well,” I said, after realizing that I had about the same chance of getting this information out of my friend as Russell Kooistra has of getting a girlfriend, “that’s good enough for me. Let’s keep walking.”
As we got closer and closer to the party, something struck me: everybody else walking to the party was wearing white. Because I have no sense of style, my uniform is generally a pair of jeans, a blue or black T-shirt and my black sweatshirt that I got at Bonnaroo. Clayton shares my non-fashionable sense of fashion, and our associates — who were females — were fashionable, but nonetheless not dressed in white. This presented an issue to our group, because if we weren’t wearing white as per custom of the party, we might not get in.
Clearly, it was time to deliberate. Our little group stopped walking when we were maybe a hundred and fifty yards from the house, and sat on somebody’s fence while we discussed what we should do about the situation. My female friends, clearly unaware that they had two males with them, were all for pressing on, generally on the basis that the party would let them in regardless of their dress, as they were female and females always get into parties.
Clayton and I, however, were in a different boat. See, it is in a party’s best interest to have more females than males at a party. Maybe that’s sexist, but I can’t really change it so I won’t comment on it any more. The point remains that there was a distinct possibility that Clayton and I would be denied entry to this celebration to raise awareness for Global Warming/Darfur/Ron Paul/Maori Tribesmen.
We discussed. The girls almost had the male contingent convinced to carry on, but then the cavalry came. And by cavalry, I mean the cops. We saw a small army of college students running from the house, many of whom were yelling, “The cops just came!”
So we high-tailed it out of the neighborhood and went back to our dorms, all rather fully shaken by the events of the night.
Well boys and girls, what have we learned from this experience?
Well, nothing really, other than wearing the wrong shirt to a party can save you from having — yet another — run-in with the cops.
Current Rap Song That I Can’t Stop Listening To — “Big Pimpin” by Jay-Z. In this song, Mr. Z attempts to concisely characterize his persona within the parameters of a rap song, and comes to the conclusion that he is a lothario, a libertine, or as he puts it, “Me give my heart to a woman? Not for nothin,’ never happenin’; I’ll be forever mackin’.” Of course, Jay-Z ended up getting engaged, so I guess his mackin’ days are over.