Drinking & Parties Stories
Bad decisions, fuzzy memories, and stories that start with “I was drunk…” Party stories rarely end well.
Drinking & Parties
Sometimes I get the itch to paint the room a shade of chartreuse, not the walls, people - I'm thinking the entire party. A lone jazz clarinet floats through the air; I'm not sure who's blowing into it, but I think it's hypnotic.
Drinking & Parties
Somehow I've made it out of my childhood, only to find myself trapped behind a crowded bar in my early twenties, desperately trying to recreate someone else's idea of a rite of passage. My friend Rachel hands me a neon-green beer koozie and I awkwardly place it around an almost-empty Pilsner.
Drinking & Parties
The smell of sweat and stale beer clung to me like a bad tattoo as I stumbled out of the crowded bar, arm in arm with a guy who claimed to be a neurosurgeon but looked suspiciously like a middle-aged hipster named Dave. We had met exactly four minutes prior and were, somehow, in the midst of planning our first joint karaoke performance in Japanese.
Drinking & Parties
Sporadic bursts of laughter punctuated the room's thick silence like fireworks in a thunderstorm. It was probably the third or fourth time I'd spilled my drink, but nobody seemed to care – mostly because they were too preoccupied with trying to get the DJ to play their favourite song.
:)
Drinking & Parties
The fog from my forgotten whiskey hangs over the dance floor like a bad smell. I weave past strangers' shoulders, eyes watering from the smoke and cheap cologne.
Drinking & Parties
Sometimes, when the fog machine in the basement is on and it's my birthday, people tell embarrassing truth or lies about me and I'm expected to toast with a plastic cup of warm punch. Last year, my friend Rachel claimed I once sang the entirety of 'I Will Always Love You' on the subway, which I vaguely remember now that you mention it.