Introducing a new weekly feature on Baby In A Bar, it's....
One Time At A Party....
Yes, folks, each week I will regale you with a hilarious, weird, heart-warming, wild, or just plain sloppy story that occurred - you guessed it - one time at a party! Some names may be changed to protect the guilty. (But you'll probably know who they are anyway.) And, by all means, if you've got a great memory of us one time at a party, email me about it! Some of those party scenes are a bit, ahem, blurry.
Let's start with an oldie, but an oh-so-goodie, shall we? I believe the statute of limitations has run out on this one, so I'm naming names.
It was our Freshman year of college. Katie & Christine went to UM in Ann Arbor, I was at Albion, and Rene was at UM Dearborn. Although we'd only been away from each other for a few weeks, after that Summer of '94, it felt kind of like the umbilical cord had been cut. The girls picked me up, and we headed west to Kalamazoo to hit up a party at Katie's ex's house at Western.
We were 18 years old, and there was beer. In kegs. Unlimited beer in kegs. One time at a party, we were 4 best friends, and we were 18 years old, and there was beer in kegs.
After enjoying a bit of that keg beer, Katie went looking for her ex, James.* Where was James? No one knew. Obviously, she employed me to help her look for him. We ended up outside, and still, he was nowhere to be found.
"I know where he is," says Katie with a wild look in her eye. "He's in his room, hooking up with another girl!"
She sounds almost triumphant about it.
"C'mon!" she yells. She leads me to the garage over which James' bedroom is conveniently located. She hops up on the stairs, then the banister, and she stomachs her way onto the roof of the garage, ready to catch him mid-hook-up.
I am waiting safely on the ground, red Solo cup in hand.
She's completely on the roof now, and she stomps her way over the window. She peers in, ready to...ready to....
"Oh", she says, turning around. "He's not in there. Hmm."
Nope, he wasn't in there. However, Katie is still, in fact, on the roof. She walks to the edge, gets back down on her stomach and shimmies to the end trying to reach the banister with her foot. It doesn't reach.
"It's okay!" I yell. "Don't worry! Just jump! I'm going to catch you! Don't worry!"
I don't even put my red Solo cup down. Possibly, it's time to worry.
I stand on the stairs, reaching out, (beer in hand), waiting for Katie to fall gracefully backwards into my arms. Yes, Gentle Reader, Katie did fall. But not into my arms. She fell on the banister. Then she fell on to the top stair. Then she fell down each stair individually. Then she fell on to the ground.
I look down at her from the top stair where I stand and say, "You missed."
One time at a party, my best friend, Katie, missed.
*Yes, I've changed his name. I don't know why. It seems like the thing to do. I'm calling him James cause he was the first person to introduce me to the band James. I still really like them too.